Pub #22: The Holly Bush, Hampstead

The Holly Bush was a destination point for me and frequent pub-buddy Cian.  We walked from St John’s Woods to Hampstead, which was a nice little walk in itself, but the walk up to Holly Mount where The Holly Bush was located was ace.  The way up the walkway, up small stairs, with a nice view of Hampstead, kind of reminded me of some walkways I went through in Japan when I was growing up.

Anyway, we went into The Holly Bush on Cian’s recommendation because of the possibility they may still be serving hot apple juice.  Alas, it being April, they had stopped serving it, although considering how chilly our May has been, perhaps they should have held out a bit more.  I got a pint of Seafarers Ale at £3.00, which is one of the better choices Fuller’s makes, along with Discovery Ale, which The Holly Bush also had.

Funny enough, I’m a bit tired of London Pride, although my glass from The Holly Bush bore the logo of that particular Fuller’s Ale.

It was afternoon, leading into early evening.  We asked about food, but were informed that they wouldn’t start serving food until either 4 o’clock or perhaps it was 5 pm.  I can’t remember, but after looking at the menu, Cian and I weren’t really sold on the menu for whatever reason, despite the generally high marks The Holly Bush has gotten on Yelp.  We may not have been in the mood for gastropub food, as we wound up in a dim sum place later in the evening.

We were, however, in the mood for speculating the relationship between two women that sat near us at the pub.  At first, they appeared to be a mother-daughter set, or perhaps an aunt-niece pairing.  But the body language that day seemed to suggest otherwise.

“I think they’re lovers!”  I related to Cian outside of the pub as we walked for food.

He protested.  “Nah, can’t be!  One of them is way older than the other!”

“Love don’t care!”

Either way, The Holly Bush was a sweet place to take a lover to for drinks, or one’s family to, as the other group we had seen near us were.  The interior was nice, and I’m kind of irked with myself for not taking more photos other than the one of my beer.  The table we sat at was a good, hard wooden one with clawed (or at least pawed) feet.  There seemed to be many little rooms to tuck away in, and the place was busy, but not yet crowded.

If I am still here in the winter (although it may look like I won’t be, thanks to my status as a non-EUie), I’d love to try their hot apple juice.

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