The Boadicea Pub

A tiny pub tucked into the corner of Charing Cross station. The Boadicea is quiet with no music playing yet full of men in casual attire at the end of a working day. All have beards or stubble and all look so perfectly at ease in this little pub that they must all be local in origin with not a traveller in sight. The occupants do make me uneasy however. I watch a gentleman waiting at the bar, turn to a stranger at a table nearby and say “I swear one of her hands is in there, have a whiff” opening up the carrier bag at his side to the table. The bar staff speak with a foreign tongue in what feels very much like a chain bar setup, although they seem shocked to be receiving orders. The train whistles come through the door every few minutes but this is the only clue you are in a train station, only the lack of toilets, the expensive drinks and the feeling that you are slowly dying, gives you other clues that this most inaccessible building would be far better off on a busy high street.

Overall the bad smell of the place drove us to leave with the flashes of fruit machines hot on our tail. I haven’t experienced a worse pub in a train station as yet - 2/10