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London’s toughest landladies

Wit, wisdom and womanly power: we sit down with London’s finest pint pourers

Ali Ross at The Coach and Horses
Photograph: Jess Hand for Time Out
Photograph: Jess Hand for Time Out
Leonie Cooper
Written by
Leonie Cooper
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The pub landlady endures as one of London’s most iconic professions. From the alewives of the Middle Ages – when brewing was one of rare trades dominated by women – to WWII’s eccentric Mog Murphy, who kept her Wapping boozer open 24 hours a day for service personnel looking for news of their loved ones, landladies have held the city together for centuries. 

Regularly popping up in books and on telly, with Abbey Potterson of the Six Jolly Fellowship Porters (thought to be based on Limehouse’s very-much-still-going The Grapes) in Charles Dickens’s ‘Our Mutual Friend’ and The Queen Vic’s formidable Peggy Mitchell of EastEnders two of the most notorious, the real deal are ever tougher. It’s a strenuous job, dealing with long hours, pissed-up customers, and the unmistakable honk of slop trays. It needs a sturdy, strong character to take it all on, and provide a cosy, welcoming place for the community to come together over a few pints. 

When we meet coverstar Lesley Lewis at her famous Soho pub The French House, our post-lunch chat is warmly interrupted by a fawning fellow publican. Oisin Rogers is the former manager of Mayfair’s Guinea Grill, and he’s just opened The Devonshire, a brand new boozer on Denman Street. His hero? Lesley, of course. ‘I look up to Lesley – she is the goddess of perfection,’ he says with a grin. ‘Nothing goes on in here without Lesley knowing about it, and that’s the sign of a good landlord. You want the secret of running a pub properly? Be there.’ 

And that’s what Lesley has done since 1989, living above the much-loved Dean Street mainstay, and becoming one of Soho’s most respected faces in the process – and only the fourth landlord of the pub, following long-running stints from the legendary, fabulously moustachioed Gaston Berlemont, and his father Victor. ‘I was running a pub in Clerkenwell before here, but I was just desperate to get back to Soho – Clerkenwell might only be down the road but it might as well be 100 miles away!’ she says. She’s now been in charge of the French House for three decades plus change, ushering in the likes of Fergus and Margo Henderson in 1992, who went to start two of London’s most renowned restaurants, St John and Rochelle Canteen

Like a lot of the landladies we spoke to, she ended up doing the job entirely by accident, after time spent dabbling with cabaret and snake dancing. ‘I was an out-of-work actress, and got a job in a restaurant called Peppermint Park on Upper St Martins lane many years ago,’ she explains. ‘I loved it so much and ended up being the general manager. When the company was sold they said ‘would you like a pub or redundancy?’ So I took the pub.’ 

Let us introduce you to London’s leading landladies.

Ali Ross at The Coach and Horses
Photograph: Jess Hand for Time Out

Ali Ross

The Coach and Horses, Soho

In residence since: 2019

One of three Coach and Horses in Soho – but undoubtedly the best – this Greek Street corner pub has long been popular with those working in the media. Keith Waterhouse set his play ‘Jeffrey Bernard is Unwell’ in the pub, about the Spectator journalist who spends many hours in the pub. The pub was known as Norman’s Coach and Horses, in tribute to longtime landlord Norman Balon, who ran the pub for 60 years and was often called ‘London’s rudest landlord’. 

We often get people coming in and saying ‘I met my wife here 30 years ago’.  We still get a lot, like, a lot, of dates – and we can always spot them.’ 

When I worked at The Flask in Highgate Village a lady bought in her two pet ferrets on leads. We haven’t had ferrets here yet, but we did have a whole pack of leather horses during Pride, wearing full black leather masks and tails. I think they were drinking snakebite.’ 

We have a zero tolerance policy on racism and homophobia. We’ve come a long way from ‘the customer is always right’ and need to make sure that our space is safe, our team is safe and that people in the pub don’t have to put up with obnoxious egos.’

We have the best tuck shop in Soho – because we have no kitchen we decided to scour the land for all the best old school crisps and snacks, like Quavers and Monster Munch. We also sell a lot of Guinness, and a lot of Irish people come by, so we sell Taytos too. We’ve also got pickles in a bag at the moment – we had to order more in, the people are ready for them.’

Norman is still around. He’s 96, and he sometimes comes in on Tuesdays, just before we open, and plays cards with an old Italian guy. He was quite notorious in his day, but he’s an absolute sweetheart and very supportive – but he doesn’t take any crap!’ 

The pub has got the now iconic ‘rock horse’ t-shirts. It was a collaboration between two of our staff members who designed it and then screen printed it in-house. Some of the girls here are pretty creative and we used the space upstairs to do a couple of runs. The chap who does all the illustrations for Quo Vadis, John Broadley, is also going to be designing a shirt for us soon. 

Lesley Lewis at The French House
Photograph: Jess Hand for Time Out

Lesley Lewis

The French House, Soho

In residence since: 1989

One of Soho’s most popular public houses. Originally known as The York Minster, it changed name in the mid-1980s after being colloquially known as ‘The French’ for decades thanks to its Belgian owners. A magnet for literary and art world types; Sylvia Plath, Lucian Freud, and Dylan Thomas were all regulars, the latter once leaving the pub and forgetting to take the original manuscript for ‘Under Milk Wood’ with him. 

The best way to tackle trouble is gently. Usually I’ll say ‘it’s time to go home, why don’t you come back and see us tomorrow?’ Gaston, the old landlord, taught me that.’ 

The first time I came to Soho was to run a strip club in Old Compton Street. I made the costumes and choreographed the girls. I was an actress too, but mostly did fringe stuff. I became a snake dancer to try and get my Equity card. I had two snakes – one was called John – and I was painted gold. We worked with the Shock Theatre Company; there was Barbie Wild, she now does horror movies, a duo called Tik and Tok, and a muscle man called Steve. We toured around and did cabaret at places like Heaven.’ 

Soho’s changed enormously. Things have to evolve. You’re not going to bump into Jeffrey Bernard or Francis Bacon – they’ve all gone now, there’s only Frank Auerbach left – but you might bump into the odd rock star or movie star.’ 

When I started here in 1989, the top floors were condemned and we had to rebuild it during the night. But Jon Spiteri and I had worked at Peppermint Park, and he said he had some new chefs and could they take over the restaurant upstairs. That’s how Fergus and Margot Henderson ended up cooking here. Then we had Russell Norman from Polpetto, and then the lovely Neil Borthwick came along and he’s been here five years.’ 

We’ve had some very strange lost property, including rubber outfits and a whole fish.’

Pauline Forster at The George Tavern
Jess Hand

Pauline Forster

The George Tavern, Stepney

In residence since: 2002

One of London’s most historic pubs, The George Tavern dates back to 1623. It was rebuilt in the 1820s and is now a popular live music venue and film location and boasts original, Grade II listed interiors. In the late 2000s, a celebrity-endorsed campaign helped save the pub from property developers, though the venue remains at risk. So far, Pauline has objected to more than 300 planning applications and is currently fighting to restore and protect the historic function room. 

I lived in Gloucestershire in a farmhouse. After bringing up five sons I was coming up to London more to do art installations and decided to move up here. I went around the East End on a bicycle looking for somewhere non-domestic to live. The warehouses were all too pricey, but I saw this closed down pub and thought ‘that looks beautiful’. 

The pub was being marketed as a site for demolition for flats. I had absolutely no intention of doing that.’

After I won one judicial review, I got a planning application for a building opposite the beer garden. I went to see both mayors to say ‘do not sell the site for residential use’ because I’d have to fight noise complaints – we’re a live music venue and we can’t lose our licence.’ But they did. I was really pissed off because they knew about all my battles. But we got a deed of easement and it was a landmark case; within the deeds of the flats that have been built, nobody can complain about the noise from the George forever.’ 

I’ve had a life that I never thought I’d have. I was 53 when I came here, and I’m 74 on Saturday.’

The open door of a public house is really important in our community. For people with mental health issues, or who are lonely, it’s a place where you can go and sit there all night – you don’t get chucked out because you haven’t bought food – it’s not a restaurant. Which is great, but it also means you never know who’s going to walk in.’ 

My motto is ‘everyone’s welcome, except wrong’uns’. You can’t tolerate people who are going to cause trouble.’

Lana Bewry at The Golden Anchor
Photograph: Jess Hand for Time Out

Lana Bewry

The Golden Anchor, Nunhead

In residence since: 1998

The Golden Anchor is a spacious south London pub which has been popular with the local Caribbean community for decades. In 2020 it featured on BBC’s ‘Saving Britain’s Pubs’ with Tom Kerridge, where the celebrity chef offered advice on how to keep the business alive as well as finding time to play dominoes with the regulars. 

To be a landlady you’ve got to be able to empathise and you absolutely must have respect for people, even when they appear to not be respecting themselves. You’ve got to have a thick skin, you’ve got to front anything and do anything; whether that’s cleaning the toilets, cleaning up vomit, or putting out a drunk because I’m not going to stand back and let other people do it, or park a fight if it happens.’ 

St Patrick’s Day is always a big day – the Guinness flows. It’s such a warm, happy day – and it starts early and it just goes on.’  

I’ve always loved this pub. I used to be in banking and I worked here as my Sunday job – I grew up just walking distance down the road. When I first came here to work they had striptease. Years later, in 1998, I took over as landlady. When I started it was mainly Caribbean customers, but a lot of them have now passed away or went back home to Jamaica. Now it’s a harmonious mix of everybody in the local community.’  

We just had what we call in the Caribbean a Nine Night. Nine nights after someone dies they have a celebration of the life of that person. It was for one of our regulars, an electrician who met his wife here. There was food and music and a ginormous turnout – that was a really incredible night.’ 

I didn’t realise how much of an Irish community we had in Nunhead. There’s other connections as well; my dad is from a place called Bally Mony in Jamaica, which is very close to Ballymoney in Ireland, and my surname has an Irish connection as well.’ 

Jonny Woo and John Sizzle at The Glory
Photograph: Jess Hand for Time Out

Jonny Woo and John Sizzle

The Glory, Hackney

In residence since: 2014

A queer pub and performance space, The Glory was opened in 2014 by drag queens Jonny Woo and John Sizzle alongside Colin Rothbart. Formerly a pub called The Victory, it’s been home to such fabulous events as drag king contest Man Up!, queer Jewish night Buttmitzvah, and Lipsync 1000.

Jonny Woo

I moved to East London in ‘95 – it was a real mix of people. A lot of St Martins people and young designers. I worked behind the bar in the Bricklayers Arms, but only for about three or four months. We were doing a lot of drugs and it was very difficult to hold down any kind of job. ’

At The Glory we’re inspired by the crazy parties they used to throw at the Bricklayers – they put turf down in the pub, and we’ve done that twice here and had a weekend festival. We should do that again actually…

Some strange, very scandalous things have happened downstairs. Someone was demonstrating pegging and used a watermelon. A pretty risque show.’

The Glory house rules are just ‘be a decent human being’. Not indecent, we don’t mind that. But if you are not decent to an extent where it interferes with another person’s night, you’re at a very high risk of being asked to leave.’

Chelsea Clinton was probably the most random person we’ve had here. It was New Year’s Eve and she came down with Keira Knightley. But we’ve had all the local gay celebs; Olly Alexander from Years and Years, Christine and the Queens and Russell Tovey.’

John Sizzle 

I’d only ever worked in a pub once before this, when I gave up my job in advertising to become a drag queen. That was the Edward IV in Islington, which was a lovely gay bar.’

We sell a lot of White Claw – it’s huge. This mysterious alcohol came from nowhere, but it keeps you thin and gets you pissed. I’m a lager lout, but the biggest seller is always vodka diet cokes – the classic – and a queer bar loves a cocktail; a margarita is a go-to and we also love the occasional penis-shaped vodka luge.’

The place was a shithole when we first saw it – there were pianos everywhere, which we turned into the bar. But we could see the stage and got excited by it and knew it would be all about performance – the space informed how it could be used.’

Our crowd is people who have moved to London, who probably are a bit weird and alternative, who have come to discover their gender and sexuality. They come here quite naive and leave as fully fledged queer-dos. A lot of them use drag as a vessel for performance and end up with shows at the Soho Theatre, and that makes me really proud.’ 

Megha Khanna at The Gladstone
Photograph: Jess Hand for Time Out

Megha Khanna

The Gladstone, Borough

In residence since: 2017

A Victorian pub rebuilt in the 1920s, this backstreet Southwark pub was close to the offices of Mike Stock, Matt Aitken and Pete Waterman, and became the 1980s pop hitmakers’ de facto centre of operations. In 2015 a planning application to turn the site into a 10-storey apartment block was rejected and it is now one of central London’s only desi pubs, as well as a popular local live music venue. 

I didn’t know what the term landlady meant before I started the job. I wasn’t meant to be full-time, I was just going to help out with the marketing side of things, because that’s my work background, but then my brother said he could do with a little more help, so I stuck around and he taught me how to pour my first pint.’

Our regulars are more than just regulars. I cat sit for them when they go on holiday. Sometimes I feel like a therapist. People sit at the bar, and talk to you about their day-to-day struggles, or if they had a row with their missus.’ 

The pub has become my life. It’s very much a big community.’

There are a few desi pubs in London, but we’re one of the very few in the centre. A desi pub is a pub with an Indian influence in some way and I recently found out that I might be the only female Indian landlady in the UK.’

We do an Anglo-Indian Sunday roast. It’s an Indian twist on the British classic, there’s a butter chicken, or the railway lamb chop, all marinated in Indian spices. We serve it with Bombay potatoes, Yorkshire pudding, and masala broccoli. It’s super popular.’

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