Place for a Pint

Jeremy, Local Pubs, and Rhonda's first Pimm's on the season

Pubs are integral to British life: a place to grab a pint before heading home, watch a football match with your mates, spend a social evening gossiping with the neighbors, or have some plain or fancy grub. The Dolphin, a few doors down from our flat, attracts 20 to 40-year-old blokes who like to start tossing back drinks early on Saturday morning and get progressively rowdier as they get ready for a 3pm kickoff - singing loudly such tunes as Blue Moon, When the Saints Come Marching In, and You'll Never Walk Alone.  The Mabel, a block away in the other direction, has a mixed clientele of all ages, male and female, and different races. Much more genteel. The neighborhood pub that gets the most points for best "back story" is the Jeremy Bentham, which has a wax likeness of Bentham peering down over the bar. According to a plaque on the building's brick exterior, Bentham, a lawyer, philosopher, and a founder of nearby University College, has his mummified head stored in the college's vault. It's taken out regularly for college Council meetings, which record Bentham as "present, but not voting." How's that for a legacy?