The Red Lion & Sun Highgate

Let’s talk about the Red Lion & Sun in Highgate. You know, that pub that looks like it jumped straight out of a fairy tale—if the fairy tale involved excellent ale and a roaring fire. It’s a proper old-school boozer, the kind that makes you want to order a pint and never leave.

First thing you notice: the location. It’s tucked away on North Road, just a stumble from Highgate Village. And I mean stumble—the street is a bit of a maze, but that’s part of the charm, right?

The building itself? Gloriously ancient. Parts of it date back to the 16th century. Sixteen hundred something. That’s older than most countries. You half expect to see Shakespeare walk in, order a round, and complain about the price of quills.

The Vibe: Cozy Chaos

Step inside, and the first thing you’ll feel is the warmth. No, not just from the fire—though that’s a huge bonus. It’s the vibe. Low ceilings, wooden beams, and walls covered in weirdly wonderful old photos and trinkets.

There’s a piano in the corner. Not just any piano—a slightly out-of-tune piano that someone will inevitably play at 10 p.m. Badly. But somehow, that makes it better. It’s not a fancy gastropub where you whisper about your stock portfolio. It’s a place where you laugh too loud and spill a little beer.

What to Drink? (Or: The Important Bit)

The beer list is genuinely excellent. They rotate ales like a pro DJ rotates records. Expect things like Harvey’s, Timothy Taylor’s, or something local and hoppy. But here’s the secret: try the cider. Seriously. They have a Blackthorn or a local vintage that’ll make you forget your own name—in a good way.

Wine? It exists. But you’re in a proper pub. You know what to do. Get a pint. Or a half if you’re being sensible (don’t be).

The Food: Hearty, Not Fancy

Let’s be honest: you’re not coming here for Michelin stars. You’re coming for comfort. Think scotch eggs, pork pies, and a Sunday roast that could cure a broken heart. The menu is short but tasty—like a good friend who doesn’t talk too much but always has your back.

But the real star? The cheese board. It’s a slab of joy with pickles and chutney that’ll make your taste buds do a little dance. Pair it with a stout, and you’ve got a Tuesday night that feels like a holiday.

The People: Strangers Become Mates

The Red Lion & Sun has a regulars’ crowd, but don’t let that scare you. They’re the friendliest bunch of strangers you’ll ever meet. The bartenders know everyone’s name—or they pretend to, which is just as good. You’ll overhear someone arguing about cricket, a couple on a first date trying to impress each other with their knowledge of ales, and a dog sleeping under a table. Yes, dogs are welcome. Good dogs only.

One tip: if you sit near the fireplace, be prepared to talk. Someone will comment on the weather or your book or your slightly damp coat. It’s that kind of place. You’ll leave with a new friend and a half-drunk story.

The History: Ghosts and Graffiti

Rumor has it the pub has a ghost. A friendly one, I hope—not the kind that rearranges your pint when you’re not looking. The building used to be a coaching inn, and you can feel the history. The floor slopes like a funhouse, and the doorframes are so low you’ll crack your head if you don’t duck. Seriously, watch your head. I speak from experience.

There’s also graffiti on the walls—but the good kind. Carved initials and dates from the 1800s. It’s like the world’s oldest, most accidental guestbook. Makes you wonder who was here before you. Probably someone with a better hat.

Why You Should Go (Like, Now)

Look, London has thousands of pubs. But the Red Lion & Sun is special. It’s not trying to be cool. It just is cool, in that effortless, “I’ve been here since the Tudors” way. It’s the pub you take your out-of-town friends to, the one you go to after a bad day, the one where you celebrate a good one.

So do yourself a favor. Go on a rainy Tuesday when the fire is crackling and the streetlights are glowing. Order a pint of something dark. Sit by the window. Watch the world go by. You’ll feel like you’ve stepped into a painting—one where the beer is cold and the laughter is loud.

And if you see a ghost? Buy it a drink. It’s been waiting a while.