A Salad of Suits

I don't think I've ever been in a pub with such an odd assortment of people.
It seems Holborn is the place for anybody and nobodies depending on how you like to view things.

Shakespeare's Head is a big Wetherspoon Pub situated near one of the many Crossrail development sites around London, around the corner from the London School of Economics, a hugely popular and highly regarded university. It is in the heart of London's 'Midtown', whatever that might be.
A major thoroughfare cutting a line through central London connecting the North to the South, kind of.
Perhaps the location of the pub is a major factor in determining why it has such an eclectic mix of characters.

There were builders and other types of tradesmen in small clusters around the pub. A majority of which seemed to be into the rapid consumption of pissy mass produced flavourless lagers. On the opposite end of the spectrum were the suits, I imagine most of them are lawyers or solicitors due to the fact that most of them are based around here. Possibly with the occasional banker tossed into the salad of black and white pin stripes. The suits seemed to be drinking mainly dark beers and ales with the odd one here and there with a glass of wine.
Scattered about were smallish clumps of foreigners, mostly young resembling the international student types you see all too much of around London. As most of them are probably studying law or mathematics I'll let them off as that takes a braincell or two. Even worse are the tourists, the ones that constantly block your path and move so slowly that they make standing still stressful. They were drinking what looked like a mix of anything they could possibly get their hands on.
And then there were the odd ones out, couples and other like me, lonely souls with no place to go or company to keep entertained. There is no need for alarm, I'm sure in most of those peoples cases, they have hopefully like me, just come out for a quiet drink and have happened upon a busy pub and have subsequently been sandwiched among all these people.

I was alone with no book to read, no notepad to come up to date with my writing and no reception on my phone so I couldn't even use the internet. My only company were my thoughts and the pint in my hand. All the time and space to think long and hard, drink beer and continue to ponder many of life's mysteries.

I was drinking a New Zealand Pale Ale by a brewery from Hackney. London. Appropriately named Hackney Brewery. Presumably the New Zealand Pale is called that due to the use of 'Kiwi' hops.
It was a light, crisp and zingy pale. Bursting with floral and citrus notes. An easy to drink pint that didn't take long for me to polish off the glass.

Deciding I needed a change and after scouring the bar for something different, something fuller, something dark and bursting with flavour. I fancied upon an Oatmeal Stout from East London Brewing Company. A deep dark brown beer with a fluffy off white head. Simply looking at the mildly viscous liquid in my glass was enough to make the glands in my mouth swell and exude the gooey substance we know as saliva. Liking the consistency to that of old engine oil, not in a bad way, it just so happens that that is what I was reminded of. Smooth, creamy, rich and chocolaty. It was deeply disturbing to see people drinking Guinness. With such an amazing stout on cask, why would anyone even give Guinness a second glance, let alone buy a pint. The guys behind their adverts have obviously done a good job, if were simply down to taste, this certainly wouldn't be the case.

As a pub co, Wetherspoon's are getting it spot on. Doing wonderful things when it comes to introducing small and craft breweries to the masses. A brilliant and commendable job.

shakespeares-head

eastlondonbrewing

hackneybrewery