At The Corner Shop we always make the effort to mark a very special day in March. We gather together at our favourite watering hole, Philly’s, over a pint of the black stuff, having the craic and tucking into some Taytos. It’s a day we call Friday.
Fortunately this year St Paddy’s Day falls on that sacred day too.
With its Irish barman, gaelic footy on the telly and the speediest service you’ll get in Central London, it’s a sure fire hit to celebrate the most popular of patron saints. Perhaps it’s no surprise so many of the team are blessed with the gift of the Blarney.
Here’s a few more reasons why we love Philly’s so much:
A central London pub that does table service and sells Taytos - what more can a PR ask for?!
It’s the service isn’t it? Even Pret could learn a lot from Philly’s’ levels of customer satisfaction; there is no uppity ‘Good afternoon, how are you?’ waffle, and certainly no smiling. But do they get you your drink in double quick time? And do they fill it to the brim? Yes they do! You can have a drink in your hand before your computer has even finished force quitting those 19 Gorkana spreadsheets you’d forgotten about.
As an Irish person I am always slightly cynical about 'Irish' pubs in case they stray into being too gimmicky. HOWEVER, it is fair to say that Philomena's upholds the better Irish traits...friendly staff, understated yet inviting atmosphere, good pints on draught and last but not least TAYTO crisps!
When you step inside Philomena’s you forget that you’re in Central London; a real perk of any pub based in the heart of Covent Garden. We might be in a prime tourist location but Philly’s somehow feels personal unto you – and the bar staff are quite literally the most attentive in the history of the earth.
Sport on the telly, rowdy after work crowds, poisonous buckets of White or Red and everything deep fried, what’s not to love? A proper boozer and the best local ever.
But there’s a few amongst our clan whose glasses are a little less shamrock tinted:
Oh dear, I think I'm the only one who doesn't love Philly's (I get a hangover just looking at the warm white wine in there). Although, saying that, Kayleigh and I did take the babies in once in the middle of a thunderstorm and the tipsy old geezers drinking 1pm pints of Guinness were very friendly to them!!
It is well documented that I am not the biggest fan of Philomena’s, or ‘Philly’s’ as it’s colloquially known. Why can’t we just go somewhere else, I whine: maybe the Princess Louise around the corner with the nice ceilings? Or that Sam Smiths pub by the Garrick that I can never remember the name of? Or that one we once went to Fran, remember, the one with the lights off Chancery Lane? Occasionally I’m indulged, but it’s just not the same. There aren’t the same chips with pink mayonnaise (seriously, what is it? Is it piri piri sauce?), you can’t sit on the steps outside with a packet of salt and vinegar crisps, you can’t comment on the acidic white wine with the same shudder. Philly’s is terrible, yes, but it’s ours.
Well, away home with them to their mammies while the rest of us raise a pint.