The Royal Oak: Ken Griffiths

Good evening to you all.

It seems only right and proper that the first entry into this diary of chance meetings and grand drinking sessions should be set in The Royal Oak in Borough. I worked behind the bar at The Royal Oak for three years after I decided that as I'd be spending most of my time there anyway I might as well make some money out of it!

With seven real ales on any given time, a blessed lack of televisions, pool tables or music (unless the landlord gets his opera CDs out) and an ornately decorated interior, The Royal Oak is one of the finest pubs in London though fast losing its "best kept secret" title. Owned by the peerless Harvey's of Lewes, it dishes out excellently kept beer, huge portions of mouth watering food and the sort of inane chatter that one expects from a good boozer.

On most afternoons much of this chatter comes from a New Zealander named Ken Griffiths. Ken is a freelance photographer who has seen more of the world than I can mention or remember. Unshaven, with a full head of unkempt hair and a bottle of Côte de Rhone, Ken settles himself down wherever there are people, says his hellos and starts talking.

The first time I met him he told me of his Welsh heritage: how his ancestors had been deported from Merthyr Tydfil to Australia and then from Australia to New Zealand for being too unruly even for Aussies. This led to talk of his photographic travels around Patagonia, a proud Welsh speaking colony perched on the Argentinean coast of which he is inordinately fond.

Talk of South America brought him to one of his favourite stories: Ken, despite having no particular religious feelings, was excommunicated from the Catholic Church for taking photographs of a Brazilian footballer posing with arms outstretched in front of the statue of Jesus in Rio de Janeiro. Interestingly, the footballer was allowed to stay on as a Catholic.

Ken's current project is photographing soldiers who have lost limbs fighting in Iraq and Afghanistan: "People just seem to want to sweep them under the carpet and forget about them but they're some of the most incredible and mentally positive people I've ever met." One young woman medic, a mere 22 years of age, stayed out in the field administering first aid for over 24 hours with her back lacerated with shrapnel. "She was the only medic in that part of the line and she knew that she was needed. It boggles the mind."

The Royal Oak is found at 44 Tabard Street.

Introduction

Good Day to you all,

How are you? Jolly good.

My name is Charlie and I am a true lover of the conviviality of a British pub. The pub holds a unique place in the British psyche as it is one of the great sanctuaries of conversation and chatter. In the street, on the train, at work, striking up a conversation, even with a close friend, often feels awkward, difficult, restricted.

Yet at the pub, settled down with a pint in your hand and a friend at your side, you can feel all unease fade away. There is an informality to a pub that appeals to us all: the scrum at the bar, people perching on each other's tables or vague groups just standing around.

This informality and sense of ease is no doubt down largely to the alcohol, that famous social lubricant that the British have been renowned for enjoying since Julius Caesar wrote back to Rome, stunned at our propensity for the fermentation of grape and grain. But alcohol is available elsewhere, in shops, in clubs and trendy vodka bars. Yet none of these places offers the same safety we feel when settled down for a nice drink.

I have met people at nightclubs, gigs and raves but the volume of music, the frenetic pace of the evening and the sheer inebriation of most of the people there has meant that it has never felt like anything more than a bump in the dark. Talking to a stranger in a pub yields far more interesting stories and reinvigorates your perception of the world as a place full of fascinating people.

As someone who has worked behind a bar throughout the four years of my student life, I have had the pleasure of talking to some truly remarkable people with remarkable tales. This blog will be a weekly reflection of some of the most interesting people I have met in pubs and hopes to inspire those who read it to chat to the person next to you while you’re waiting to be served or to wander alone into a pub and see where it takes you. It will also feature reviews of said pubs where I met these peculiar characters. I hope you enjoy.

All the best,

Charlie