The Best Places to Drink and Do in the United Kingdom

A wall of antique Japanese brewing vessels sets the mood before you've ordered anything. This subterranean cocktail bar sits beneath Roka on Charlotte Street, and shochu is the point, whether you want it straight, infused with cherry blossom or green tea, or folded into something the bartender's thought harder about than you have. The crowd skews fashionable, which makes sense given the Zuma connection upstairs.

Floor-to-ceiling windows on the third floor of the Royal Festival Hall frame the Millennium Bridge, the Gherkin, and a wide sweep of the north bank. The bar sits on a raised island in the middle of a vast room hung with five bronze chandeliers, each ringed with fins. It's a cocktail bar that happens to come with one of the more theatrical views in the city, and the room itself is doing a lot of the work.

Named for the Howlin' Wolf track, this two-floor bar and micro-club in Leeds wears its blues obsession on its sleeve. An unpromising staircase leads to a first-floor lounge with banquette seating, and later in the week the attic opens up, revealing a beamed ceiling, a second bar, and a dance floor where DJs keep things moving. Orleans funk, Harlem jazz, and Chicago blues set the tone, so dress accordingly and don't arrive expecting quiet conversation.

The white weatherboarded building juts so far into Spaniards Road that traffic through Hampstead Heath has been yielding to it for centuries, and both the pub and the old toll keeper's cottage opposite are listed, so that's not changing. This is a classic English pub on the edge of the Heath, the kind where a long walk through the trees earns a pint at a very old bar. Dick Turpin drank here, allegedly, which every old London pub says but fewer can almost prove.

A corner pub just off Lillie Road, The Atlas has been a Fulham fixture long enough to outlast the Earls Court exhibition halls it once neighbored, which is a longer run than most. The neighborhood is mid-redevelopment and slightly adrift, but the pub itself feels settled, the kind of gastro pub that draws a regular crowd who know exactly what they came for and don't need a reason to check the menu twice.

The centerpiece is an island bar with a tiled mosaic that anchors a huge open room somewhere between American diner and grungy music venue. It's a cocktail bar leaning hard into bourbon, with a short list of well-made classics and one of the more serious American whiskey collections in the neighborhood. Come early enough and you can actually perch at the bar before the live music takes over and the volume becomes non-negotiable.

A backstreet pub tucked where Battersea quietly becomes Clapham Old Town, with big windows facing a residential side street and no particular ambition to be discovered. The team behind it runs a small group of pubs across the capital, all saved from obscurity and gently smartened up without losing the plot. Good food, decent service, and a wide bar area that still feels like a local rather than a concept.

A corner pub on Northcote Road with bare wooden tables and plank walls that give it more country-inn energy than Battersea terrace. The glass-roofed dining room out back has an open fireplace for winter and air-conditioning for summer, which covers the meteorological bases as well as any London pub can. Pavement tables with heaters and an awning stretch the outdoor season considerably. Part of the Three Cheers group.

The red lights behind the bar are a relic from when this corner pub had a rather different clientele. These days it draws theatre-goers heading upstairs to the Canal Cafe and Maida Vale professionals who've discovered that oak panelling and an open fire beat a wine bar. It sits a step from the Regent's Canal in Little Venice, mismatched chairs, ornate cornices, and all the cosy warmth of a pub that knows exactly what it is.

A big, bright gastropub sitting on the south side of Hammersmith Bridge, with painted panelled walls, mismatched chairs, and the occasional coach bench to make the scale feel cosy. Ales on draught, a wine list that outruns the average local, and a Sunday roast that handles its business without fuss. When the weather behaves, French doors open onto a raised sun-deck and walled garden, which closes at nine, so plan accordingly.

A fireplace, Dalí prints on the panelled walls, and the kind of worn-in sofas that make you stay for a third pint. Tucked into the Georgian residential streets between Fulham Road and King's Road, this Chelsea pub has held onto its neighbourhood-local feel while the rest of the postcode drifted upmarket. The clientele dresses well and knows the barman's name, which is exactly the Chelsea equilibrium.

Stuffed birds, stacked crockery, and several lifetimes of collected oddities cover every wall and ceiling of this old Morningside pub, making it feel less like a bar and more like a Victorian curiosity shop that somehow got a liquor license. The shelves behind the larger bar hold what may be Edinburgh's deepest whisky selection, and Caledonian and Belhaven come on draught for anyone who finds the malt list overwhelming, which is fair.

Oysters at the bar keep this Notting Hill pub from feeling like anything it isn't. The room is genuinely small, with mustard walls, red lino underfoot, and rippled glass that softens the light just enough. The food is better than it has any right to be for a place this unpretentious, and the crowd tends to dress up slightly without meaning to. An old-school neighbourhood pub that never needed to announce itself as one.

The Guinness record for Britain's smallest bar hangs over a room barely bigger than a generous wardrobe, tucked immediately to your right as you walk in. This old Fuller's pub has been on the Thames at Hammersmith forever, and the back terrace looks straight over the river, which makes it the unofficial headquarters for Boat Race day. Finding it requires following the north bank, crossing a small park, and taking a narrow alley that seems designed to test commitment.

Corner site, large windows, maroon banquette seating, and not a whiff of charm in the surrounding streetscape. The Easton is a straightforwardly unfussy Clerkenwell pub that puts its energy into the plate rather than the room: Sunday roasts, scotch eggs, ham hock croquettes, and the kind of hearty gastro-pub cooking that makes the unattractive setting feel entirely beside the point.

Tucked between the Electric Cinema and Brasserie on Portobello Road, this members' bar is the Notting Hill outpost of the Soho House group. A staircase coiled around a lift shaft delivers you into a long, loft-style room with pitched ceiling and roof lights, the look landing firmly in the seventies: whitewashed walls, chunky pale teak, industrial pendant lights. The kind of bar where everyone seems to know someone across the room.

Fresh-cut flowers on the tables and colourful walls set the tone at this glammed-up Primrose Hill gastropub, a short walk from Camden Lock along the canal. Light and airy, it pulls in the kind of locals who own small dogs and treat them as plus-ones. Gwyneth Paltrow is reportedly a regular, which tells you roughly everything about the postcode.

Named for a French racehorse, this gastro pub near King's Cross and St Pancras runs on Anglo-French logic, with bistro food, a decent fromage selection, and an upstairs cocktail lounge that quietly upgrades the whole operation. The embossed tin ceiling and mismatched chairs keep things grounded on the ground floor, but head up and the mood shifts. Eurostars waiting for their trains have clearly discovered it, which tells you something about the vibe.

The Victorian corner pub on Latchmere Road reads like a straightforward Battersea local until you notice the food. It's a gastropub, part of a small group run by the brothers behind The Atlas in Fulham, and the kitchen leans Mediterranean in a way that outlasts the trend. Regulars who could recite the menu from memory still come back, which tells you something about the room as much as the cooking.

The revolving oak door that greets you once belonged to a hotel, and it still carries itself accordingly. Inside, the old mock-Tudor pub has been opened up into a roomy gastropub with Chesterfield armchairs up front and a dining room that knows its place behind. The wine list leans into Sussex sparkling, with Ridgeview among them and over twenty pours by the glass, plus a compact cocktail menu for anyone not in a wine mood.

A proper pub tucked into a Bermondsey backstreet, The Grange has had its original brickwork and floorboards stripped back and cleaned up, which is a nicer way to gentrify than most. The ales are kept well, the Bloody Marys arrive with real heat, and once the weather turns, the garden and wood-fired pizza oven become the main event. A neighborhood local that hasn't forgotten what a neighborhood local is supposed to be.

The rear terrace looks straight across the Thames to the O2, which is either atmospheric or a conversation starter depending on your mood. The Gun is a Grade II-listed gastropub on the Isle of Dogs, old enough to feel genuinely weathered, tucked into a stretch of Canary Wharf's edge that still manages to feel like it belongs to a quieter London. The kind of place people make a small effort to reach, then stay longer than planned.

A curtain just inside the door does a surprising amount of heavy lifting, shifting the mood from Stoke Newington high street to somewhere vaguely central European. This Hackney ale and cider house packs its tables with people in their late twenties and thirties who take the draught list seriously, and they have reason to: real ales, craft beers, stouts, lagers, and ciders stretch across a bar that nearly spans the room.

Hanging baskets and a plant-lined terrace make this Notting Hill pub look like it was lifted from a country village and dropped, somewhat incongruously, opposite a police station. Inside, cream panelling and dark green carpet keep the cottage illusion going. Tables fill every corner, shared willingly among regulars who clearly consider the place their living room. A proper neighbourhood pub tucked down a quiet back street away from Portobello's weekend chaos.

A bar on a quiet Notting Hill street that somehow pulls off elegant without trying too hard, The Lonsdale has a long, sweeping counter running the full length of a ground-floor room that leans retro without committing to a theme. It draws a weekend crowd that fills up fast, so arriving early secures a table at the back. The late license keeps things going well past the point when sensible people head home.

The corridor just inside the front door is lined with framed glowing reviews, which is either very confident or very self-aware, and at The Lord Clifden it's probably both. This Jewellery Quarter pub has Banksy prints, exposed brick, beautiful wood panelling, and an enormous beer garden out back. The bar straddles two rooms and the whole thing has the unhurried feel of a proper British boozer. Ale, scampi fries, pub grub.

Marble surfaces, dark wood, and low leather seating fill this basement cocktail bar beneath the Grosvenor Square Marriott, where a 1920s soundtrack sets the mood and a speakeasy entrance, complete with spy hole, keeps things theatrical. You reach it via a side door on Duke Street, knock, and wait to be appraised. The door from the hotel lobby is less cinematic but works just as well. Either way, the cocktails are the point.

A Victorian banking hall on Threadneedle Street, all soaring ceilings and white linen that still feels vaguely capable of financing a railway. The cocktail list and crisp service quickly establish this as a serious cocktail bar, not just a power-lunch backdrop. City workers fill it noisily through the day, then the room empties fast when the commuter trains call. Come early evening for elbow room that, an hour later, would be genuinely hard to believe.

The old Packman table in the corner sets the tone for this deliberately scruffy pub near London Bridge. Garishly painted booths, mismatched furniture, and a live music stage draw trainee medics from Guy's Hospital and anyone else who'd rather not be somewhere with a dress code. Gourmet hotdogs made with Bermondsey sausages are the kitchen's one serious move. A proper boozer wearing its rough edges without apology.

Stripped pine, distressed plaster walls, and sturdy oak tables give this Belgravia gastro pub the feel of a French farmhouse that somehow ended up on one of London's most expensive postcodes. The ground floor bar draws a neighbourhood crowd who look like they own the neighbourhood, and the Sunday roast pulls people upstairs into the dining rooms. A small hotel sits above it all, in case you'd rather not leave.

Tucked in the basement beneath a Mexican restaurant on Brewer Street, this compact cocktail bar organizes its drinks menu around tequila and rum, divided into Batidas, Margaritas, Daiquiris, and the catchall "Gringos." Dick Bradsell, who invented the Bramble and the Vodka Espresso, has been known to hold court here, which is the kind of detail that makes a basement bar feel like a discovery rather than an oversight.

The curved corner frontage wraps around Great Dover and Trinity Streets like the prow of a ship, and inside the Roebuck earns its old back-street boozer status without apology. Mismatched wooden tables ring an island bar, with a slightly loungy back room for when you need to feel less like you're in a pub but still want to be in a pub. Cask ales on handpump, Meantime on keg, and Cotswold cider cover the bases.

The worn linoleum and unchanged fittings place this old pub firmly in the era before anyone thought pubs needed a rebrand. Sitting at the heart of Columbia Road, it gets absolutely heaved on Sunday mornings when the flower market fills the street outside, but weekday evenings are quieter and the beer flows steadily. Apparently the interior is convincing enough to double as wartime London on screen, which tells you something about how little has changed.

A rum bar on All Saints Road with over a hundred bottles of the stuff downstairs, which is either a paradise or a problem depending on your Thursday. The beach-shack aesthetic runs to unpolished wood, mismatched colourful chairs, and walls clad in painted planks, so nobody's pretending this is a cocktail lounge in a suit. Caribbean food is upstairs if hunger strikes, but the basement is the reason to come.

The bar itself is carved from a solid slab of cork, its surface made from port-soaked chestnut reclaimed from old Sandeman vats, which sets the tone nicely. This cocktail bar sits in medieval vaults beneath the City, where the Sandeman family once rolled barrels up from the Thames through a tunnel that's now bricked over. Big punchy cocktails and a serious wine list, for when the square mile needs a drink, which is always.

A blood-red leather chesterfield and a pair of wingback chairs anchor the centre of this Victorian gastropub, tucked down a back street between Archway and Tufnell Park. Exposed brick, antique mirrors, an open fireplace, and a cosy yard out back make it feel more like a found object than a designed one. The kind of pub that rewards the ten-minute walk from the tube.

A Belgravia pub that swapped its exterior walls for floor-to-ceiling glass, so the neighborhood gets a good look at you nursing a pint among antlers and stuffed game birds. Inside, taupe-green panelling and distressed oak floors nail the modern gastropub brief so thoroughly it almost feels like the genre invented itself here. The kitchen leans British and serious, which means the crowd in the leather seats tends to as well.

Factory tiles, gunmetal grey walls, and mismatched furniture mark this Kennington gastropub as a thoroughly gastrofied old boozer, and it wears the look without apology. The open kitchen and chalkboard menus do their duty, the local young professionals fill it on the way home most evenings, and the whole thing hums along exactly as a neighborhood pub should without making a fuss about it.

Deep Lincoln green walls and booth seating set the mood at this dimly lit cocktail bar tucked into Edinburgh's New Town, a solid walk from the George Street crowd. The whole thing is built around a fictional Victorian rogue whose globe-trotting misadventures, including a hasty exit from London after the Cleveland Street Scandal, inspired the drinks menu. A good excuse to order something with a story attached, even if the story was made up last Tuesday.

Canoes hang from the ceiling and buoys sway above the bar, which should tell you everything about what kind of tiki cocktail bar this is. Been around forever in the basement of the London Hilton, Trader Vic's leans fully into the bamboo-and-carved-heads fantasy without a flicker of irony. The menu is vast, rum and pineapple run through most of it, and nothing strays off-brand. Order something with an umbrella in it and commit.

A Damien Hirst cow and cockerel, suspended in formaldehyde, preside over the cathedral-scale bar inside a converted Victorian power station in Shoreditch. The drinks program is the work of a serious collaborator, so cocktails get as much thought as the famously binary food menu next door. The room does the heavy lifting, and it lifts heavy: high ceilings, industrial bones, and faces pressed to the glass outside.

A champagne bar perched nearly 600 feet up in Tower 42, in the heart of the City, where the point is unmistakably the view. You reserve by phone, clear a security line that takes its cues from airport protocol, and take an ear-popping lift to the 42nd floor. London spreads out in every direction, which is fortunate, because the drinks list gives you time to look at it.

The name is short for the Dutch East India Company, which tells you most of what you need to know about this cocktail bar tucked into a courtyard behind King's Cross. The drinks list leans into punches, barrel-aged cocktails, and other recipes that feel lifted from a ship's manifest, all developed with the consultancy behind Purl. It rewards the walk through the yard to find it.

The bar's centrepiece is a slab of Italian granite so large it forms an entire corner, one of over a hundred tonnes quarried specifically for this room. It's a cocktail bar inside an izakaya-style Japanese restaurant, which means the people-watching is aggressively good: Knightsbridge's most decorative regulars tend to congregate here, looking like they've dressed for a different kind of premiere. The drinks menu holds its own against the kitchen's reputation.

Concrete floors, exposed pipes, and a crowd that collectively owns more frames without lenses than an optician's skip. Rita's is a bar and diner in Dalston where the vibe is studied-casual and the southern fried chicken arrives, charmingly, in a brown paper bag. The room is intentionally unfinished but lands warmer than it has any right to. Order a drink, find a table, and try not to feel self-conscious about your prescription glasses.

The cocktail menu runs long enough to need a table of contents, which sets the tone for what Adventure Bar is: a full-throttle party bar in Covent Garden where the vibe matters more than the drinks. Everything skews sweet, the bartenders bring the kind of energy usually reserved for chain restaurants, and nobody in the room seems to mind. If sugar isn't your thing, ask nicely and they'll improvise.

Antlers and tartan meet a corporate-hotel aesthetic upstairs, but the real draw at this Scottish-themed bar is the basement. Renamed Doon, as in doon the stairs, the lower level is moody and low-ceilinged, with five booths tunnelled into the back wall that seat around six and feel genuinely tucked away. The contrast between the polished double-height main room and the catacomb below is about as Scottish as the concept gets.

A twenty-foot copper-topped bar sits at the back of nine bowling lanes inside the Old Truman Brewery, which tells you more about this place than any sign out front does. It's a cocktail bar you can walk into without booking a lane, pouring classic American drinks, a long list of beers, and what the management modestly calls the largest bourbon collection in the UK. Large booths make it a natural group outing, bowlers and non-bowlers sharing the same cheerful noise.

Cocktails served from a raised bar platform overlooking the bowling lanes, with the restaurant on one side and a fluorescent-lit diner area on the other. All Star Lanes is a bowling-alley bar chain that usually picks more characterful spots, so the Westfield Stratford address is a slight detour from the brand's natural habitat. Come for a drink, bowl a few frames, and don't overthink the decor.

Tucked beneath Whiteley's shopping centre, this retro bowling bar leans hard into the American theme, right down to what is reportedly London's largest bourbon selection. Diner food runs all evening, burgers and steaks and serious desserts, but the real draw is the lanes themselves, where celebratory knee slides are not uncommon. Karaoke nights have since joined the rotation for anyone whose competitive spirit lives in their vocal cords.

Red leather booths, dark wood laminates, and round-cornered mirrors give this Islington cocktail bar the feel of a New York lounge that got off at the wrong Tube stop. Spread across two compact floors on a scrappy market street, it runs on cocktails and music in roughly equal measure. The name is Gaelic for "life and soul," which sets expectations clearly. A bouncer at the door means some nights you're in, and some nights you're politely not.

Cockney rhyming slang gives this Brick Lane-area bar its name, which means "stairs" for anyone not raised within earshot of Bow Bells. Inside, green pendant lights hang against exposed London brick, the armchairs are comfortably battered, and the terrace out back is about as no-frills as it gets. A second bar downstairs opens when the weekend crowd warrants it. The whole place wears its East End scruffiness without apology.

A tequila and mezcal bar tucked into the King's Road with over 70 varieties on the shelf, Azteca sits in deliberate contrast to the boutiques outside. Day of the Dead decor, a Mexican staff, and a lineup of DJs keep the mood far from Chelsea-polished. Live bands squeeze in occasionally. It's the kind of bar where you order another round because the conversation is good, not because you've run out of options.

Wood-panelled walls and a recording-studio vibe make this cocktail bar feel like the grown-up secret Hard Rock Cafe didn't tell anyone about. Tucked around the corner from the Mayfair flagship, it trades the memorabilia frenzy for something quieter: properly mixed drinks in a room that reads more gentleman's library than rock temple. Surprisingly few people know it exists, which is probably why the atmosphere stays so easy.

The cocktail menu is daubed in red paint on the wall, which sets a certain tone. Bar 55 is a small, unhurried cocktail bar on Stoke Newington Road that doubles as a cafe by day, with colourful chandeliers, bare wooden boards, and enough Victorian parlour atmosphere to feel deliberate rather than accidental. Look for the London road signs on the frontage; the name itself won't give you much. A basement handles private events when the mood calls for it.

Dark wood walls, dim lighting, and soft leather chairs sit below street level near Piccadilly Circus, giving this classic cocktail bar the feel of somewhere that has always existed, deep underground, waiting for you specifically. The room strikes a balance between sophisticated and slightly conspiratorial, the kind of place where you order a second drink before finishing your first and nobody thinks less of you for it.

A nondescript door beside El Mexicano leads up an unpromising staircase to this small first-floor bar in the North Lanes. The bare floors and magnolia walls are easy enough to forgive, but the vinyl banquettes and oddly shaped mirrors are working hard against the room. What saves it is a large bowed window with a view straight over Royal Pavilion Park, which is doing a lot of heavy lifting for the decor budget.

A uniformed attendant operates the lift down to the basement, which sets the tone before you've ordered a drink. This Shoreditch cocktail bar leans harder into the kitsch than its Notting Hill predecessor ever did, with international DJs, live cabaret, and a rooftop that opens London up beneath you. The Pornstar Martini, done with vanilla and passion fruit, is the crowd's clear favorite, and nobody here seems embarrassed about that.

Byzantine tilework, Baroque flourishes, and what appears to be a Gaudí fever dream somehow cohabiting in a Georgian townhouse on Ledbury Road. BBB, as the Notting Hill regulars call it, is a bar and restaurant with one of the more committed interiors in the neighborhood, where the back rooms veer into something almost monastic. The cocktail program has had its critics, so the Mediterranean food may be the safer bet.

Stacked slate, bare stone, and wood salvaged from the Highlands line the walls of this resolutely old-school beer and whisky bar on the Finnieston strip. No cocktails, no fuss: it's what Glasgow calls a half 'n' half pub, which means you order a pint and a dram and mind your own business. The Highland interior is genuinely surprising behind an exterior that looks like it has never once considered reinventing itself.

A lounge bar steps from the old meat market, spread across several floors of a Georgian townhouse, with a bijou roof terrace that earns its adjective. Ground level feels like someone's well-read living room, shelves of coffee table books and cushioned benches around small tables, a compact bar tucked at the back. The upper floors shift the register toward cocktails and candlelight, which gives you options depending on how the evening is going.

A baby grand piano sits mid-room in this long, narrow cocktail bar on West George Street, which tells you most of what you need to know about the mood. Leather banquettes line the walls, the lighting is kept low, and on weekends a live jazz band fills the place with an older crowd who seem in no hurry to leave. The cocktail list runs long, though it has drifted toward the sweeter end of things lately.

The bar sits on the first floor of a former Art Deco car garage on the King's Road, reached by lift and centered on a polished steel island bar in a room that feels cathedral-large. It's a cocktail bar inside Terence Conran's old "gastrodome" project, which means the bones are ambitious and the crowd dresses accordingly. The whole thing carries the confident, slightly frozen energy of something that was very much the future once.

Luchador posters and Mayan-drilled polystyrene ceiling tiles set the tone at this Mexican bar and taqueria tucked off Soho's Old Compton Street. The taqueria side enters from Moor Street and buzzes around an island bar, while the restaurant entrance is a block away. Eight tequila brands, no mixtos, across 22 pours, with Tapatio in the speed rail and a top-shelf option that'll run you past twenty-five quid.

Tucked down Swedeland Court, a passageway beside Dirty Dick's, this whisky and cocktail bar carries a Scottish theme that stops well short of tartan overkill. It's the City outpost of the Belgravia original, which means suits from Liverpool Street fill the room early and stay late. The kind of place where the whisky list does most of the talking and you find yourself ordering a second dram before you've finished deciding on a first.

Rough-hewn planks on the walls and upturned casks for seating set the tone at this pared-down wine bar in Jericho, sitting opposite the rather more famous Raoul's. The list is short and deliberate, with everything available by the glass and tasting notes that actually say something useful. Nothing here is trying to impress you, which, in Oxford, is quietly impressive. Local art fills the gaps on the walls that the wood doesn't.

A metal fire-escape staircase is your only clue that a bar exists below Rathbone Place at all. Once you're down, the basement reveals itself as a cocktail bar styled like a parlour your grandmother would have thrown a very good party in: floral wallpaper, parquet floors, white-clothed tables. The whole thing sits ten tables deep, which keeps it intimate enough that nobody is performing for strangers.

Three railway arches behind Borough Market, and each one earns its keep: the first holds a bar counter lined with gleaming pumps, the middle an open kitchen and glass-fronted beer cellar, the last a view of the actual brewing vessels. It's a beer hall and microbrewery with a walled yard out front, simple wooden tables throughout, and bare brick rising to arched ceilings. The kind of place where the pint comes from the building you're sitting in.