Have a drink in a real London pub – The King & Queen, Fitzroiva

The homogenisation of London isn't just happening to the architecture, it's also happening to pubs as breweries rip out and refit in an attempt to blandify* our social environments.
Pubs used to be the social hub of an area, where people gathered to relax after work, meet friends and sing songs together in a place that felt like a home from home. But, sadly, pubs are closing down at an alarming rate these days and the landlords of our once-loved drinking holes and are calling "final orders" for the last time.
So a big "hurrah!" for the independently run King and Queen in Fitzrovia, run by friendly staff who know and understand every beer and whisky they sell.

Some pics mine, some from K&Q's website

As you can see from the pics above, this building is a one-off gem with it's witch's hat roof and weathervane atop a turret, and decorative architectural details. Note especially the mosaic floor in the side door (now only access to ladies toilet from within), the carved relief sign, those curved windows and some lovely woodwork and glass.

All power to K&Q's beer-pulling elbow.

The pub sits just around the corner from the BT Tower and across the road from the GradeII listed Georgian-Victorian workhouse building. 

I heard recently that another of my old favourites, the Duke of Sussex at Waterloo, near the corner of Lower Marsh, has been refitted and is now another gastropub. Yawn. It used to be great in there with a real mix of people enjoying each others' company plus fun friendly nights at the weekends. Go google yourself because I refuse to link to it now. I doubt they have they kept their colourful toilets.

*one of my own words. See also Dubaiification.

Another visit to Lower Marsh – barrows and arrowsI still think there must be an old painted ad and a lost ghostsign

Back in March 2014 I wrote about Lower Marsh and its demise as a once thriving market street. And then followed it up with a piece about the old costermongers' barrows along that street with their carved stamps.
I was back there recently and so I snapped a few pics for an update:

There were only four barrows left on my most recent visit.

These lovely old barrows are now relics of a bygone time. Earlier this year The Gentle Author wrote a full and interesting piece about the last few days in the workshop of Hiller Brothers Barrow Makers, a company name that features on some of the ones in Lower Marsh. See also an earlier post written about the barrows of Spitalfields.
I am always saddened to see trades like these fade away in the face of progress. As an occasional market trader myself I have noticed that the style of market stalls on offer these days is ever-changing. For casual events it's rare to be allocated a standard metal frame with decent hanging space and cover – often it's either tables from a community centre or pop-up open-sided marquees. And Christmas markets are now more likely to be Bavarian-style wooden shacks. Surely if people want to visit a market of that type it would be better to go to mainland Europe to get the real deal? Can't we offer the tourists an English Victorian-style Christmas instead? I am sure they'd love that. Without the paupers and pickpockets of course.
Anyway, I digress, as usual.
I spotted some other changes in Lower Marsh, and two things in particular:

I still think there must be an old ad under that red paint above the old Artichoke Pub

On the side of Sino Thai Restaurant, on the corner of Leake Street, there is a nice addition – an arrow of little nesting boxes created by http://wearewaterloo.co.uk/news/feathered-friends. How lovely.

But at the end of Vauxhall end of the street I see that a new building now obliterates the ghostsign that once read, "Dover Castle Proprietors / Pioneer Catering / Luncheons & Dinners / [...] Prices / [...] Stout". See the fourth pic, above right, for how it looks today.
The rebuilt New Dover Castle pub was actually on the opposite corner of the street at 172 Westminster Bridge Road and is now the Walrus Bar and Hostel.