The Bull, Highgate

My first attempt at going to The Bull didn't go well. I'd been wandering around trying to find a pub that wasn't packed on a Sunday afternoon and I found one; it was The Bull. It was deserted; I wasn't even sure it was open. I cautiously approached the doors and peered in, seeing fridges filled with bottles of Becks and a couple of dead-eyed staff staring out, their blank stares seemingly willing me to come in and give their day and their lives some meaning. The place had all the charm of a branch of Foxtons, and if things are so bad that you're looking to me to give the place some life then frankly the battle is already lost. →