Rather that sit in my own filth in my room Ive come to my local to write about my passion of something I can't master yet. The Wheatsheaf based on Tooting Bec crossroads is one of those London boozers with a checkered past. I remember when I first moved to Tooting 5 years ago the sheaf was one of those places you turn your eyes away when you walk past just incase a second generation Irish builder glasses you into submission. But as I sit in my chesterfield for one sipping away at my ice cold Brooklyn Lager I couldn't be further away from those dark sorry days.
The Black Keys pumping through the stereo with their 8 different constantly changing guest ale pumps is the perfect catalyst for writing about bearddom so I grabbed a 100% british beef burger with stilton and bacon to compliment the caramel malts of my Brooklyn to settle myself into a hopefully productive/drunken (delete as aplicable) night.
If your from the SW London you will know of this wonderful places owners Antic London so im not going to wittle on about them, just check out their site and make sure you get to one of their opening parties, they are fucking wicked.
Anyway enough of the pub review. To beards....................
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