King's Cross St. Pancras - King Charles I

Thursday 4th May 2023

When unique occasions arise, this blog will do everything it can to align itself to them. And with life expectancies as they are, and my birthday falling nicely between that of heirs one and two, I'm likely to only see three coronations in my lifetime so it's worth making the most of it. Charlie III, of course no longer the Prince of Wales or the Duke of Cornwall, doesn't, at the time of writing, have any pubs named after him so the next closest option was his beheaded namesake King Charles I in King's Cross.

In terms of entries and exits combined, King's Cross St Pancras (or King's Cross St Pancras International according to the tube map as of last year) is the most used station on the entire London Underground network and is served by six different tube lines. Unsurprising given its position as the gateway to the country's 9th and 12th busiest stations, King's Cross and St. Pancras since 1868.

The latter's history is intertwined with London's appetite for beer. When the Midland Railway opened in the 1860s brewers in Burton-upon-Trent used St. Pancras as the hub for quenching the thirst of cockneys salivating for pale ales instead of the darker stouts and porters typically drank in the capital. Offering storage in cellars underneath the passenger platforms and a dedicated warehouse to the north of St Pancras capable of holding 120,000 barrels, the Midland Railway became the prime passage for the movement of beer. So much so in fact, that the Burton-based Bass Brewing Company became the largest railway customer anywhere in the world. Bass's output peaked in 1874, when with the assistance of St Pancras and the Midland Railway, it delivered 292,300 barrels (or 84,182,400 pints if my maths, and google search, is correct) of beer to London.

Even the best efforts of Britons forecast to drink 17 million more pints than usual (62 million in total for anyone wondering) over the course of the Coronation weekend can't match that number.

With a plethora of exits (11 if I've counted correctly), King's Cross St Pancras has a wealth of pubs to choose from to meet the five minute walking distance criteria. A short walk up the Caledonian Road, where boarded up shops were plastered in 'God Bless the Nepo Baby' patriotic posters, was the one I had in mind.

I have not lived in a London prior to the regeneration of King's Cross but King Charles I is an example of what it might have been like. The pub itself was earmarked for development following its closure in 2015 until their neighbours and customers stepped in and saved it. Eighteen shareholders, including the architect Peter Barber, raised £70,000 for the leasehold and have been operating it as a community pub ever since, even gaining the accolade as an Asset of Community Value two years ago.

From the front, on a Thursday evening after work you wouldn't assume this to be a quite local, with people pouring outside and covering the pavement in their masses under a sign of King Charles I in caricature viewed from the front and the back. Entering under a window pane complete with the words 'Drink with Dignity', I proceeded to order the first of three coronation special pints, the Coronation Pale, Coronation Blonde and my personal favourite, Old Tripe, priced at a very reasonable £4.50, as well as some nuts which were glowingly described by Jack as "good".

There is a varied decor inside, from pub staples like plenty of Guinness memorabilia and an array of mirrors, to a wealth of taxidermy, skulls and masks hanging from a wall. Other areas have a more musical theme with a guitar, piano and working jukebox as well as a less conventional stained glass window of a blonde Elvis Presley.

Despite the bar running with impressive efficiency and avoiding any build up of queues, seating was much harder to come by. After our group of eight took turns standing and sitting we eventually settled in at a long table Dan insisted was 'varnished pine' rather than mahogany. Sheltered by a bookshelf containing sheets of music, a dictionary and an atlas, we drank on (with dignity) ahead of the formal commencement of the third Carolean age.