The Trafalgar Pub, South Wimbledon SW19

BY BILL LACY

I didn’t quite stumble upon this place, but neither did I quite know where it was.

I’d heard a few mentions of the “Traf”, and because I happened to be in Wimbledon for an unrelated purpose, the opportunity to visit seemed too good to pass up. But it turned out a more complicated find than expected, involving a short bus ride and a walk through what appeared to be a housing estate.

As we walked away from Wimbledon and deeper into Merton, I warded off uxorial grumbles with the promise “but there’s Shere Drop”, interpreted as an invitation to walk down a steep hill and not particularly well received.

Eventually, like that magical room in Harry Potter that only appears when you need it, we were there. The Trafalgar blends into its surroundings because it is, really, a house; a very fine house but a house all the same.

The pub is basically one room and it has the look and feel of a living room, albeit a living room that is very long and narrow and serves a wonderful array of ales. My kind of living room. My kind of pub. It was worth the walk.

The pub worked. Everybody looked exactly like they should be there. All (apart from us) were over 50, and talking contentedly at their tables; it was a collection of separate groups but, at the same time, there was an unspoken, organic connection between everybody, snippets of conversation floating around freely in the air for anyone to grasp on to.

When I went to the bar, it was almost as if the barmaid knew what I was about to order, even though I wasn’t a regular, her hand already angled towards the Shere Drop, not a steep hill of course but the current Supreme Champion Beer of Britain.

I’m getting carried away now, but as I say, it was my kind of pub. Funnily enough, the configuration of the pub that night would have happily co-existed with any social distancing requirements without interfering with the enjoyment. But this was a Thursday night and busier nights, such as when they play live music, would probably be defeated.

The lifeline of takeaway beer, important for all struggling pubs, was especially useful for a place like The Traf, whose exemplary handling of quality produce attracted many punters for takeaway orders; one of the first people I bumped into in those mad days last March had just picked up a cask order from the pub.

At the time of writing, takeaway alcohol orders are banned under lockdown rules, but this could hopefully be revised when we move back into the tiered system (incredible how even a takeaway beer is now a thing one dreams of).

The Trafalgar is traditional, friendly, cosy, unpretentious and atmospheric. And as they recently said on their website: “Here’s to a future where we can all be bopping along shoulder to shoulder to a band on a Friday night once again”. England indeed expects (and hopes).

The Trafalgar, 23 High Path, South Wimbledon, London SW19 2JY.