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Quiet, not too touristy, this east Bloomsbury choice (where Ted Hughes took Sylvia Plath on their early dates) is representative of a neighborhood local that still has some prime Victoriana from the old days. Check out the rare sunburst etched-glass snob screens obscuring the bar, built so you don’t have to look the help in the eye. Or put 50p in the polyphon in the corner—that’s a musical metal disc that works like a music box and was the gramophone of a century ago. The carpet is a tired tartan, the walls lined with sepia photographs of long-forgotten stage actresses, and the cask beers are out-of-the-ordinary enough to intrigue.