Drinking

History suggests the Royal Family have always been enthusiastic drinkers. The most obvious example is Henry VIII, a monarch who proved to be excessive in everything he did, and spent an estimated £6m a year on booze. And in more recent centuries you’ll discover an ongoing Royal appreciation. Queen Victoria for example was an eminent imbiber of alcohol, her preferred poison being an unusual mix of whisky and red wine. Together. In the same glass. She was particularly partial to Vin Mariani, a drink made by Angelo Mariani by steeping cocoa leaves in French red wine for six months. Alleged to be the original recipe for Coca-Cola, each fluid ounce once contained 7.

‘When you have lost your inns, drown your empty selves, for you will have lost the last of England.’ So said Hilaire Belloc. Thankfully there’s little sign of England, or indeed Britain, being down to its last pub – but which was its first? As ever with these debates, a definitive answer is hard to find: accurate record-keeping wasn’t a priority several centuries ago, when the pubs pulled their early pints. But here are a few of the boozers with a claim to be the country’s oldest.

If, like me, you’re thinking longingly of the days spent drinking with friends in some of London’s finest establishments – then worry no longer, here are some of best ways to enjoy your afternoon tipple from the comfort of your own home. There’s never been a better time to get into whisky – and Milroy’s has you covered. This Soho gem is shipping its finely curated whisky collections to your door. A simple online order brings you the best from around the world – Scotch from the Highlands, Lowlands, Speyside, Islay and Campbelltown; Bourbon and rye from the United States; and a host of other malts from Japan, Sweden, Australia, South Africa and more.

On the street where I grew up there was an old man who was sweet, friendly… and racist. This was the 1980s: every street had one. Always draped in an overcoat, even when it was tarmac-meltingly hot, he’d march back from the corner shop each morning, tabloid tucked under arm, looking to ensnare one of us in chat. About the weather. The football. ‘Coloureds.’

One time, I was walking back from the Chinese takeaway when he appeared. Spotting the takeaway’s distinctive white bags, he cried out cheerily: ‘You don’t wanna be eating that muck! Can’t your mum make a roast?!’ His blather burst out of my memory banks recently when I was reading about Lena Dunham, Girls star, feminist and fan of the unflattering nude scene.