Plough and Harrow

Head out towards Warfield and you'll find yourself in proper commuter-belt countryside, where the Plough and Harrow sits like it's been there forever—because it basically has. This is the kind of pub where you'll clock regulars nursing pints on a Tuesday afternoon, not because they're unemployed but because they've earned it. The food's straightforward and honest: think pies that don't taste like cardboard, Sunday roasts that justify the trip, and the sort of portions that mean you won't need dinner. It's got that lived-in feel, all worn wood and the smell of a working kitchen.