Alison Ross
The Coach & Horses
Walking into The Coach & Horses. Alison is wrapping up the lunch rush. At the Coach & Horses, it’s liquid lunch only. No food crosses the bar - just history poured and conversation shared. Perched above the bar, the Fuller’s Pub of the Year award for Best City Pub. A testament to its rich character.
Intellectuals, journalists, and local eccentrics have long gathered here. Drawn in by the mellow atmosphere and warm familiarity. It’s a place where stories are told, debates unfold, and laughter lingers in the wood panelled air.
At the far end, Alison stands in “the deep end,” scanning the room with the effortless familiarity of someone who knows every inch of this space. She greets regulars by name. Her presence as natural and integral as the worn barstools. She doesn’t just work here - she belongs, woven into the very fabric of the place.
She’s spent fifteen years behind some of Fuller’s most storied bars - The Union Tavern, The Flask, The Hydrant. Settling here six years ago. The Coach & Horses has stories soaked into its floorboards. Once ruled by the infamously rude Norman Balon, frequented by the likes of Jeffrey Bernard, the famed Spectator journalist, who was often too inebriated to submit his column. When deadlines loomed and copy failed to materialise, the magazine would simply print: Jeffrey Bernard is unwell. That phrase became the title of a West End play, first starring his friend Peter O’Toole and later staged in the very pub itself. A tribute to its deep, entwined history with London’s literary scene.
As a fellow north Londoner, I smile as she takes me back to her childhood, where her love for pubs first took root. It began on shopping trips with her father. Stopping at The Elephant Inn was tradition. Him with a pint, her with a soda. Later, she found herself at the Churchill Arms for Thai food, unknowingly nurturing a lifelong affection for the warmth and character of pub culture.
“I just really like pubs,” she says, enjoying wandering through London alone, discovering new pubs along the way, each one adding to her love for the city's vibrant pub culture.
Alison speaks with candid honesty about her life as a pub manager. “Consistency is key,” she says, “and if you don’t love it, find something else to do.”
Raising the camera, aiming to catch a portrait. Alison shifts, uneasy as ever when the camera is aimed her way. A ripple of chuckles and knowing glances drifts through the pub. Unfazed, she lines up drinks with the ease of a seasoned pro, because she is one. As a walking tour group trickles in, ordering half-pints before continuing their pilgrimage across other historic London pubs, Alison watches over the room, ever the guardian of its stories.
