I left Tony’s feeling heavier but lighter, if that makes any sense. We ate slowly, laughing at the weirdness of it all. “This is so weirdly British,” I said, pointing at a jar of cockles on the counter. My friend just shrugged. “It’s normal if you’re from here.” And that’s the magic of places like this. They make the strange feel ordinary, and the ordinary feel sacred.
So if you’re ever in Waltham Abbey, do yourself a favour. Skip the generic chain pubs. Walk past the Greggs. Find that unassuming shop with the green and white sign. Order two pies, a mountain of mash, and a waterfall of liquor. And for goodness’ sake, say hello to the eels. They’ve been waiting for you. You won’t regret it. (Unless you order the jellied eels. Then maybe a little regret. But it’s the good kind.)
