The Jolly Farmers

This is a grossly misunderstood pub, which most of Lewisham’s 18 — 35 year olds shun in favour of the more consciously-​cool Ravensbourne Arms (which is on the other side of the road).
At first glance, the Jolly appears to be your archetypal dead-​end drinking hole: a cliché of an old man pub that ticks off every sorry box in the «clapped out» checklist, including a cohort of elderly gentlemen nursing pints of generic real ale.
But if you spend some time there — maybe over two or three visits — you realise that this place is deeply interesting, with a cast of characters as lively as Eastenders’ Queen Victoria but without the unpleasantness.
There’s the backgammon team, who practice there at least once a week and play other pub teams in the area. They are always ready for a chat if you catch them at the bar or in the garden, but will try to recruit you (even though they have no shortage of members). The pub stays open later if the backgammon team are in.
There is also a sort of unofficial open mic night, which can fall on any day of the week (it’s not planned in advance, just depends when the folk musicians turn up). This comprises ukuleles, guitars, fiddles and small drums, with people playing together or on their own. It’s an open mic night because anyone can join in, but there isn’t actually a microphone (in their defence, the pub don’t actually call it an «open mic night» but that’s essentially what it is). The lack of microphones is nice because the music played is quiet, so you can have a conversation without having to shout; the music constitutes inoffensive background noise. They usually play Irish folk songs, with Dirty Old Town always featuring at least once.
The pub quiz is an anarchic affair. I can never remember what day this falls, often turning up with a small team to find that there’s no quiz that evening. I am starting suspect that it’s a moveable feast, such is the character of the Jolly Farmer. When the quiz does happen, it can vary from extremely hard to stupidly easy, but there is a cash prize — if that’s not incentive enough for taking part, they also provide food. Sandwiches, sausage rolls, pakoras, chicken (a variety of children’s party fare). Surprisingly, there is always loads of it, so if you were so inclined you could easily eat a day’s worth of food.
The bar maid is a traditional no nonsense type, just as well because the patrons are a little eccentric. So if you do fall in to conversation, don’t believe everything they say. One of them recently claimed to have been a chauffeur for Ginger Rogers. Thankfully there is a garden refuge to retreat to, just in case.