Fridays at the Union

It's Friday afternoon, the end of another long work week, and I'm particularly excited to be walking out the door in a matter of minutes.

Why? Because I'm heading to my favorite pub in all of London on my way home: The Union Tavern.

There's nothing particularly special about this pub in and of itself. It's nice and clean and friendly, but it's not like it's in the world's best location, and their selection isn't anything you wouldn't find at any one of the hundreds of other pubs in central London. It's more about what the Union represents.

Every time my boyfriend visits London, on Friday afternoon we hit the Union. It's our Friday thing. The first time was a bit of a lark, just because it happened to be on the way and we felt like stopping in for a drink, and since then it's just become kind of an inside joke. It's actually nice that it's not too central, because it's rarely crowded. We get our usual table, order our usual two glasses of red wine and an appetizer or two, and tuck in. We've even got a tradition going of reenacting the photo we took the first time we went there, with him kissing me on the cheek (collectively: "Awwww.")

It's a great way to kick off weekend mode, and a nice little set of memories to look back on for the future.

And if anyone ever asks me whether I've got a favorite British pub, the answer is yes. ;-)