DECOR ***** (classy but cosy) DRINK **** (Top range of wine and Fuller’s beers, but sadly no guest ales) PRICE *** (dear but worth it) ATMOSPHERE **** (relaxed) STAFF **** (great service) FOOD **** (pie heaven)

ONCE upon a time The Partridge pub in Bromley was a Nat West bank. Converted in 1995 by Fuller, Smith and Turner, it still looks and feels like a million bucks, now serving customers pints and pies instead of pounds and pennies.

If you take a deep breath you can still smell the scent of newly printed cash and it looks more like a City private members’ club than a town centre boozer.

Its high ceiling, deep red walls, dark wooden tables, leather-topped seating and tiled floor lend it an air of smart sophistication and class which is depressingly absent in other boozers along the high street.

While the elegant chandeliers and polished brass detail on the tables and serving area add to the pub’s decadent appeal.

Heck, even the toilets here are uncharacteristically fragrant.

Behind the bar, manned by attentive and friendly staff, are racks of neatly displayed wines and bottled speciality beers and ciders, while busts of various deceased dignitaries peer down from the top shelf on the mere mortals below.

As you would expect from a Fuller’s pie and ale pub, there is a wide range of the brewery’s beer on tap as well as an appetising selection of, well, pies, not to mention daily specials and a main menu including the usual fish and chips, steak and burgers.

As I settled down on one of the many plush leather sofas with my pint of smoky Discovery blonde beer (£3.40), I listened out for the ping of a microwave which in most pubs signals the imminent arrival of your food.

However, when my chicken, sun-dried tomato and courgette pie (£8.95) arrived, it thankfully appeared to be radiation free.

Puffed up like a windy toad, it was more pastry than pie, but what meagre filling there was tasty, piping hot and devilishly morish, with succulent chunks of meat in a rich, creamy sauce.

Served with a generous portion of mash, swede, carrots and cabbage, it was a struggle to finish it all, but it was a worthy challenge nonetheless.

With plenty of cosy booths and secluded nooks and crannies to retreat to with a glass of your favourite poison, the pub is not as impersonal as its grand size suggests.

The Partridge is a handy meeting place for shoppers, theatre-goers and workers, with business deals and office politics being the hot topics discussed on my visit one busy weekday lunchtime.

Favoured by the higher age bracket, there is an over 21s rule on the door, it’s a chav free zone and the music is turned respectfully low to encourage conversation. Huzzah!

Ok, so it’s a tad pricey. But if you pay peanuts, you get monkeys.

If we nosedive back into another recession, maybe more boozers will rise from the ashes of liquidated banks.

But who’s complaining when the result is this good.

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