We walked to this spoons following our Montague Pyke visit. Perhaps the smallest Spoons in the world, it is one of many branches to borrow it’s name from George Orwell.
In an essay describing his fictional ideal for a pub, Orwell bestowed upon it the name, “the moon under water”.
That’s a nice fact to brandish with gusto over your snobby acquaintances who deem themselves too good for spoons.
Our comments are short and sweet, like the Spoons itself.
In the heart of bustling Leicester Square, it is comforting to find a familiar spoons, and all that promises, priceisright beer, the same £4.15 Kronie we have grown accustomed to in the heart of London. As with every Spoons a splendid feast with a concomitant bevvie if one so chooses is always available.
There were some nice film posters to look at en route to the loos but beyond that, the toilets were unremarkable.
Overall the deco was clean and pleasant, but unremarkable. If we were in the area and fancied a spoons we would go gladly, but it was no Hamilton Hall, our current benchmark for quality Spoons. We did especially like the subtle chandeliers in this petit spoons, or teaspoons.