The Inn

Jason and Sarah built The Inn the old-fashioned way — Plywood, mahogany stain, a worrying amount of enthusiasm, and absolutely no involvement from an interior designer.

There are proper hand pulls, optics on the gantry, supermarket spirit offers, and enough glassware hanging from the beams to suggest we may have a licensing problem.

Welcome to Hornchurch’s very own Club Tropicana — fun and sunshine, optional dancing, and enough for everyone.

Theakston Dark Mild on the pump.
Because someone said “we should open a pub” and nobody said no.

The ceiling currently houses one of East London’s more comprehensive collections of beer mats. Classification work remains ongoing.

Every glass paid for, original contents that is.

Every tankard hanging from the ceiling has poured something worth remembering. Or something someone can't remember.

Nothing matches. Everything has a story.

And if there’s an empty bit of wall, shelf, beam or ceiling, it’s clearly not being used properly.

It’s a proper little boozer. A bit wonky, a bit overfilled, and absolutely no chance of anyone calling it tidy.

Built with love, questionable DIY skills and the firm belief that you can never have too much glassware. Sarah would like it formally recorded that not all of this was her idea.

All that’s missing is the landlords… …and the outcome of several ongoing regulatory enquiries.