The Flower Pot in Aston, near Henley, was one of my favourite pubs in the country, a charming, eccentric time capsule cluttered with esoteric decoration: dozens of cases of stuffed fish and animals, angling paraphernalia and Edwardian art; there was even a resident parrot.
It was always rammed, with everyone from vicars to Hell’s Angels
The pub opened in 1890, at almost exactly the same time as the publication of Three Men in a Boat, and in a certain light, after a few drinks, it could feel as though one was actually inhabiting the quirky, late-Victorian England described by Jerome K. Jerome. So when I found myself in the vicinity at the end of the summer, fancying a swim in the Thames from the pub’s own jetty, which is just down a rambling lane from The Flower Pot, and then a pint afterwards, I diverted there. Only to discover it had been utterly ruined.
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