The KPH

The KPH has grown to become my absolute favourite since my initial review and I’ve spent far too many a late night here — as well as a big birthday party in their beautiful Theatre Room upstairs.
What makes the place so special is quite difficult to pinpoint — it’s like having a London version of «Cheers» on my doorstep; a genuinely friendly pub where everyone is welcome, a cross section of all the people who make this part of Notting Hill so special. When I walk past I always spot at least a couple of famililar faces, and more often than not I pop in.
The regular music nights are most definitely a highlight: jazz on Mondays, soul and reggae on Thursdays, and loads of sounds in between. Saturdays are a bit louder, Sundays very mellow, every night is special.
I have come to love the fact that nothing at the KPH is predictable, it’s just an honest old boozer with surprisingly good pizzas. All the more shocking that my home from home is under threat. While we were having fun, the manager has been fighting court cases to keep the place going. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that this atmospheric sanctuary in the heart of Ladbroke Grove can be saved.

KP– the quintessence of Ladbroke Grove.
I can die happy now, I’ve experienced it all!
It’s been there for over 25 years. It was called KP — it closed its doors in 2010 (it was mourned and people sent flowers)…then Ta-​Dah! it reopened under a new name: Kensington Park Public House.
Many consider it the last «blast from the past» of Ladbroke Grove. No candles, no flowers, no fancy-​schmancy interior.
The main reason I went there (besides curiosity — I’ve been passing this place every day for nearly 2 years now) was *drum roll* the floor!
I heard that back in the day, the floor was actually covered with carpet. But it’s so old and worn out right now, that you can’t exactly tell if it’s carpet or dry mud. Haha.
Ticking that off my list — I got a larger top. We were served right away by a lovely lady and the beer was cold and good.
The prices reflect that the KP is one of the last «working class» pubs in the area (they accept only cash, by the way).
The clientele is mixed: black, white, asian, young and old and of course– your local Grove people who sat there since the 50s.
The sofas are real comfy and a bit funny smelling but they have a pool table (for £1), a very old jukebox (5 songs for £1), fruit machines, a dart board, newspapers, WIFI and a few screens for showing the footie.
The pub is quite friendly, nobody bothered us (even though when we went through the doors everybody stopped and looked at us — so wild, wild west).
Believe it or not, children are welcomed until 19.00 and they have baby changing facilities.
In an area where every classic pub was turned into a fancy-​gastro place, the Kensington Park retains all the old Notting Hill spirit.
So don’t be put off by the rough exterior or the geezers smoking right in the door — Give it a try– its an experience. :)

Yes, this is really a weird place, but the jukebox, the woodwork, and that strange 1950s island in the middle of the bar area make me very happy, or have on the two occasions in the past 18 months that I’ve been lucky enough to be in London at all. And on both occasions someone has bought me a drink and offered me free lodgings in Kensal Rise when I was minding my own business and having a pint of cider. The first gentleman was eccentric but sober; his successor a year later was a bit alarming but benign, and pointed out something interesting from a carpentry standpoint about the underside of the Victorian staircase. (I didn’t take either of them up on the offer.)
Even if I weren’t in Lagos at the moment I would feel nostalgic for this place. (Nothing against Lagos, but it is extremely unlike Ladbroke Grove. Maybe if Van Morrison had written Astral Weeks about Lagos I’d be equally sappy about my current in-​transit location.) That said, a local at the Galicia bar a few blocks away, in the shadow of Trellick Tower, said this pub has a longstanding reputation for being a place to avoid at night, and given how loose and wild things can get on a rainy afternoon I took that seriously.

Ah Kensington Park… a name that conjures up delightful image of of fragrant and eye pleasing royal garden… this place really ought to be forced into a name change! Grim, grey (and that’s just the people in it) and most unwelcoming establishment… shame given it’s size and location (nicely close to Portobello), it could be so much more… oh, and whatever you do expect an interrogation from the not so friendly publican if you dare to nip to the loo before you’ve ordered your drink!
In one word… avoid!