I stood next to a father & son at the bar. Father in his mid to late 50s... dressed from head to toe in camouflage (why??!) with black Arsenal baseball cap. Son in late twenties with 'Dad' tattooed on one hand and 'Mum' on the other. Both of them insisted on spitting inside the pub every 2 or 3 minutes.
I beat a hasty retreat after finishing my pint of Amstel.
Very nice apartment as it goes, certainly for the time which was 99-2002. No such thing as The Emirates then.
Bang on for my purposes. Close to the tube and close to the football. Mrs found it as part of a property search but I think was at first unaware of just where it was, presented to me as an option which clearly worked for me.
I remember it had a "concierge", the amiable Roy whose only job from what I could tell was to intercept parcels which were delivered during the working day.