18 NOVEMBER 1995, Page 54

At the Plumbers' Arms

Above pub trestles, that plaque on the wall's re. Master Builder Thomas Cubitt's re- development toward Victoria — all leased from Lord Grosvenor, Mr Big, pre- Great-Reform-Bill . . . Nearby, stucco's cracking, like form. They'll list the 1970s' bete noire for goggle tourists, by hanging baskets' November evergreens? Here is where Lady Lucan ran after He slayed Nanny. That plaque marks that old two-bar blend: the footmen, grooms not mixed with butlers, trade.

So everything becomes quaint in the end: old love, old art, old artisans, old death, old crime, old form . . . sunlit, we broach new breath.

Val Warner