What springs to mind when you think of Epsom? Horse racing would top most peoples’ lists, in particular the Derby. The salts would be up there too and then, of course, there’s the dear old clock tower, slap-bang in the centre of town.

Whenever I think of Epsom I’m reminded of some great times in the town’s boozers. Oh, but then there was that time I staggered into a lamppost on my way home from the Marquis of Granby because I was texting and not watching what I was doing.

I know what you’re thinking: I got what I deserved – punctured pride and a bang on the bonce.

That incident aside, I’ve generally had some good times.

Unfortunately, last week’s visit to the White Horse won’t be one I’ll recall in years to come.

On this occasion, I managed to negotiate a safe passage from the train station, all the way up Dorking Road, until I reached the pub on a wet and windy afternoon.

As a result, by the time I walked through the doors of the White Horse I was wet and windswept and well up for a pint.

The clientele at that time of day consisted of the retired and the unemployed. The latter group looked like they’d rolled out of bed and into the pub for a game of pool before rolling off back home to bed.

In an attempt to lift the gloom, I put the irritating sound of Chelsea-supporting chavs playing pool to one side, bought myself a pint of Bombardier and sat down at a table to gather my thoughts.

Seconds later, the peace was shattered by a rather ropey-looking woman who came bolting in with her cap-wearing sidekick declaring she’d had enough of her boyfriend.

If she mentioned it once, she mentioned it 20 times. I reckon the guy had a lucky escape, personally.

And so to the pub itself. One part of it has a dark, cosy and traditional feel with nice padded benches, wooden tables and plenty of horse racing pictures, as you might expect. The other side, which houses the pool area, is light and airy and doubles up as a function room.

I know this is a place which promotes live music, so it earns brownie points for that.

Before my visit to the White Horse I could have put money on it becoming one of my firm favourites but, as I closed the door behind me, I couldn’t help but think I had backed something of an old nag.

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How the pub rates (out of five):

Decor: XX A mix of the old and the new. I liked the horse racing theme and felt at home sat in that gloomy part of the pub.

DRINK: XX Young’s Bitter and Bombardier are two fine ales, but other pumps were left redundant.

PRICE: XX £3 for a Bombardier is a reasonable price to pay.

ATMOSPHERE: XX It was quiet with people popping in for a post-work pint or two. Was glad to see the back of the chavvy element.

STAFF: XXX The chap who served me was pleasant and polite enough.