Like Brixton’s Windmill, Whitechapel’s George Tavern and Harrow’s Trinity, Islington’s Lark in the Park is the type of inconspicuous looking venue you have to make a specific effort to get to. A place you have to know about first.

Situated on Copenhagen Street between the plush residential surrounds of Barnsbury and the decidedly less salubrious Caledonian Road, Lark in the Park quietly goes about its own thing, a home for diverse rock and roll next to Barnard Park. Yes, it’s pretty dodgy at night and yes, you’d never leave your bike outside but this is a pub with its own charm, make no mistake.

“It’s not near a tube station,” says manager Sami Robinson, which is both a blessing and a curse. On one hand it doesn’t attract the riff-raff of passing trade, and on the other hand, it doesn’t attract the custom of passing trade. While the ‘cult’ status might have earned Lark in the Park a decent reputation, that could be a problem as the economy continues to dwindle and sink.

“Any venue owner who doesn’t own the freehold is going to struggle, as the recession sinks in,” says Robinson, who has been part of the furniture here since 2003. “It’s gonna be especially difficult for venues in the West End because they pay higher rates.”

Sad but true, but let’s not dwell on sad things. Lark in the Park is one of those venues that has lots of everything; signed and unsigned, local and international, loud and quiet. While mostly focused on indie, there are acoustic nights and punk nights, and occasionally nights of metal, which suits the dark and noirish interior, although it is one genre Robinson is less than enthused with… “We try not to do metal, although we have one promoter doing it. They don’t bring that many people.”

A visit to the Lark in the Park website will reveal the fact that the venue hosted a reunion between Pete Doherty and Carl Barat during one of those ‘secret gigs’ they occasionally do. But again Robinson, to his credit, was unenthused.

“That was the first thing I saw here when I took over, I didn’t like it. I went for a walk around the block. He wasn’t very good.”

Lark in the Park, like so many of these venues we visit, has an intriguing history that offers vague insights into London’s past. For example, Robinson explains that in years gone by the pub was split into two bars, “one was posh, one was not so posh – it was full of straw”. Bizarre class segregation? Here?

During these times it went by the name of The George or The George IV, before settling on the current name, a reference to the nearby expanse of green, a park surrounded by housing estates. This is another thing the venue has in common with the Windmill. Indeed, there are many similarities between the two especially in terms of the downbeat exterior and the retro feel to the inside. Not to mention the tiny stage. Lark in the Park may not have the programming and promotion nous of The Windmill just yet, but the potential is there to be North London’s very own version of the famous Brixton hub of cool.

One of Robinson’s most memorable (and infuriating) recollections was when one George Martin visited the venue when a professional photographer was on location to shoot a band. Said photographer didn’t recognise Martin and thus an opportunity for a pride-of-place portrait for the mantelpiece was lost. “I just didn’t know what to say,” groans Robinson.