For those of you wondering about a report on the pub crawl with Roger Protz, all I can say is that I hope to have it done before Manchester United goal difference returns to a positive. Better off reading Richard’s report and squinting at the photos of me.
After Donny I was off to Paddington, which is probably twinned with Doncaster in an alternative universe drawn by Stan Lee (thanks for the memories, Stan).
Simon has been here already this GBG season, but this was my first trip to the oddly defined area of Little Venice for a decade or more.
My excitement was a bit misplaced.
It’s just a posh bit of W1 with
mums nannies pushing £750 pushchairs away from a school called Little Sweethearts. I kid you not.
The canal is a bit of a letdown if you’ve ever been to the real Venice (the one in Birmingham).
But you have to remember that Londoners have never seen the treasures of the north, and are easily excited by a sliver of water or a small bump in the ground.
The excitement peaked with the news of the return of the local pub cat.
I vaguely remember the cat disappearing when Simon visited the month before; sensible cat.
I presume folk also get animated by the sight of a handpump or two in an unlikely looking theatre bar.
As that’s the only reason I can give for pubs like the Bridge House making the Guide.
How did it disappoint me ? Let me count the ways.
For starters, what sort of pub sign is that ?
Next, where do I start with the green sofa and frilly cushions ?
On the bar there’s the obligatory London tip box, and the pretence of Bass on handpumps selling Purity and Doom Bar.
Not going well, is it ?
The Tim Taylor (£5.10 a pint, of course) was served in a way that was bored, rather than disinterested. I suspect I was the only customer that afternoon.
Light jazz accompanied my solo sipping of a dead half of Landlord, the first warm beer of Winter. Not quite bad enough to take back, sadly (NBSS 2).
Here’s a Black & White shot to make it look interesting.
But the Bass mirrors, probably produced by the million in a factory in Gdansk, were a redeeming feature.
Phew. Bet you thought I was going soft on London, didn’t you ?
It gets better. A bit.