On the upside, nabbing that title means BRAPA can’t use it. If he already has, I regret nothing.
On the downside, it raises expectations I’ve no chance of meeting. For goodness sake, it’s Ealing, not Ely !
I suppose the Nude coffee at South Ealing is titillating in its way* ?
Never mind, here’s a sexy book you should buy.
It accompanied me on the journey to West Ealing via King’s Cross and Paddington, where I somehow resisted the Fullers station bar (joking).
In 90 minutes travel I managed all of six pages**. I blame this pace on the laughing guy in my free video who would not stop talking about golf;
West Ealing. Quite a straight run to be fair.
Lacking the high jinks of Hanwell and the anarchy of Acton, Ealing survives by being competent. Competent turrets, espresso and Fullers.
As Si reminded me, Drayton Court looks a bit like a certain castle in Transylvania, the next big craft beer boom town in Romania.
It’s a vast rambling place, and it takes me five minutes to reach the bar (five seconds if you enter through the right door).
To the left is a function room with a circle of social workers, to the fright a bar dominated by a warning bell to be pressed as BRAPA approaches (only 3 days after my visit).
One lady hid by the fire,
and two smokers sneaking out from the office enjoyed the “spectacular” views from the garden, the best in Ealing.
Hands up who’s bored of canine beer ?
As greetings at the bar go,
“How’s Wednesday going for you ?” is up there with “areet boss ?”
He was chatty enough, and served a cool, dull half of Pride (NBSS 3) that would have had the visitor scampering back to “Coming Soon”.
A nervous lady popped in and tentatively asked about the possibility of getting a partial refund on the cost of some folk who had failed to turn up for the works Christmas party.
I enjoy this sort of impromptu pub theatre. The audience (me) are encouraged the shout the odds to the lady while she waits for the manager. “No chance love”, “Tenner at best” etc etc.
Just a reminder. Christmas parties are not a legal requirement. Avoiding them by retiring was the best decision I ever took.
Next. Brentford. And this lovely.
*I should really leave this stuff to Duncan.
**For context, Moby Dick took me 7 years to finish.