Well, two views of my 2017 North Woolwich special today, probably from American Samoa and China.


North Woolwich is the weird detached bit of South East London by the Royal Docks that was swapped for a barrel of Truman’s Best in the 1800s. Sure I read that on Deserter.

Proper borders
Nicked off Deserter

Deserter can’t tell this, but I’ve nearly finished their marvellous book, after reading whole chapters (4 pages) each day in the sun this week. If I finish it by 8pm you can stand outside and clap me.

Look on their site for the definitive guide to the N.Wool, as kidz call it, but the aerial view is the best.


Bit of greenery overlooking the Thames, a ferry and foot tunnel to the (Dirty) South,


and hardly any pubs.


Best known for the dead Royal Oak, whose Truman’s tiling causes beer twitter to go “phwoar” at regular intervals.



The other highlight, possibly also responsible for a “phwoar” and the regular blog views, is the Gentleman’s Club (not to be confused with the Gents, Si) at the Royal Standard.

The only known review includes the immortal line,

She smiled enigmatically in a knowing way at the mention of a handpump


I wrote “It sounds fantastic (it doesn’t really), and I urged Mrs RM to become the first lady to go in and ask for a pint of Smooth. But she resisted. Something about net curtains.”


It’s worth checking WhatPub to see what takeout services might be available, I guess.

Dick and Dave are men of the world, but I’ve no doubt they’d press on to the East End authenticity of the Henley Arms, marked by the tallest pub sign in London.

In 2016 I found average Bass and ‘appy’ ‘ammers.

“The pub though, was fantastic. Old boys talking about calamities in Benidorm, extraordinary coincidences at the 1980 FA Cup Semi-Final Replay, and a lot of that word that sounds like “fracking”. The 1980 Final programme is just visible behind the bar.”

Bass had been abandoned before the lockdown, perhaps wisely, but hopefully the pub will survive.


NB Mrs RM flew from London City Airport last year and did the Trumans craft bar. I believe she’s still paying back the loan.


  1. The only time I flew from London City there was a bar there stocking Meantime (whatever happened to them?) and Brew Dog.

    Shortest transit time ever, on the the return flight. Just 10 minutes from getting off the plane, through passport control and baggage collection, and we were stepping onto the Docklands Light Railway. Amazing!

    Sadly no more direct flights to Nuremberg, as Jeff Bell has already reported.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Living in East London, City is the only one around London that is convenient for me and in my experience it is more civilised than going to St Pancras for Eurostar. It can also be quicker going via Schiphol for a long distance flight than slogging nearly as far as Slough in the west to get to that dreadful Heathrow. The real problem with Eurostar is that they seem to have taken all the things that people dislike about air travel and incorporated them in a train. But certainly, once on the Mainland, I would prefer to take a train.

    Liked by 2 people

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