Panic ye not, I’m not doing a Ferry-esque dance over the Thames, merely a retiredmartin rush as the impact of that Volcano coffee suddenly means I need the loo.
Like Newcastle, London’s bridges are its real treasure.
If you look very closely you can probably see BRAPA and Colin about to upset someone in Southend.
I left Embankment to a very rare new Guide pub at Charing Cross, the technical (if not spiritual) heart of London.
As experienced pubgoers will know, 3 pints in 2 hours is about the time in a day when your head starts to wander, and wonder whether you ought to divert to the Ship & Shovell, to see whether the Badger is drinking well. But it’s recently lost it’s longstanding Guide place, so probably not.
Discipline ! Straight in the Princess of Wales.
Ain’t it lovely ? Rather understated for a Nicholsons joint, too.
The sign screams “£2 ALL PINTS !” but even that can’t tempt in the tourists, and the dozen or so drinkers are all lads in their 20s filling up on £2 Doom Bar before the pubs shut
What a terrible year for pubs 2020 has been. That we’ve been left with pubs serving a reduced range of Doom Bar, London Pride and a house beer from St Austell is small consolation, I guess. But it’s certainly seen quality maintained in these dark times.
My notes say I had a “small prude“, which is probably good description of me, and indicates I was only making one typo per word by then.
Anyway, for £2 you won’t get a much better pint of cool, foamy Pride (NBSS 3+), though to be honest that’s often damning with faint praise these days.
Polite young staff, obedient customers, a smaller Nicks making good use of space. Hard to fault. But of course it’s all the fault of pubs that Covid cases shot up when the students went back
Pint drained, lacings captured, I set off on the next stretch.
Grief, had it really got so hazy so quickly ?