Part 3 of the Father & Son North London tickathon, as we began an hour long walk along the Grand Union towards Notting Hill.
Let me be straight; London is a wonderful city, only behind Manchester, Nuremburg, Havana and Naples on my list.
As we put Camden behind us we had the canal path to ourselves, and I at last had a walking companion of my own speed who I could annoy by stopping to admire the art and the Art Deco.
And then, just past the tigers of London Zoo, a deafening roar. Had City scored at Spurs.
No, a 4th Indian wicket had fallen at a hitherto silent Lords.
We pressed on, and I resisted the urged for a comfort break at the Bridge House as we approached Little Venice, as last time out the pint cost over a fiver !
Anyway, there’s plenty of parks with bushes in West London, isn’t there ? Isn’t there ?
You sort of already knew what the Walmer Castle was like, didn’t you ?
Prosecco out front,
well-groomed Dads watching the Spurs at the back of the bar.
Son had just scored; I hate being in a pub when City are on the box.
I spied a lone Pride pump, the charming barman urged me not to order it as it was probably off. I had a sample (sorry), and thought it was fine, certainly better than the non-crafty options.
Another chap thrust a contactless reader in front of me before I could say “How much ?”
“How much was that ?” I said.
Dear reader, you guess the cost of an OK pint of Pride. The sum of the 3 digits is 23. I didn’t buy James a half.
Anyway, would love to stay for another, but have to go. Mounds to tick.
And remember kids, just say NO. Generally.