I headed west, which isn’t a Jam song but sounds like something from that golden year of 1979 when Cambridge United finished level on points with Chelsea in Division II.
Chelsea is, appropriately enough after Sunday’s display, a bus park in the west of Fulham, my next target after Holborn.
But the GBG App told me to get off at West Brompton, home of the Oratory celebrated by Nick Cave.
No walk by the Thames then, and I did my usual trick of getting completely bewildered leaving the tube station and heading confidently the wrong way. Twice.
Suddenly Fulham/Chelsea/Brompton was heaving with what looked like extra from a Fratellis (yeah I know they’re Scottish) video shoot, and I suddenly feared the 6pm crowd was all headed to the Lillie Langtry.
Luckily they were going to London Wonderground, who were advertising “QUEENZ – The Show with BALLS! A night of gender-bending, life-affirming fun and frolics with a bunch of boys who dance like Britney and sing like Whitney! Book Now“
I liked this a lot, a homely and unpretentious gastro with loads of colour, and a barman who had time to talk to me. Again. This never happened in 209 !
I’ve only just noticed the rolling pins as hand pumps. Not sure those menus do the visuals any favours either.
I asked the origins of the Christmas hippo. Did he used to roll in the Stamford Bridge mud in the ’70s, perhaps ?
The eye roll suggests my feelings on Christmas tat in September are widely shared.