Slight problem as my earliest extensive notes, somewhat akin to Pepys but with more typos, have just been overwritten by my sitting on my phone and now look like this;
A third South-West London tick in an hour, as I take the Northern Line from Clapham Common to the Oval,
and then a hop through the back streets of Lambeth/Kennington/whatever-it’s-called to the Fentiman.
Some nice tiling for you,
and some streets that simultaneously seem gentrified but Proper London.
At 56, I still get a visceral thrill crossing a road to a new pub while taking a surreptitious photo.
Back street London pubs are gorgeous, aren’t they ?
The Fentiman, named after the ginger beer drinks company, WAS pretty busy, a good dozen “ladies who lunch” and “lads who lager” spread out inside and out.
I don’t know about you, but this is my idea of an adventurous beer range;
It took ages to get served as the poor staff were split between fetching salt and pepper squid, collecting Peroni glasses and finding the WiFi code, all more important than serving me a half of Youngs Ordinary (I know, I know).
It was cool, and unmistakeably Youngs (NBSS 3), and I could happily drink it all day while you lot moan about authenticity and the ghost of John Young.
Sadly, the destruction of my notes means I can’t tell you what the music playing was, so let’s guess it was Kangaroo Air Force Ventilator. It normally is.
Three pubs down; can I squeeze in a fourth in two hours ?
Let’s head for the river.
Good grief, where did all these tall buildings come from ?