retiredmartin

December 2023. Forest Gate. London.

The walk from the “Iron Maiden” pub on the edge of Stratford to the Holly Tree on the edge of Wanstead Flats was uneventful, and no-one wants that.

Row after row of neat East London terraces, with not a single micropub or cereal cafe to break the monotony.

Oh, what’s that ?

Oddly, despite living on a farm (of sorts) for the first 22 years of my life I hardly remember seeing a fox, but in Sheffield and London they’re everywhere.

This is your musical interlude, kids, from a time before barbers.

Actually, this is from 1975, the year Iron Maiden were formed, which makes you think.

Mr Fox just stared at me, blankly; people do that a lot. But I may have been distracted, as the only other thing I can tell you about Forest Gate is that Vera Lynn comes from here.

I know I stood facing the Holly Tree 4 years ago, just before heading off across the Wanstead Flats to the Golden Fleece, a corking boozer.

I was expecting something similar from the Holly Tree,

particularly with Spitfire on the bar, but instead you get a refined dining atmosphere of the sort you’d expect in Clapham.

I ask for a half, and get a pint (£5.80) of the Brew by Numbers stout,

and don’t regret it one bit as it’s a cool, chewy 3.5.

A pleasing pub, dark wood, lots of nooks and crannies to explore, and an after-work crowd discussing therapy and golf, but I’m not sure in what order.

“I can tell you for a……..FACT !” started one, but I left before I found out what that FACT was.

A pub for the Music Man (or Woman, sexist); Nina Simone and Dylan.

But the soundtrack was pure 1984.

Unexpectedly enjoyable, particularly if you can make here it for the 31st.

Just make sure that fox doesn’t follow you in.