retiredmartin

February 2024. Charing Cross. London.

A couple of days overnight in the capital, a cultural Tuesday filled with sewage pumping, portraits of royalty, a venerable Chinese restaurant, and some theatre to come. Should do it more often, we thought, as we walked at dusk through the streets of London at dusk.

Like me, Mrs RM had spent many a long day’s slog round here over the years, and revelled in the post-work wind-down around Charing Cross and Embankment.

The Princess of Wales looked fantastic, as it had been that epic night before Lockdown 2.

Instead, I ask;

“Have you been to the Ship and Shovell ?“.

“Which one is it ?” she asks.

Well….that’s a complex question….

Ever since finishing the Guide, you know the one, I’ve had that irritating thought that I never really completed the GBG because I only did one half of the Ship & Shovell (the one on the right), and like Warden Norton in Shawshank I found I had restless nights with worry lest I’d be found out.

Pub Anoraks note : In Liverpool, and arguably Buxton, a small bar connected to the main pub has received separate Guide status, you know. Save that one for the pub quiz.

So I suggested we did the one on the left, though I didn’t mention the need for “closure”.

It’s gorgeous, perhaps less boisterous than across the road, but still not a seat to be had at 5:45 pm.

“You can take your beers over the road” says the nice barman.

Well. of course we do, and just as we walk in a lovely lady gets up to go and signals us to take her table. She’s well-oiled, and just off to see “Matilda“, so we compare notes on theatre and the joys of a night in London, though she’s not a GBG ticker.

It’s a lovely pub, a symphony in brown, with history for Stafford Paul to enjoy,

and a great mix of custom, though we can’t help noticing the absence of suits.

Perhaps this is “Monday dress”. Whatever, standing room only on Monday, drink it in.

I share my enthusiasm with Twitter;

Twitter reckons the pub is better than the beer, and Twitter is right. All 3 beers decently conditioned but dull (NBSS 3), and a quick survey reveals Guinness the winner here.

But Mrs RM isn’t going anywhere, and stays put with another half, until eventually the stares from outside at our finished glasses tell us it’s time to move on.

With nearly 3 hours of theatre at the Gillian Lynne to come I decide to skip further pubby joys of the West End,

though a crawl of McMullens pubs (now including the Lord Moon itself) sounds an idea.

A really, really, great day ends with the best night of theatre I’ve ever seen.

“Standing At The Sky’s Edge”, a story of Sheffield’s Park Hill estate set to Richard Hawley‘s music, is a masterpiece of song, drama and humour. Made me proud to be Northern it really did.