Sunday 24 February 2013

Go to Jail

And so we reach another corner of the board and one of the most iconic of all the Monopoly squares, “Go to Jail”. Whilst some of the squares have caused problems when trying to think of a suitable place to visit, (Water Works springs to mind here), this one was a real no-brainer. Just consider any newsworthy criminal case and you’ll have an image of some news reporter standing outside of the Old Bailey whilst someone who’s just won their trial comes out arms aloft from the court rooms. Those who aren’t so fortunate and get to “go to jail” aren’t seen of course.

Setting the scene.

But before we describe the actual visit, a couple of bits of exciting beer and pub news:
When I started getting into the beer blogging scene one of the first people I came into contact with was a young chap by the name of Nathaniel Southwood. Now Nate, or NateDawg has been mentioned on this blog before but just as a word of explanation, I think most people in the beer blogging world know Nate. He’s certainly not shy in his opinions (I mean his twitter account has the descriptive line “Sublimely self-righteous arrogant bastard”) and he frequently uses Twitter and his blog to generally get sweary about beer. But all that said I’ve never actually met the person behind the swears. But as luck would have it, he informed me that he was down in London for a craft beer festival and asked if it would be possible for him to join the tour. Seeing as the only criteria I have for coming on the tour is that you at least try beer this also was a no-brainer.
I do have to mention that when I told the rest of the tour that Nate was coming along they split into two camps; one being one that were convinced that I was on some sort of internet blind date and was possibly on a promise. The other being that Nate would turn out to be a stalking internet cannibal type and we’d all end up with various bits of us being boiled in a cauldron. I guess only time would tell!
The other bit of news was that when organising this week’s tour I’d planned to end up at the Viaduct Tavern on Newgate Street and further reading about this pub revealed that it was built near to the site of the old Newgate Jail (which is where the Old Bailey now stands) and in their cellars were actual original holding cells. And further good news told me that the pub was pleased to show the cells to interested visitors. I got in touch with the pub and exchanged emails which a nice lady called Carina who said it would be no trouble to show us the cells.
Still from the "Murder on the Victorian Railway" program. The Viaduct Tavern is on the left.
 
Then in a twist of coincidence I was watching a BBC2 program this week called Murder on the Victorian Railway, all about the very first murderon the railways lines. The program started and finished with an old Victorian photo of Newgate prison and there in the corner one can see the very same Viaduct Tavern. Add to this I’d also quite innocently said in passing to Gemma that she should encourage the girls to all wear stripes (like a cartoon burglar – not like a tiger or something) and later found out that they were actually going to do so. (See, you can’t trust these women who keep a box of fancy dress odds and ends in the office.) So just to make sure I wasn’t caught out I bought myself a mask and a stripy shirt of my own. The mask cost £6.50! Seriously, the shop owner should have put it on when he rang it through the till!
So onto the tour, which was off to a slow start as once again we were left waiting for the tarting up of both the ladies and Spiky Haired Ed leaving the BGC beeping his mental car horn in the foyer of the offices. I should take a quick moment to do a roll call before going any further; regulars Aussie Pete, Charlie, Buddy Rob and the aforementioned Ed were all aboard and making a welcome third appearance was Gemmaration Game and a second appearance for Jackanory Nicole. But there were three new caps as Gemma’s recruiting drive had once again worked wonders, signing up Carole, Lucie and Isabelle. (Seriously, I’ve had it with the stupid nicknames – When I introduced NateDawg someone actually asked me what his nickname was going to be. Yeah, hello, NateDawg, it’s in the name yeah?)
Anyway with NateDawg already trying to ring me we were finally on course with a short tube ride to Blackfriars and a walk past one of our earlier victories the Blackfriar pub. On this occasion though we were going a little further down Queen Victoria Street and taking a sharp left hand turn into St Andrew’s Hill and the first pub of the evening, the very curiously named Shaws Booksellers. The name apparently comes from the Merchant-Ivory adaption of 'The Wings of the Dove' where the pub was dressed as a booksellers………………yeah, I’m no wiser as well!
Outside Shaws Booksellers - Still don't know what that's all about.
 
As we’ve come to expect on most evenings now, the place was rammed full and claiming a free space to stand for the 10 of us was not easy. What was easier though was getting served especially as the order was pretty easy, 7 pints of London Pride (yep, the girls had upgraded to pints) which meant there was only Buddy Rob on his second choice of Peroni, Spiky Haired Ed on a less well known Czech larger, Litovel and Lucie on the cider. I did make an effort to ask the barmaid about the Cask Marque certificate but again it was one of those moments where I was speaking one language and barmaid just wasn’t listening.
Meeting of two great beer minds - I'm on the right!
 
I then got back in touch with Nate and discovered that he was in the pub next door, not that it took him long to finally find us and join Ed on the Litovel. Swift introductions were made and I think the group’s fears were generally put at ease and none of us would be waking up in a ditch minus our livers. Nate actually turned out to be quite a softly spoken mild mannered chap with no sign of his ranting twitter persona although there were a couple of whispered swears placed into the conversation.
Deciding not to linger at Shaw’s Booksellers we took the quick walk up Creed Lane and crossed Ludgate Hill (look right for a great view of St Paul’s Cathedral) to the second pub of the night, the Taylor Walker owned Ye Olde London.
This time the ladies secured a couple of tables by the windows whilst I, ably assisted by Nate put in the order from the rather harassed and overworked barman, struggling to keep things running all on his own. The order was quite simple again though, 7 pints of Woodfordes Wherry (more on that later) Lucie swapped with Isabelle on the cider role, Nate had a very cold pint of Guinness, Rob got his bottle of Bud and Ed had a pint of something yellow.
I was quite happy with the Woodfordes Wherry, not a drink you see that often (although quite often in Taylor Walker places) but it wasn’t going down at all well with the girls. Watery was the most heard complaint and Nate backed up this feeling by explaining how this was the beer he cut his ale drinking teeth on, but one he has now happily left behind. Rob and Ed had escaped to the downstairs bar where there was not only a pool table but also the Cask Marque certificate, meaning all us scanners had to go down to scan but then rush back up to get a signal to register the scan. Still it worked and Nate managed to break his Cask Finder duck.
Leaving Ye Olde London - I told Nicole her coat would clash with the pub but whould she listen.....
 
Leaving the pub after the mandatory photos, it was the very next right turn into Old Bailey itself and after walking up the street past the Central Criminal Court I pointed out the church of St Sepulchre which according to the BBC2 program was where the public gallows were. And did you know that in the children’s nursery rhyme when the “bells of Old Bailey” are mentioned – It is these church bells they’re referring to. And there opposite the church was our final port of call the Viaduct Tavern.
The lovely Carina - organiser of all amazing pub things.
 
My book of “London’s Best Pubs” describes the Viaduct as having a ceiling of “ornate lincrusta” which is a mix of pressed paper and linseed oil, a fact I explained to Charlie but I don’t think he believed me. Anyway, whatever the ceiling is made from it’s certain a lovely pub and one that it’s good to see is flourishing in the hands of Fullers. It was pints of Seafarers all around and I was delighted to learn that the barmaid serving me was none other than the very Carina who I’d been emailing with. So this is the first pub where the tour had been welcomed and recognised, but more importantly she told us that there’d been a chap along shortly to show us around the cells.

Charlie and Nicole share a joke at my expense whilst the lincrusta ceiling goes unnoticed.

Whilst all this was going on, the rest of the scanners were desperately trying to scan the certificate which they’d found on the bar of the bar hatch. Thing was, this was an expired certificate and therefore wouldn’t scan. After several attempts at scanning Nate decided that perhaps it might be time to call it a day and who could blame him after drinking all day at the beer festival and then having to put up with us lot.
Sadly this meant he missed the tour of the cells which was next on the agenda. The bar chappy split us into two groups so firstly it was the blokes who descended the steep cellar steps into the basement. Obviously this is a working pub so it’s pretty understandable that the pub is using the cells as storage but there is one cell still with the ironwork in place, splitting the cell into the separate chambers for each prisoner. Although very interesting and quite a privilege to see such a thing, grim is about the most appropriate word for it. Us chaps then retired back to the bar (for a sneaky round) whilst the girls took their tour in the cells.
Dodgey character found lurking in the cells.
 
The evening then turned rather odd as the beers started to make their present felt. Firstly there were all sorts of fun and games with the mask as it was passed around. I never knew Charlie had such amateur dramatic tendencies as he put on a very convincing act of trying to pick Gemma’s handbag.
 
 
 
Oh the fun you can have with £6.50
 
Lucie seemed determined to find food of some sort and the offer of crisps and nuts from the bar didn’t seem to be hitting the right notes. I tried to cheer her up with some schoolboy French but apparently being able to ask when the tourist information centre is, is no substitute for hunger so it was probably just as well that Isabelle interrupted proceedings with a shriek as she spotted her daughter in the pub.
The evening then for a moment became a very strange version of “This is your life” as various friends of her daughters were wheeled in to meet us all – “And here, you’ve never met him in your life before is Greg who used to be at uni with your daughter’s boyfriend! He used to study economics but dropped out and is now running a pet shop and you’ve never seen him ever ever ever, it’s Ben the pet shop man!”
There was also a very strange moment where I seemed to be encouraging Carole to tell me to “Feck Off!” in a rather abusive manner. In fact the more abusive, the more I seemed to enjoy it. Whether this says more about me or more about Carole’s willingness to curse and swear I’m really not sure – Perhaps I should introduce her to Nate – Oh I already did, didn’t I.

Poor Rob! And Gemma, if your looking for Ed's manly chest.....it was stolen by that bloke in the mask.

Finally I remember the end of the evening finished (honestly it seemed to go on forever this time and the kitty never seemed to get any smaller – it was one of the cheapest nights on the tour) with me adopting another scarf, black this time, and there is photographic proof of this, but I also remember Ed chasing after me after I left and retrieving something. The scarf never made it home anyway – I did though, just, but it was touch and go especially when I thought travelling masked on the tube might be a laugh………on my own. I’m a sad little man.
Number of Cask Marque Pubs visited  = 156
Best night so far? = Oh it’s got to be up there with them. Worth it for the mask pictures alone.
Hangover? = Do you know what, none at all! It must have been the coffee and fruit cake from Tutti Frutti in Reading station. They got to see the mask as well!
Next Stop = Regent Street

Saturday 16 February 2013

Piccadilly

How is it that you can use the name Piccadilly in a sentence and not at all be tempted to prefix it with a “the” and yet Strand, on the other hand, still doesn’t sound quite right without one?

Look, no "the" again.

Sorry, bit of a random way to start but there you go.

We were hampered this week on available days out as the card manufactures’ favourite day of the year, Valentine’s Day, fell on the Thursday, which has proved to be one of the more favoured touring nights. So instead, and a rather hurried fashion, we planned a nice easy Wednesday night visit. This did results in catching a few of the regular tourists unawares, meaning only Ed, Charlie and the BGC being present. Still, three guys for three pubs had a certain fitting ring to it.

Mind you I was feeling less than prepared for the visit as the night before I had decided it was about time the good old brown suit was resurrected from the depths of the wardrobe and taken for an airing. A brave decision as one of Charlie’s mantras is “No Brown in Town” and I can only presume he’s talking about clothes and not some sort of dirty protest type thing. Anyway the suit was fine but could I find my faithful old brown shoes? Could I heck as like! And it didn’t seem to matter how much I tantrummed, throwing the whole family’s shoes out of the shoe basket, I just could find them. The tantrum must have been quite effective though as lovely wifey told me to go and watch tele whilst she herself had a look. 

Not that she was any more successful that me I might add as she told me that wearing my black shoes with the brown suit would be ok. Now this was rather surprising coming from the woman who used to refuse to leave the house with me if my belt was a different colour than the trousers but I didn’t really have much choice and consequently spent the day believing everyone was pointing and whispering behind my back. (More than they do normally) 
 
The King's Head

Luckily it was dark by the time the three amigos emerged from the same Piccadilly Circus tube exit as we’d done a couple of weeks ago for Coventry Street. This time however we turned in the opposite direction, strolling past Eros (read the link – it’s not Eros at all!) and down Piccadilly itself. The first pub, the King’sHead, was but 5 minutes away down a quick right hand turning into Stafford Street. This is another Nicholson’s pub and actually quite a large one, occupying a corner plot. There’s an upstairs bar and a cellar bar but we went into the main bar area which was busy, but not busy enough that we didn’t get a table at the first time of trying. Two pints of Woodforde's Norfolk Gold got Charlie and me on the way, whilst Ed went with a Kozel. 

After correcting me on my pronunciation of Kozel, the friendly beardy barman was happy enough to fetch us the Cask Marque certificate from where it was propped behind the bar and we all managed to get the first scan in. And then it was on to the main subject of the evening, very appropriately for Valentine’s week, Spiky Haired Ed’s love life. 

Now before you all cry foul and claim that we shouldn’t pick on the young lad, this is the man who on the tube journey tonight claimed “I don’t think I could love anyone as much as I love myself” much to the amusement of the young girl sat behind him. So actually he’s fair game and deserves everything he got. And once Charlie got started, boy did he get it……no, not in that way! (You and your filthy mind!) 
 
King's Head on the left, Goat on the right.

The walk to the next pub was the shortest I think we’ve had on the tour. Directly opposite the King’s Head is the Goat, which isn’t a corner plot and therefore a much more cramped affair. This Taylor Walker pub was jam packed full which meant that the poor single barmaid was rushed off her feet. Now I pride myself on being a professional queuer so I was incensed when two speccy lawyer looking blokes definitely pushed in front of me. Fortunately any disagreement was avoided when another barman magically appeared and took my order of two pints of Adnams Broadside for Charlie and me whilst Ed stuck with the foreign lager, this time a correct pronounced Estrella. 
 
A smiling Charlie and the back of Ed. Ed is probably weeping at this point.

Like the King’s Head there was an upstairs bar at the Goat so we were able to escape the worst of the crush around the bar and drink our pints in relative comfort. But this meant we only had a fleeting glimpse of the bar area and could not spot the certificate anywhere and as I say, with only a skeleton staff on there wasn’t anyone to ask. So we’ll have to throw ourselves on Trevor’s good nature this week and hope he got a Valentine’s Day card to put him in a good mood. 

It was a quick walk around the block onto Dover Street and the third and final pub, the Clarence, our second Nicholson’s emporium of the evening. As seasoned visitors to Nicholson’s now this place was a striking change from their normal etched glass and dark panelling, being cool white tiles and steel glass holders. They even have a beer library! They also had the certificate pinned up in a not so cool way right by the hatch to the bar. They were more than happy to let us scan but even admitted as we trooped up, “we must find a better place for that”. 
 
Casks, but alas not ready.

What was also different, and a very nice surprise was the racked casks directly behind the bar, unfortunately though all four weren’t ready for serving and we had to make do with the 5 or 6 ales on handpump; first choice being an Ossian by the InveralmondBrewery. I think Charlie continued to follow my lead on this whilst Ed went for a Veltins Pilsner. 

It was then time to discuss the other hot topics of the week (Ed’s love life being tepid at the most) which were; The horse meat scandal – all in agreement that if you’re stupid enough to buy cheepo ready meal type stuff then you deserve what you get. In fact you probably deserve to eat rancid rat instead of nice healthy horse but that’s perhaps a debate for another day. Gay marriage – which developed into a discussion on religion which strangely Ed brought to a quick close saying it wasn’t a suitable subject for the pub? This hour or so of intellectual mind bending was aided by a second pint; mine was a Dark Island by Orkney Brewery, not sure about the others now, and a bowl of pistachio nuts, the shells of which ended up all over my coat. 
 
The sizable keg selection at the Clarence.

Realising I’d missed the early of the later trains we just had time for a final half (I went onto the Veltins now) before scurrying back to our respective rat holes. 

And normally this is where the blog would end but this week there’s an interesting post script. When I finally staggered into the house, lovely wifey is still waiting up, not normal. “I’ve a present for you darling…..” Oh yes, I suspiciously ask, “Is it an early Valentine’s gift?”  

But it wasn’t, it was shoe-boxed sized and delicately wrapped in gift paper. “It’s bloody brown shoes isn’t it” I claim as even my mind isn’t that sozzled at this point. “Yes” admits the lovely one “It was me who threw away your old ones……….”
 
So there you have it, more proof of the deviousness of the fairer sex, acts out like MerylStreep that she searching for the shoes the night before when all along she knows what’s really happened and that there’s no chance of finding them! But hey, who cares, she's gorgeous, she's mine, and I have new brown brogues! Happy Valentine’s Day! 
 
The shoes that say "I love you"!
 

Number of Cask Marque Pubs visited  = 155

Love tips for Ed = Edward! Everyone knows who you’re currently seeing, so just tell people and then you can finally say “hi” to her when you meet in the lifts! 

Love tips for BGC = Don’t need any, I’ve struck gold. 

Next Stop =Go to Jail

Tuesday 5 February 2013

Water Works

Do you ever get that feeling that no matter how much effort you put into things for other people you'd have better spent your time smashing your noggin against a cast iron blacksmith's anvil? Well that's how I feel after trying for what feels like a hell of a lot  more than two weeks in trying to organise an outing to the Water Works.
 
My original plan was very simple, Google "London Water Works" and see what was brought up. The solution was also very simple. Around the southern end of London Bridge was the location of the London Bridge Water Works which used to sanitise the water for the people of that area. So, as Alexander would say, simples, find a couple of pubs in that environ and away we go.
 
Looking up Montague Close to Tooley Street - As far as I can make out, the location of the London Bridge Water Works
 
But oh no, my misguided efforts at bringing the tour to the great unwashed had backfired as there were demands for more and more spectacular evening entertainments. You'd have though that a night out at the comedy pub would be enough for this choosy crew, but oh no, I was challenged to up the ante and bring on something more.
 
I thought I'd solved this thorny issue by managing to locate a night club cum jazz club cum cabaret bar called the "Cellar Door" just off Strand in Aldwych. This rather unique emporium has been built in a disused gent's lavatory and working very laterally with the words "water works" I thought that this would be acceptable suggestion for the evening out. At first it all looked rather hopeful, especially as the female contingent of the tour actually seemed quite enthusiastic about an evening out that would comprise of something more than old man's pubs. However as the realisation that an evening at the Cellar Door would going to prove a bit pricey (after 21:00 there's a 20% service charge on all drinks!) the enthusiasms started to wane. I'll give you an example.......... 
 
I mailed everyone, laying out the details of the Cellar Door, including links to their site, the menu and details of the cabaret. I even phoned the place to ascertain whether we needed to buy advance tickets and what time we should turn up to guarantee entry. And just how many responses did I get back? Well, I'll tell you........1! Yep, that's it, 1 single measly reply. Well actually I got back two replies, but that was only because I emailed Nicolas in Argentina by mistake, but at least he got back to me! (He couldn't make it unfortunately.) 
 
So whilst I thank Gemma for having the decency to reply, (even if it was a refusal to attend), it looked like the Cellar Door was a no-go. Falling back to plan B (and I'll be truthful to admit that it was Bumble Bee who put me onto this) the idea of going to a place called Club Aquarium on Old Street was muted around. I checked out the website and found that whilst it was true that it did have a fully functioning swimming pool in the club (the only one in the UK apparently!) but boy did it look a dodgy old place. The sort of place I used to go in 30 odd years ago and hate every minute of the experience, I'd be buggered if I was going to organise a tour there!
 
So to cut a long story short, and yes I know I haven't cut anything short, it was now two weeks on from the last tour and we still hadn't got anything organised for Water Works. 
 
So talk about the last port in a storm, the very original tour regular and everyone's favourite chiselled jawed lothario, Spikey Haired Ed suggested that just we two go to the original pubs on a non-favoured tour night and get it over and done with. Well, do you know what, after a heavy day of a single 7 hour meeting it seemed like the perfect thing to do. So rolling back the months, this blog's very own odd couple walked the pleasant 1/2 mile from Tower Bridge to London Bridge and took in three Cask Marque pubs. 
The fantastic figurehead outside the Shipwrights Arms
 
The first was The Shipwrights Arms on Tooley Street, which although quite inconspicuous has quite a history being built back in 1884 by the famous pub builders Treacher and Fisher. It's certainly kept its rather old fashioned charm being of classic island bar layout with some fantastic tiled detailing around the walls. The layout was so familiar in fact I wondered if I'd been in the pub already before I realised that the pub I was getting it mixed up with was the Bridge Lounge which is further south along Tooley Street where I'd taken the team to spend their free Cask Ale Week vouchers. But seriously, check it out, the layouts are almost identical. 
Inside the Shipwrights
 
Anyway pints of Caledonian Flying Scotsman and Sagres were ordered by the gruesome twosome and we retired to a little table by the door to discuss all that was wrong with the world and in the process gained the scan of the Cask Marque certificate which was pinned to the wall. 
 
Wall tiles inside the Shipwrights
 
Moving on further west along Tooley Street, avoiding all the road works which seem only designed to put your life at risk, we came to London Bridge and the sizable Fuller's emporium The Barrowboy and Banker which is perched right at the south end of the bridge. It's an impressive looking place, and like all of the Fuller's estate, full of shiny brass and gleaming wood. Unfortunately it was also full of people, many of whom seemed to be slightly worse for wear. The queue for the bar was two deep and although I can't complain that I waited an age for our pints of Chiswick bitter and Honey Dew (again no prizes for guessing who was drinking what) it was not what I call a comfortable pub experience. We moved back around the bar, trying to spot the certificate as we avoided the flying elbows of the crowd seemingly intent on trying to spill as much of your drink as possible, but drew a disappointing blank as it wasn’t visible to any degree. A quick side note here is that Aussie Pete and I had previously visited this pub on a balmy summer's day long before the Monopoly Tour had ever been thought of and we asked about the certificate on that occasion as well. I seem to remember the response from the bar staff was something along the lines of "oh, it's in the post" or "we're waiting for the new one" - well the proof in the pudding seems to be that they're still waiting! 
Barrowboy & Banker - Postman is just round the corner.
 
Scrambling down the stair at the side of the bridge into Montague Close we came across the final pub of the evening, the Mudlark. Named for the impoverished children who used to scavenge for scraps amongst the muddy banks of the Thames I was, for some reason, not holding up much hope for this place. Don't quite know why but it turned out to be one of those surprisingly delightful places that confound your presuppositions.
 
The Mudlark
 
Firstly it was at exactly the right sort of busyness. All the tables were full, there was a hubbub of conversation but there was no queue for the bar and no masses of standing people spoiling the view and getting in my way. Secondly, I've noted that the Nicholson's bars can (hence I say "can", not "always") seem to have a limited range of beers with the same old favourites appearing again and again. Well perhaps I was visiting on the beginning of a new rotation but there was a nice selection here with a couple of new ones on me (Trawlerboys Best Bitter & Sambooks Junction ) sitting alongside the more regulars (Adnams Lighthouse & Jaipur) and the permanents (Nicholson's Pale Ale & London Pride) - I ordered a pint of Trawlerboys from Green Jack brewery whilst Ed went for a Blue Moon. What was nice here was that the two barmen on duty split the tasks, one pouring the ale whilst the other got on with the Blue Moon, which made for quicker service and avoided that feeling you get where you feeling like you're putting the bar staff out by just being there.
 
The range of beers at the Mudlark.
 
Ed also rang back the memory bells by unceremoniously dumping his segment of orange out of his Blue Moon - ah that's right, you don't mix food and drink do you Ed! Memories of The Doggets Coat and Badge! Oh how the time flies. 
 
And unfortunately "time flies" was the black cloaked grim reaper on our evening out. I think we both could have stayed for 2 or 3 more, certainly I wasn't getting bored with Ed getting absolutely everything off his small sunken pigeon chest but alas the train was calling and whilst it was nice to be back out on a less regular tour night, the looming spectre of getting up in the morning was ever present. But still it was a nice way to get the tour back on track. It finally put the bloody water Works to bed and means we can get back on track with the streets again.  
 
Yeah, that’ll teach them to get all lardy-da with my tour! 
 
Number of Cask Marque Pubs visited  = 153
 
Learn anything new about Ed? = No, but learnt some stuff I really didn’t need to know.
 
And who’s top of the accompaniment leader board now BGC? = Well, wouldn’t you like to know!
 
Next Stop =Piccadilly