Intermission

Perhaps we were all a bit too jaded from last week. Perhaps it was the fact that we weren’t getting paid until the middle of this week. Perhaps the boys are just getting sick of me, but whatever the reason I just couldn’t raise a single man-jack of them to go out this week. Aussie Pete quoted a poorly tummy (Awwwwe poor Petey. Mummy rub his little tummy better? Take some nasty medicine for the poorly tum-tum. Where’s the smile for Mummy’s brave Petey? Where’s the smile? There it is! There it is!) and Spikey haired Ed had gone on holiday without a by your leave or an invitation.

But, the boys had also expressed a wish that the next street, Bow Street was one they really wanted to do as its proximity to Covent Garden dangled the carrot of enticement of some superb pubs, so to do this square single-handed would be as welcome as the proverbial fart in a crash helmet (or something like that).

So what was a lonely boy to do? And then it hit me, inspiration of the highest order, I’d use this week to re-tread some steps and re-visit a couple of places I needed to go back to. First on the list was the Masons Arms which I’d previously covered in Electric Company. As regular readers will know I’d sent an email off to Fuller’s about my visit and to cut a long story short it had culminated in a very nice phone call from the Masons manager, Matt, and a £20 voucher to come and visit again. So I did!

Firstly I took Matt’s advice that he’d given on the phone and to take the over-ground train from Victoria to Battersea Park rather than do what I did last time and walk the ½ mile or so along the Thames from Vauxhall to Battersea. He did say the pub was directly outside the train station and he couldn’t have been more right as a quick jog across the road and I was back in the Masons again.

I slipped in not quite knowing whether I’d get a welcome or not only to be greeted by a friendly, bearded and handsome face. Would it be possible to nip to the look before I order I asked, “yeah, no probs” came the reply in a strikingly familiar antipodean accent. This must be Matt, I though as I had a wee to the soundtrack of one of Billy Connolly’s concerts (it’s true, go there and visit the loos, it’s true I tell you!) Re-emerging to the bar I asked the friendly face if he was indeed Matt? No, he wasn’t, he was Sam and Matt was out on business but Sam knew who I was! “Oh yeah, Matt said you might be in, how’s the Monopoly Tour going?” he asked. This was like being famous but without the paparazzi and the constant fear of violence, but almost just as thrilling.

I ordered a steak (no chips – paleo is still king at the moment) and a pint of Fuller’s Wild River. Now I’d had this beer before in the Doric Arch and had only scored it a 3 on untappd, but Sam not only served it splendidly but he also filled me in the history of how Fuller’s came to brew an American IPA. It was perfect. I had no choice. I had to score it a 5, my first ever.

The steak was similarly splendid and the service was as brilliant as it had been the first time round. I suppose I better get the scan whilst I’m here I asked Sam as he brought the steak over. “Yeppers (he didn’t really say yeppers, but in my mind he did) certificate is over by the door.” And there it was. Scan in the bag and nothing more for me to do than to quickly swill down a pint of London Pride (top notch condition) profusely thank Sam and nip across the road again for the next train back to Victoria.

As I took a photo of the power station from the train (someone was flying an angry birds pig balloon in front of it) I was just left wondering whether the pub was actually worth complaining about first time round or am I just a miserable git who’s never happy?

Can you see the green pig floating in front of the power station?

 

But that feeling didn’t last for long, especially on the tube to Kings Cross as I had that lovely feeling of being just that little bit squiffy whilst all around me were still hustling home from work. Quick as a flash I was back in front of Platform 9 ¾ (yes, still just adults taking the photos) and up the stairs to Fuller’s newly opened Parcel Yard. Again regular reader will remember I visited this pub during the Pentonville Road visit but the Cask Marque certificate wasn’t available.

First thing that struck me was that the pub was extremely busy but also it was hosting the Cask Report 2012, the annual report into how Cask Beer is faring in the wider world of the drinks markets. Unfortunately although I could peer into the private room where they were holding the report I couldn’t see anyone famous in the world of beer, although a lady with a name badge did hold the door to the toilets open for me…………….

Service was still lightening quick at the bar and one lovely pint of Fuller’s Autumn Ale, Red Fox later I had the scan in the bag (certificate at the end of the bar) and could scurry my way back to Paddington.

There was one more story to tell; as I was on the Circle Line a chap got on at Euston Square and was taking photos of himself with his mobile phone. Thinking he was a tourist trying to capture a picture of “here’s me on the underground”. I tapped him on the shoulder to ask if he’d like me to take his picture. He was more than happy to pose but then turned the camera around and took a photo of both me and him. He then took various shots around the carriage, especially of sleeping people.

Turns out he was a Brazilian artist called Helio Teles (you can find his website here) and I introduced myself in return only for another chap in the carriage to comment “ho ho, I wish I was rich too” and before you knew it there were about 6 of us exchanging smiles and comments. “Shhhh everyone” I said, “don’t you know you’re not allowed to speak on the Tube!”

It was a fitting end to possibly the friendliest night out on the Monopoly Tour – I must leave the boys behind more often!

Marylebone Station

I ended the last missive wondering if my Cask Marque Ale Trail score would be 64 or 65. Well I’m delighted to tell you that at the start of tonight’s episode it was in fact 66! A quick old email to info@cask-marque.co.uk got the Harp, which I was unable to scan in last week’s visit, and another pub local to me (not displaying the certificate! Tut Tut!) added to the grand total. So again it’s big massive Top Hats off to Cask Marque.

I had presumed that tonight’s visit would be a low key affair as Marylebone station is quite a way away from the stomping ground we’ve been stomping around lately. But lo and behold the lure of another evening in the company of the BGC proved far too tempting for many of the Monopoly Tour regulars, and it was with the very encouraging entourage of 5 (Charlie, Buddy Rob, Aussie Pete, New Guy Mickey and No Nickname Michael) that we travelled the joys of the Bakerloo line up to Marylebone Tube Station. For our female readers, Spikey haired Ed was in a miff and refused to come along…………..he’ll be back next week, sleep easy ladies, sleep easy.

Propping up the post - or the post is propping me up.

As always I’d planned out the pubs and there were three Cask Marque emporiums to be found in the vicinity of the station, running almost in a direct line running east to west from the station.

The first stop was Allsop Arms in Gloucester Place which was a short walk turning left out of the station. This is a Greene King pub and felt like a small village hostelry tucked away from the noise and clamour of central London. 5 pints of London Gold and 1 bottle on Bud later we realised we were once again sitting under the loud speaker and sure enough as soon as it turned ½ 6 the landlord must have decided that it was evening time and on came the music again. In slight relief we recognised that he was playing what seemed to be an 80’s mix tape but again we were driven away early into the evening to find the next and hopefully quieter place.

Allsop Arms - Buddy Rob checks the beer range before entering.

But before our departure we’d easily located the Cask Marque certificate displayed on a column next to the bar but once again I and my useless phone had to do the merry old dance of trying to find a good enough connection after scanning the certificate. Aussie Pete came to the rescue in a rather geeky but good way by “tethering” my phone to his which was then acting as an access point………………………yeah right. All very sad and boring but it did allow me to get the scan and did allow all the others to make various hilarious jokes along the lines of “oooo so you two are going to be tethered all night are you?” – It was like a really crap Larry Grayson had come back to haunt us.

Anyway, escaping the every increasing noise of the Allsop Arms we walked back to Marylebone and the Victoria and Albert which sits in the very station building itself. As regular readers will know, I’ve now visited more than my fair share of station pubs and it’s very nice to be able to report that the V&A (as it’s known to friends) is yet again another very very good station pub.

The V&A from the outside of the station.

It is split into two parts and at first on the side where we’d entered there was only one hand pump serving Old Speckled Hen which may lead you to believe there wasn’t much of a beer selection, but eagle eyed Buddy Rob noticed that not only were there bottles of Bud in the fridge but also bottles of Duvel and Chimay Red. Charlie on the other hand had noticed the Meantime Pale Ale and it was with 5 pints of this (yes, and the bottle of Bud) that we retired into the other half of the bar to notice 4 other handpumps! The pints of Meantime came in a selection of Meantime glasses (see Golden Lion) and Stella Glasses (grrrr) but I’m still convinced there’s something about a stemmed glass which makes one behave in a more cultured fashion.

It was whilst our drinks were being poured that I asked the barmaid if she knew where the Cask Marque certificate was. “Oh yes” she replied “Just next door, on the wall” and sure enough, there it was! It was only after getting the scan (no need for Pete’s special tether this time) that I realised this was the first barmaid in the whole of the Monopoly Tour (so far) who knew what I was going on about when I’d mentioned Cask Marque – add to this the fact she looked like Velma from Scooby Doo – it was no wonder that I, and the rest of the scanners, all fell instantly in love with her!

But true love cannot wait for a Cask Marque bottle opener and it was half way through our drinks that Aussie Pete announced that his scan score was at the dizzy heights of 24 and the very next scan would see him net him his first Cask Marque gift. So we scurried away into the night pausing only for Aussie Pete to take my photo against a Monopoly themed advert inside the pub. As I stood there posing, the old fella on the next table leaned over and very conspiratorially asked “Do you work for the Government then?”

I mean how do you answer that? So I did it just like Nick Clegg would and lied…………….

The Government Toilet Inspector in action

The final planned stop was the strangely named Perseverance in Shroton Street. This was a pub that Charlie had previously visited and he’d “bigged” it up all along the tour. When we’d got there it was something of a disappointment. Obviously a older traditional pub (big heavy Charrington lanterns hanging outside) it’s been stripped back to it’s minimalistic bare bones so all you’re left with is a circular bar in the middle of the room and a few tables and chairs. The outside was thronging with hoards of drinkers but the inside was almost deserted in a atmospherical vacuum. The service was delightful however, by surely someone who could have easily have been Miss Barmaid 2012 dressed in tight denim shorts and wellies (it works, try it. It works!) and the 5 pints of Doombar was perfectly served. Unfortunately though Buddy Rob had to settle for a pint of Heineken (all tastes the same Rob, really it does).

Detail of the Perseverance's Charrington Lanterns.

Aussie Pete by this time was nearly in tears as he hadn’t managed to locate the certificate for the scan but a quick enquiry with the bar manageress had her scuttling up to the office to produce the certificate for us all to scan away to our heart’s content.

We retired outside to the much jollier atmosphere and to toast Aussie Pete’s 25^th scan when he appeared holding aloft a professional looking laptop bag. “Who left their bag inside?” he helpfully announced as we all looked at each other wondering why he’d just basically stolen someone’s computer. “Ah……I guess I’ll put it back then…” Yeah, probably a good idea, that’s personal bag advice there as PigeonJon might say.

It may have been that the Perseverance was just too trendy for us old farts. We asked for crisps but got a handful of lattice shapes on a china plate, which although tasty wasnt what we were used to.

Buddy Rob offers the posh crisps to New guy Mickey

Buddy Rob had to leave us then but there was just enough funds in the kitty to warrant a lightening quick sprint over the Marylebone Road into Harcourt Street and the aptly named Harcourt Arms, a very handsome looking end of street pub which a curious Swedish twist (it's true, they even say it on their Twitter account). Not only were there numerous adverts for the appalling Kopparberg Cider but there was also live streaming of league Ice Hockey. Luckily the Adnams Ghost Ship was tasting very English although the boys had now almost to a man slipped into lager mode.

The boys approaching the Harcourt like Reservoir Dogs

From there, after my chair had been stolen by an old chap whilst I was dashing to the loo, I made my excuses and left. For me this just left a nice short stroll back to Edgeware Road and one single Tube stop before Paddington and the train home.

Upon entering work the following day I discover from New Guy Mickey that the remaining boys remained in the Harcourt for several hours longer. I hear that Charlie has changed his name to Johan Johansson, No Nickname Michael's favourite snack is rotting herring heads and Aussie Pete is working his passage to Stockholm aboard a fishing trawler.

Number of Cask Marque Pubs visited = 70

Is there no service that a pub won’t do now? = In the V&A you can have table service so you don’t need to leave your bags unattended. In the Allsop Arms they will serve you at the fruit machine!

Are Wagon Wheels Paleo = ?

Next Stop = Bow Street

Northumberland Avenue

Right, firstly updating the blog at this time means for certain I’m going to have a late night and that late night has only been made later by the shear idiocy of First Great Western. But I’m determined not to bore you, consistent reader, any more than I normally do with moans about this and instead announce that I have an amendment to make……….

You will have seen from my post on the Electricity Company that I was slightly disappointed by my visit to the Masons Arms in Battersea. Well let no man accuse the Masons or Fullers of not making amends! I was contacted this week firstly by Fullers in that they wanted the General Manager of the Masons to speak to me personally which was then followed by a lovely phone call from Matt (the General Manager) who not only apologised for my disappointment during my visit, making me feel very guilty in the process(!) but also sent me a very generous voucher to come and have a meal and a pint on them at my convenience. He also assured me that the Cask Marque certificate is now proudly on display so I more than look forward to revisiting and making their acquaintance again. I will of course Blog this re-visit when it happens.

First Great Western, take note, this is how you perform customer service. Listen to them, understand them and then act on those comments………….oh sorry of course I forgot, you hate your customers in the first place.

Right, so down to tonight’s visit………………..

It says "Northumberland Avenue" - Honest it does!

Regular readers of the blog will know that Northumberland Avenue nearly got lumped in with last week’s visit to Whitehall. It’s when you see how close the streets are you realise that the Monopoly board designers perhaps had some method behind their madness. Northumberland Street is a swift left turn when exiting from Embankment Tube station and it was only a brisk walk up the street to the turning to the aptly named Northumberland Street and the Sherlock Holmes pub.

The boys choosing to enter through the door covered in lemon curd - Lemon Entry my dear Watson!(I'm here all week!)

I had been in the Sherlock Holmes before as our work’s Xmas party was held just round the corner and a swift pre-party pint was the order of the evening. That evening we were all dressed in penguin suits which drew a couple of witty remarks from the other customers so it was something nearing relief that tonight we were in mufti. What we’d also failed to note the last time we were here is the interesting history of the pub. Their own website tells the full story (and much better than I do) but special mention must be made of the display of Sherlock Holmes’s sitting room and the rest of the Holmensian memorabilia.

Unfortunately we didn’t get to see the sitting room as the pub was absolutely rammed, full to the gunnels, and as we were running at our largest crowd so far it was rather a case of getting in, getting a drink, getting the scan and getting out again.

We did note the rather impressive encased dog’s head on the wall (presumably signifying the Hound of the Baskervilles) but we also noted the impressive framed casing around the Cask Marque certificate located behind the bar. Luckily Aussie Pete’s antipodean charm got the barmaid to rescue the certificate from the frame so that we could all scan it. I say “all” because now we’ve got Aussie Pete, New Guy Mickey, Buddie Rob, Spiky haired Ed and Charlie all scanning along with me. I should have charged commission! As previously mentioned this was our largest visitation so far as along with these 5 regulars we were joined tonight by “yet to be given a nickname Michael” and the lovely Mags.

Is there nothing more attractive than a woman with a pint? Yes, an overweight bespectacled middle aged bloke with a pint.

Mags requires rather more explanation as she (yes that’s right, a lady who works within an IT team!) is a delectable creature with a dirty Essex accent reminiscent of a gurgling drain and who had positively begged to come of this evening excursion. “I’ll be drinking what Rich drinks as well” she bravely suggested before failing to finish her pint of the self branded Sherlock Holmes Ale. (I must find out what this ale is – I think it’s rebadged Abbot Ale (it is a Greene King pub after all) but I will endeavour to discover the truth – (did I sound like Sherlock then?))

Because the place was so full we all elected that a swift move onwards might be the best thing and we moved via The Strand in full circle back to Villier’s Street and the Princess of Wales, a Nicholson’s pubs just outside Embankment Tube Station.

Not named after Princess Di if you were interested

There were slight moans and groans from the collective as some of them had experienced this pub before, but to be honest I found it a regular if slightly unimaginative Nicholson’s hostelry with a good choice of beer and the Cask Marque certificate was easily available on the wall by the toilets. Then at just gone 7 o clock, just as we were deciding whether to stay for another one or not, the landlord decided that it was disco night and slammed on some blazing Jamiroquai out of every loud speaker. Why? Did he peer over the handpumps and decide that the crowd looked bored and were just waiting for livening up? Or did he just do what he does no doubt every night and without consideration to his public alienate the majority of the clientele?

Whatever the reasons, they were lost on us anyway; we made out escape after just one pint and crossed back over the Strand into Chandos Place and the multi-award winning Harp. This tiny narrow pub had a multitude of patrons spilling over onto the pavement and it wasn’t until I entered that a realised how multi-award winning it was. There seemed to be CAMRA certificates all over the shop and Cask Marque certificates stretching back year upon year, but alas we couldn’t locate the current certificate and get the scan. It was then I noticed that this was not only a multi-award winning CAMRA pub; it was in fact the National Pub of the Year for 2010!

Inside the Harp. The picture doesn't show how there are as many people as there are pump clips!

I would have loved to have spend longer there – the bar was simply covered with ex-pump clips, almost like a plastic ivy crawling up to the ceiling but not only was the pub simply too full, but even outside we were constantly hassled by a rather over zealous glass collector who insisted we stood in certain areas. I will see whether Cask Marque’s claim that if you can prove you visited a pub but didn’t get the scan they will still award the scan is true as I say attempting to go back inside to try to find the certificate was just impossible.

There was one final Cask Marque pub I’d noticed just round the corner into Bedfordbury and I hope that the little Lemon Tree is tucked away where hopefully enough people do find it. It’s a lovely little oasis amongst the crowds of Covent Garden and the pint of Harvey’s Best Bitter was without doubt the best I’d had all night. So much so we stayed for three of them. It's to my shame that I forgot to take a photo of the place but they can rest assured that we spent more there that we did at the other three! The Cask Marque certificate was easily available on the wall and the most fun was trying to bet whether the various lotharios in the window seats would successfully “pull” their nominated ladies. We reckon one will, and one won’t. Not that we’ll ever find out anyway……………………..

There was definitely something funny which happened tonight which I can't remember.........there maybe an update to this post!

Number of Cask Marque Pubs visited = 64 (maybe 65 if Cask Marque award me the Harp)

Advice for Aussie Pete = It’s all for charity mate!

Should you discuss religion in a pub? = If you agree with Charlie and me in that it poisons everything, then yes. (It does. Seriously, it does. I am available to rent for further discussion!)

Next Stop = Marylebone Station

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FLASH UPDATE

I’ve remembered the funny thing, although trying to write about it may well be nigh on impossible……….but here goes.

Basically as we were standing outside the Harp (in the right place of course) I was regaling the boys (and girl) with a description of the T-Shirt I received from Cask Marque for reaching 50 scans. I then amended my description by saying, “Well actually it’s not a T-Shirt, it’s a Polo Shirt…..” which was then met by a guffaw of laughter from Charlie as he spluttered “A poe-loe shirt? What the heck is a poe-loe shirt?”

Oh, I get it; it’s my hilarious comedy midland accent again. This seems to delight co-workers as I offer to make a “kup” or a “mugg” of tea when of course it apparently should be a “caaaap” and “maaaag”. So I challenged Charlie to say polo shirt and it seems you can take the man out of Somerset but there’ll still be a bit of corn chewing yokel left behind – “Poo-loo” it seemed to come out.

Then we went round the group – most seemed to go for a pretty standard southern “Paw-lowe”, although Mags took this to new levels with a sort of Wizard of Oz Wicked Witch inspired cackle (“Paow-Laow”) – but nothing prepared us for Aussie Pete. Although we were all expecting and awaiting something of a high rising terminal what we weren’t expecting the way he mangled the two vowels into two completely different sounds – they nearest I can type it is “Pouw-Laough” – Rolf would have been proud! How we laughed until the Cancer Research guy turned up!

(Oh and how many of you have sound said Polo out loud? I know only three people read this, but did you? I bet you did!)

Whitehall

Before we launch into today’s exciting and much awaited blog I need to report some even more thrilling news. On Tuesday this week, I received an email from “Sam”, an executive from a PR company on behalf of Cask Marque themselves. Their question, would I like to be interviewed with the view to a press release about the Ale Trail and Cask Finder and my Monopoly Blog………..! Well would I? Would I ever Trevor!

So it was with an immense frisson of excitement that I rang Sam today, betting of course on the fact that everyone who works in PR is bound to be female and Sam was sure to be a young, nubile, beer loving girly who might have a kink for slightly overweight bespectacled ale fetishists. “Hello, this is Sam,” resonated the mellow baritone timbre of someone who could definitely not be female……ah, never mind. Sam turned out to be a delightfully friendly chap who none the less grilled me mercilessly about the motivation of the Monopoly trail making me question my own sanity and whether I need to get out more. (I do, but there again that’s what the trail is all about!) And of course piled on the pressure for tonight’s episode which I promised him would be complete by tomorrow. So, Sam! This one’s dedicated to you!

BGC gets into the spirit of Whitehall

But pressure aside, I was very much looking forward to doing the Whitehall square as for starters it’s an interesting street. Running from Trafalgar Square to Parliament Square it has numerous places of interest along its length including Downing Street, the Cenotaph and Horse Guards Parade. The two pubs I’d identified were at the Trafalgar Square end and were also exactly opposite each other which promised to make it a trouble free visit. On the south side was the Taylor Walker pub of the Silver Cross and on the north side was Weatherspoon’s grandly named Lord Moon of the Mall.

The usual gang of suspects were rounded up (in fact they didn’t need rounding up, they were all gagging for an excuse for a pint!) and we were all delighted to discover that Spiky haired Ed’s social diary was completely blank and he was willing to forgo the sexual education of Beckenham’s single women and join us gang of old sweats on the trail once more.

BGC on the south side of Whitehall about to enter the Silver Cross. Note Nelson in the background.

Alighting at Embankment station, where Charlie had promised we could take a short cut up to Whitehall, I was surprised to see we were actually walking up Northumberland Avenue, i.e. the next square on the board. The possibility of another “double-square” visit was on the cards and as we entered the Silver Sword I told the boys of this idea. But was well and truly slapped down as they all decried the idea saying that we would lose out on another excuse for a visit if we did it that way! Well blow me down! They are actually enjoying this!

My love of real ale must also be rubbing off on them all as 3 of them followed my lead in ordering pints of Thwaite’s Wainwright ale leaving just Rob sucking on his usual bottle of Bud and Spiky haired Ed on a pint of Stella Black – Stella Black? What’s that all about then? For a start, it’s not black and tastes just like normal Stella. Or am I missing the point? The only redeeming feature is that it did come in a nice stemmed glass.

By popular demand: L to R - Charlie, Aussie Pete, BGC, New Guy Mickey, Spiky haired (and limp wristed) Ed - Blurred photo copywrite of Rob

The Cask Marque certificate was propped ideally behind the bar but when I asked the barmaid if she could bring it nearer so I could scan it, I might as well have spoken my request without using any vowels so perplexed was her frown at what I had said. I explained further about what Cask Marque was and the frown turned to downright panic as she obviously thought that a crowd of imbeciles had descended on her pub and were trying to have their wicked way with her. It was then I had a flash of inspiration as I realised I had my Cask Marque 25 scan bottle opener with me and proudly presented said item as prove of the Ale Trail and my own sanity. It did the trick anyway and Aussie Pete and I took the scan without any further trouble or a restraining order.

The visit lengthened into two pints as I tried the AdnamsBroadside whilst the manly drinkers stayed with Wainwright (Ed and Rob still on Pina Coladas) and we all commented how the pub was a real oasis of calm when one considered that the mayhem of Trafalgar Square was just yards away.

BGC on the north side of Whitehall about to enter the Lord Moon. Note Nelson in the background.

We then safely crossed the road (looking at you Ed) to the Lord Moon of the Mall, a much bigger, and very typically Weatherspoon’s looking pub with “fantastic windows” as noted by Aussie Pete. Once again I seem to have been nominated as beer picker as everyone followed my lead of a pint of DanishDynamite from Stonehenge Brewery. It was then that Ed came out with a real pearl of wisdom by asking, “Danish Dynamite, is that like a German beer?” but to be honest he had a point. Although the beer was nice, very nice in fact, quite exactly what was Danish about it escaped me anyway.

So there we have it, two pubs, two scans, job done………….or so we thought until Charlie, with very obviously the scent of the barmaid’s apron in his nostrils suggested that Whitehall was such an interesting street we should walk the complete length of it and venture down to the far end. I knew there was another Cask Marque pub at the Parliament Square end, namely the RedLion but had thought it was rather a hike away. But I’m glad to say that Charlie’s wisdom shone through and we easily fitted in another couple of pints at this fine Fuller’s pub.

It was here that I (and Aussie Pete) had a Cask Finder breakthrough moment as we persuaded both Spiky haired Ed and new guy Mickey to download the Cask Finder app and pop their Cask Marque cherries by scanning the Red Lion. Well done guys, only 99 more to go!

As we left the Red Lion to catch the tube at Westminster I was coerced into another photo call outside the pub, it was then I suffered my second “famous moment” of the day as a gang of merry night-outers gate crashed the photo. “What you lot up to then?” asked one of the slurring revellers. Sensing an opportunity for more blog traffic I handed one of the girls one of my BGC business cards telling her that the blog would be up tomorrow and they’d be mentioned. Now I’m sure I heard one of them say “Oh, so you’re the Beer Glass Collector!” in a voice of awe and wonderment but I must admit it could equally have been more along the lines of “Beer Glasses? WTF?” but it rounded off a most satisfying evening and my first taste of public life. Ah…………anything for my public!

BGC and some random strangers outside the Red Lion - Blurred photo copywrite of Charlie.

Number of Cask Marque Pubs visited = 60

Sir Robert Peel? Well, would you? = Ed would.

First Great Western? = Well they were on time enough to get me back for The Last Leg anyway.

Next Stop = Northumberland Avenue (again)