Chance #3

I'm starting to think that no-one likes me anymore. Well, I say "anymore" but it could be of course that no-one has ever liked me and their attendance on some of the evenings  out during the tour were just excuses to discover new and exciting drinking holes in London. But at least it made me feel like I was popular and needed and not like a sad old man who keeps pestering people with emails.  

The arrangements for this square however seemed to show a positive effort to avoid the tour at any costs and I have to say that some of the excuses that were made showed a huge amount of ingenuity if not a large slice of imagination. If these people put as much effort into arranging their lives around the tour, everyone would be much happier. But on no, these folk seem to think they can have a life outside of the Monopoly Board! The cheek of it! 

That said though I do have to give credit to Big-J who not only put in a welcome return to the fold, actually made up excuses to attend and pulled off some marvellous bargaining with his nearest and dearest to wangle a night out. The only other attendee was my ever faithful Tonto otherwise known as Spikey Haired Ed......perhaps he just has a worse social diary than me! 

And whilst we're on the subject of Ed, I must give much kudos for his idea of where to go for the evening in the first place. The actual square was the third and final Chance square and when I asked if he had any good ideas for it, quick as greasy flash of lightening he replied, "How about Chancery Lane?" - I couldn't have put it better myself! 

Ed caused a massive pile up stopping commuters entering the station to take this photo. And was it worth it..............?

So like a very boring version of the Three Stooges (Doh, Gary & Shirley perhaps?) we made the convoluted tube journey to Chancery Lane which seemed to involve more walking around the endless corridors of the train stations themselves than actually travelling any meaningful distance toward our destination.  

The first pub was the Melton Mowbray which is on the main road of Holborn itself. It's a very smart Fuller Pie & Ale house (normal pies I think, not special pork ones) and seeing as it was probably the first tour we've done this year in the recent good weather, nicely full with no problems to get to the bar.

And not a pie in sight.

The cheeky eastern European barmaid asked what I wanted and using my usual skill of picking an ale at random I went for the Spring Sprinter, Fuller's seasonal beer for the season. Big-J followed suit and when Ed started umming and arring the barmaid pinged an imaginary bell and told him he'd ran out of time and that she wouldn't serve him. But she did, especially when he made it easy for her and went with the Spring Sprinter as well. 

We retired to a nice seat in the bay window and finally puzzled out the latest series of adverts that have started to appear on the tube. Dara O'Briain, in the way that Brian Cox has made science sexy, seems set to become the prime time entertainment voice of maths and has started posing some arithmetic questions which presumably help people while away their tube journey whilst also promoting his UKTV show School Of Hard Sums. Well good on you Dara, better looking than Carol Vorderman and an improvement on the version I had as a kid, Magnus Pyke. The puzzle we'd spent most of the time chewing over whilst traipsing around Bank Station went something like this. If you have five mice and the first one weighs 16grames and the average weight of the mice goes up by 1g each time you add a mouse (i.e. when you weigh the first two the average increases to 17g) what's the weight of the fifth and final mouse?  

If you can work out the answer before you've read the rest of the blog there's a prize! 

If left the two brainiacs to their puzzling and went to find the certificate. The pub, in the same way as The Chamberlain, had put an outdoors plaque on the inside of the pub but of the actual certificate there was no sign. Risking another run in wit the the barmaid I asked and in what is a rare occurrence she knew exactly what I wanted, and pulled a rather crumply looking certificate from a stack of papers behind the bar. Still a scan is a scan.

No dancing here for Chris

One final point about the Melton Mowbray if you ever go there; check out the brass ashtrays screwed to the sides of the bar. Obviously not used now but somewhere to plonk your loose change I guess. 

It was a quick dice with death as we crossed back over Holborn (remember how Ed is with buses) and popped down Leather Lane to the next pub, the Sir ChristopherHatton, a rather scruffy looking Nicholsons where the drinking crowd had definitely heard about the good weather as they were sprawled all in front of the pub. The inside was much less crowed so we had no problem getting served, three pints of Sticklebract from Itchen Valley Brewery my good man, and finding a table inside.

A huge area of the pub had been cordoned off with signs reading "Reserved, Alex, 5PM) but it was a rather stroppy annoyed looking barmaid who was tearing the signs down a little past 7 o clock, which means I guess that Alex wasn't coming.Well Alex may not have been there, but the certificate was, stuck on the underside of the bar hatch, which meant that Ed and I were two up for the night.

 

The entrance in Hatton Garden

The final Cask Marque pub of the night was just around the corner in Hatton Garden. Well when I say the pub is in Hatton Garden what I really mean is that the entrance to the pub is in Hatton Garden as the pub itself is down a little alley making it one of London's hidden gems. Almost any pub book that features the capital's pubs will mention Ye Olde Mitre and well they might because it's an absolute gem. Built in 1546 and with stories of Queen Elizabeth I dancing round with SirChristopher Hatton (remember him?) it is like stepping back in time. All the guide books say how hard it is to find but obviously the information is filtering through to some people as there was a healthy crowd teaming both inside and outside the pub. But that said there was a team of eager to serve bar-people and we got served in double quick time, 2 pints of Dragon Slayer from York Brewery and 1 pint of Honey Dew (2 packets of nuts), and still managed to get a free upturned barrel table outside.

 

If you do decide to visit this place don't leave without visiting the toilets. For a start its one of the few remaining gents where the actual loos are outside (a wee in the evening air is somehow much more satisfying don't you think?) and the positioning of the hand basin must make for the friendliest toilets in the land. "Oh, excuse me. Did I spray on you?" (That could be the washer or the wee-er talking)

Oops, excuse me sir.

Both Ed and I located the certificate, hanging on the wall by the Snug. Alas even after moving the rather arrogant Rodney bloke out of the way we still couldn't get a scan as the pub was too dark.

Can you see the certificate? No, neither could the app.

So we'd completed our three Cask Marque pubs for the night but if you're in this part of town another classic pub you must visit is the Cittie of York. Part of the Sam Smith's stable, who seem to shun any sort of publicity or PR focus, its not Cask Marque accredited but still well worth a visit, and like Ye Olde Mitre seems to feature in each and every London pub guide worth its salt.

Big-J, with an hour's worth of bike riding still ahead of him switched to coke and Ed in an amazing show of self discipline chose just a half of the Taddy Lager. Idiot BGC went with a pint of Sam's Wheat Beer, which proved to be a struggle as perhaps the last remaining vestiges of his latest illness were still around and had decided to show themselves during the 4th pint.

Still a good solid tour night and to all those who missed it, I hope the sock drawer tidying and hair washing was worth it! But, like that horrible cheesy old advert used to say, like the Murphy’s, I'm bitter.

Number of Cask Marque Pubs visited = 188

Did you get the answer = Well it’s 24g.Your prize? Take the weekend off

You want more quizzes? = Name the 30 teams of the NBA in under 6 minutes? Ed got 29.

Next Stop = Park Lane

Liverpool Street Station

So, it's been some time my old friend, constant reader. I'm sure you'll excuse me though after the delays caused by my near death experience and public holiday to celebrate the Great King Rabbit, but it's time to get things back on track and where better to do it than a place full of tracks, Liverpool Street Station.

Actually thinking about it, I can think of 101 much better places to do it as I've done a little bit of drinking around this area already and to be perfectly frank, it's a bit of a dump. I know mainline train stations have their work cut out to be attractive places to go to for any other  purpose that catching a train but compared some of the others on the board (the new Kings Cross is lovely and Marylebone has much in the way of charm) Liverpool Street is definitely on the dumpier side of nice.

 

Liverpool Street Station and a rare picture of Spikey Haired Ed

But the one thing it does have going for it is that it's another square just a 10 minute stroll away from our office location. I did then foolishly suppose that we would have a good turn out for this square, especially as it's the last one anywhere near where we all work. But alas concrete promises of attendance petered away as the week went on and by the night of the tour I couldn't get a volunteer to buy me a Jägermeister for love nor money. So it was a rather depleted crowd of five regulars, Spikey Haired Ed, Charlie, Buddy Rob and Sybil who made up the numbers but on the plus side we were joined by Niresh (who we hadn’t seen since Vine Street) and the lovely Chrissie whose only previous appearance had been to crank the handle of the random pub generator when we did Chance Number 2. Buddy Rob had also managed to get in touch with an old work colleague, Stretch Arm-Max who was hoping to make an appearing sometime during the night. So actually, on reflection perhaps a tour of 8 wasn’t such a bad turn out after all. 

So anyway, the stroll to Liverpool Street was easy enough, especially as it was quite a balmy evening compared to much of the awful weather we've been having and the first pub was easily located as it's right by the main entrance, a huge Wetherspoons emporium called The Hamilton Hall. And for those who can’t get enough of the boring pub facts this place was named after Lord Claud Hamilton, chairman of the Great Eastern Railway Company (1893-1923). The building itself it actually quite decorative with an impressive ornamental ceiling adorned with cherubs and the like, unfortunately Wetherspoons seem to have done all they can to make the place as unattractive as possible by fitting a horrible wooden bar and inviting as many horrible Wetherspoons clientele as possible. Ok, I know they can't be blamed for the latter point but the cheaper beer does seem to attract a less salubrious crowd. The other distraction was a set of scaffolding in the pub which didn't seem to be serving any other purpose than holding up the bunting for the Wetherspoons beer festival. 

 

A crowded Hamilton Hall - Note pathetic awning

Anyway, architectural criticisms apart, Ed was forced into being kitty monitor for the night and bravely forced his way to the crowded bar to get the first round in. Only Charlie was joining me on the ales (lots of pints of lager and a cranberry juice for Chrissie) and I spotted a very interesting looking beer called Ionian Coffee Porter by the Corfu Beer brewery - unfortunately though when it came to pour it the barmaid only managed to squeeze one pint out of the barrel meaning either Charlie or I would have to make do with the next pump along. (Sorry can't remember what this was.) But seeing as Charlie hadn’t expressed a preference he got the alternative! We then retired outside just in time to witness the end of the balmy evening as the heavens opened and we had to crouch for shelter under the world's most pathetic awning.  

The Coffee Porter seemed ok at first, but I don't know whether it was the "last in the barrel" syndrome or just the fact I seem to have lost my beer appetite but the pint soon became heavy and claggy and became a real struggle to get down. I had a sip of Charlie's beer which was much sharper and more refreshing so perhaps the joke was on me for insisting I had the porter as I gamely forged onwards. 

The scan for the Hamilton Hall was one I had already got on a previous visit but it was good to see the certificate hanging available for Ed and Charlie, who in the absence of Aussie Pete were the only two scanners out tonight. 

 

Merchant of Bishopsgate

The next pub was also in the station itself, the recently refurbished Merchant of Bishopsgate, a very smart looking place on the lower concourse which markets itself as a Free House. This also had an easily spotted certificate hanging just inside the door and apart from having to ask the young lady guarding her wheelie suitcase to move so I could scan, it was another capture safely in the bag.  

 

The most boring pumps in the world.

You can't fault the decor in the Merchant of Bishopsgate but it's very much a question of style over substance. A more detailed investigation of the ales of offer showed the most ubiquitous brews available in the UK at the moment, London Pride, Greene King IPA, Doombar, Wadworth 6X and Old Speckled Hen, hardly ones you spot and say "oooo haven't had that in ages!" Luckily there was a more interesting alternative in Bohemian Dark by the Meantime Brewing Company, Charlie also went with the Meantime option choosing a pint of London Pale Ale whilst I think the others all had pints of Heineken mixed with a Carlsberg tops, apart from Chrissie who was making sure her prostrate was getting a good workout with the Cranberry juice. Still not trusting my beer mojo had returned I opted for a half pint of the Bohemian Dark and in the end was very glad I did. I don't know whether it's still a hangover from my recent illness or perhaps I've undergone one of those life changing experiences like RichardHammond where after his accident he now has to eat Spinach with every meal (or something like that......) but the beer just wasn't tasting at all tonight and to my shame I couldn't even complete the half pint.

 

The view of the Railway Tavern from the station. No pigeons cos it's raining.

The aptly named Railway Tavern was the next stop, just a quick sprint up the escalator and out the station by the world's scruffiest McDonalds where you're positively encouraged to kick a pigeon on the way. Again this was another pub which I'd already scanned so with Charlie having made an exit after the second pub, it was only Ed who needed to avail himself of the certificate hanging on the wall. The Railway is a Greene King pub but I singularly failed to notice the beers on offer as I capitulated entirely and ordered a diet coke.  

Apart from the crowds and the big screens showing the Masters Golf the Railway Tavern actually isn't that bad a place. For the spotters amongst you, you might like to visit to see the various ex-train company coats of arms adorning the bar and reminisce about the golden age of the railways. Whether the golden age was actually that golden I have no idea, but I'll say this, the coats of arms of the Belfast andCounty Down Railway Company for example beats First Great Westerns shitty logo any day of the week - and I bet they paid a considerable amount less than FGW did! 

Crests of the former railway companies

It was well and truly exit time then as Chrissie, Sybil and Niresh all made tracks for home, leaving just Rob, Ed, Max and I to cross the road to the Lord Aberconway, a Nicholson's pub which had not one but two Cask Marque certificates on offer. What a shame I wasn't drinking still as this was the choice pub of the evening, a lovely multi-level place; it had a spiral staircase and lots of little booths and cubby holes dotted all over. Again I can't comment on the beer selection as it was the demon diet coke that was my tipple once again but at least I got what I wanted as Ed's none specific ordering of a bottle of Budweiser had resulted in Rob being presented with a bottle of Budvar, something as we know from Bow Street doesn't tickle his fancy. 

 

The Lord Aberconway - Buddy Rob leads the way.

At least I wasn't having any trouble drinking the coke, a check of the watch showed that I should easily be able to make my 22:00 train from Reading station so I left the guys to it, made my excuses and left thinking in my present frame of mind, an early night might be best for all concerned.  

The best laid plans of mice and men though are of course scuppered by broken down trains. I made it to Reading in plenty of time for the 22:00 service but the wonderful company that is First Great Western decided to cancel it when it became stuck behind a broken down train. To cut a very long, very cold and very boring hour and a bit wait on the platform, we were eventually shipped home by bus, with me getting in at 1/4 past midnight - not quite the early night I had envisaged! 

Now I hope you, my faithful constant reader (yep, not optimistic enough to suppose I have constant readers) have felt through my writings that I'm a nice and fair minded chap. If you haven't felt this then you must be reading it wrong, but let me assure you that I am. First Great Western however are slowly but surely, with each delay and cancellation turning me into the sort of person I would avoid in a broken down lift situation, making me a curmudgeon vying for the undisputed world moaning cruiser weight crown. This latest highlight in my commuting relationship with them called for a strongly worded letter much in the style of "Annoyed from Tunbridge Wells" so here it is. 

Petty, point scoring and all rather pathetic, I'll accept all those criticisms as they are no doubt very true but all I can say in mitigation is that they were asking for it and no doubt next week I'll be doing it again! 

Never happens when I'm drunk though..........interesting.......

 

Number of Cask Marque Pubs visited  = 186

 

So BGC, is it the wagon for you? = I don't think so. I may have had a dodgy week but can break the habit of a lifetime just on that.

 

And did Ed drink lager all night? = Oh I don't know, probably not and he'll probably have another go at me for suggesting that he did.

 

Next Stop = Chance #3