Packing away the pieces

In amongst the facts and figures of the "tour statistics" post I mentioned that the tour ran for a total of 367 days (or 1 year and 1 day if that makes it easier) and it's possibly worth revisiting why for the last 12 and a tiny fraction of the 13th months (see there's always another way of presenting statistics) I and the other tourists have been ploughing around doing this.

Obviously there are the reasons of gaining the Cask Marque prizes and the inbuilt nature of the male which seems to need to satisfy the obsessive nature of being able to collect something but I'd like to think there was another reason, that of believing in something that as a country we're blindly starting to lose and something we'll probably not really realise what we might be risking until it has gone. And that of course is the great British Pub.

I'm not going to get drawn into the minutia of figures and statistics again (see the last post if you want those!) but the pressures and hardships that are being faced by our pubs might never have been so great and I think even the most seldom of pub visitor cannot be unaware of the frightening rate of closure of both town and rural pubs.

Writers who managed to make a living from scribbling summed up the wonders and joys of the British pub much better than I ever can, so I’ll keep my eulogy brief and just say that the unique institution is surely something far too precious to thrown onto the scrap heap?

So to sum this sentiment up, if there's anything I hope I've achieved by running the tour is that the tourists themselves have also rediscovered and enjoyed a visit to the pub and possibly away from these rather silly nights out they'll continue to support their locals.

Back to the nature of the tour again though, it was the Cask Marque tour and we should focus a little bit on what being a Cask Marque pub means. Obviously Cask Marque are in the business of promoting good quality cask ale and as such with their close scrutiny of the standard of ale being served in their accredited pubs it's a very handy way to ensure that when in a unfamiliar area of town, you're pretty much assured a fairly decent pint. And if your pint isn't decent, well at least you have another course of recourse by virtue of the fact you can raise the issue with Cask Marque themselves, who'll deal with the pub themselves. 

I know only a little of the hoops that must be jumped through to gain Cask Marque accreditation but I know they're not simple, so there was one thing that had me scratching my head harder and harder as the tour went along. Why go to all the hard work of attaining the certificate and then not bother to display the certificate? I totally understand that some places might not have had them up on the wall for perfectly legitimate reasons (change of landlord for example) but far too many place seemed either completely indifferent to it ("oh I think it's in the office somewhere but I don't know exactly where") or hadn't a clue what we were going on about. The second point could possibly be dealt with by staff training but the first is a little more serious.

I wonder if it has something to do with how Cask Marque is perceived by the pub industry and how the pub industry is organised in the first place. 

As mentioned in the last post, it was no surprise to see the majority of Cask Marque pubs we visited were dominated by 4 massive pub chains. But even following on from that, the next groups of pubs were all chains as well. It's rather scary to see from my evidence that only 2 or 3 pubs seemed to be either free houses or tiny 3-4 pub chains.  

Now don't get me wrong, there was nothing wrong with the chains (I'm not going to touch on the whole issue of the beer tie or anything) per say, most were well run and the beer quality good but I wonder if gaining Cask Marque accreditation is as much of a boon for the single free house as it is for the chain? 

How Cask Marque goes about dealing with this is a puzzler for Alistair and the gang but I hope they continue to make gaining accreditation just as worthwhile and possible for every pub and not just those being run as part of a chain.

 But a further word about those chains, again referring back to Counting the Scores we saw that the "winning" chain, if that's the right expression was TaylorWalker with 26 pubs appearing on the tour; this was closely followed by Nicholson’s with 22 and Fuller’s with 19 and Greene King with 15. There's a well documented issue with chains in that they usually try to stamp a corporate brand onto all locations sometimes without a care for the origins of the pub or building, but I think I can happily report that maybe the days of someone like Watneys coming in a painting everything that moves “Watney Red” have now gone. Most of the chains still try to do a uniform decor job but I saw many fine examples where this had been done around and in harmony with the history of the pub and it was actually quite comforting to know that some of our very valuable pubs are safely in the hands on such caring companies. Want an example? Well how about the Ye Olde Mitre Inn which Fullers are obviously lavishing care and attention on, or the Argyll Arms whose fantastic ceilings and huge mirrors are polished lovingly by Nicholson’s. And in that analysis we see the two companies who I felt were doing the best jobs from the 4 majors. Now if Taylor Walker took on a “no blaring music policy” and Greene King a much more “extensive guest beer policy” then they could possibly catch up! 

But if we really want to give out prizes for the best places, then we need to "GO" back in time.....so let me take you on a journey......a magical journey....just close your eyes......(to be continued)

Counting the scores

So as the late great Larry Grayson might have said, "What are the scores on the doors?" and providing he was referring to the black and white statistics about the Monopoly Tour then lucky I'm in a position to don a black bob wig and do my best Isla St Clair.

The tour lasted for almost exactly a year, 367 days to be absolutely precise and it covered a total of 39 of the 40 squares on the Monopoly Board, this included all properties, all stations, all chances, all community chests, all utilities and even jail, go to jail and free parking. As hinted in the last blog post, we are still yet to cover "GO" but that will be done as a grand finale to the whole shebang and won’t be covering any new pubs.

During those 39 square we (or I) visited a grand total of 137 different pubs, one of which, the Artillery Arms was covered twice; once for Community Chest #1 and once again for Super Tax. The most pubs ever covered by one square were 6 but we did this 4 times when we visited Bow Street, Fleet Street, Leicester Square and Oxford Street. The least amount of pubs was just the 1 when I started the whole thing off in Old Kent Road on my own.

The tour (or maybe it was my charm and charisma) managed to attract a total of 43 different tourists (even I was surprised by that!) and a huge 60.5% of those came back for a second visit. The most tourists we ever had on a single square was 13 when we rolled up to Super Tax and the least, discounting any tours I made on my own, was 2 when it was just me and Spikey Haired Ed who conquered the WaterWorks square.

In terms of Cask Marque statistics, which I know Alistair will be greatly interested in, I started the tour with a total of 34 scans and now at the end I'm at 208. Obviously that includes other pubs I've been scanning outside of the tour, so maybe I (and Cask Marque) should be more proud of the scanners we introduced to the delights of the Cask Finder app; Micky, Charlie both have enough scans for their bottle openers. Ed should be cutting a fine figure of a bloating young man in his Polo Shirt (Pul-low - oh how we still laugh!) and Aussie Pete has been promoted to the dizzying heights of Cask Marque Ambassador with his brewery tour prize just around the corner! 

The longest run of consecutive scans was 7 which again we did on 4 different occasions; From The Savoy Tup (Chance #1) to Euston Flyer (Euston Road) – Ye Olde Watling (Change #2) to Ye Olde Cock Tavern (Fleet Street) – Nellie Dean of Soho (Oxford Street) to Spread Eagle (Bond Street) – Coach and Horses (Bond Street) to Sir Christopher Hatton (Chance #3).

 

Well done to all those pubs for getting the certificate out for the lads! Unfortunately that does mean that 28.5% of pubs for some reason or other did not have their certificate out for display and scanning, but I'll go into that in more details in a future post. 

The pubs we covered have been dominated by 4 major pub chains, in order of number of pubs that appeared on the tour Taylor Walker ran away with 1st prize chalking up 26 pubs, this was closely followed by Nicholson’s on 22, Fuller’s and Greene King coming in 3^rd and 4^th on 19 and 15 pubs respectively. 

None of this I guess is really surprising as all 4 have a traditional presence in the capital or the south of the country (ok maybe not so traditionally Greene King but they're never slow in seeking an opportunity)  - What I guess is most disappointing is to see so few truly free houses on the tour. 

But of course numbers never tell the true story, although geeky people like me love to crunch them in a thousand different ways, and of course how could one sum up the experience of 137 different pubs by numbers alone. So there is of course a human story behind these facts and figures. And for that we need another post.

Bond Street

And it had all the ingredients of a classic Monopoly Tour visit and yet ended in beers, tears and something else that rhymes with …ears. Years perhaps? I’ll deal with the visit first and then the fallout and aftermath second. 

So, here we were, steaming down the final side of the board and reaching the final of the green squares, the slightly more expensive Bond Street. Again for those Monopoly egg-heads and trivia buffs you might know that there isn’t really a single street called “Bond Street” but the place is made up of both “New” and “Old” Bond Streets. The streets themselves join at the elbow so to speak (look at a map and you’ll see what I mean) and there’s just a narrow pathway that joins the two roads together. It was whilst checking this out on Google StreetView that I secured an element that’s been missing from a couple of recent visits, the interesting and historical feature, but more of that later.

 

Exactly what it says on the tin.

 

So we had the venue and as any regular reader of the blog will have cottoned on by now, the organising of the pubs follows pretty much straightforward from that. There was a nice line of Cask Marque accredited places leading down from Bond Street Tube Station, following New Bond Street into Old Bond Street. So it terms of pubs, there were no dramas here, just the actual date of the tour to finalise.  

Without going into too many personal details, it was this week that I had to endure the annual ritual of moving one more year nearer to death (oh how pithy that turned out to be!) so with the agreement of the lovely family, I was allowed to have the tour on my actual birthday, which whilst not the best plan for a mid-week night, with only 5 pubs planned and Aussie Pete’s dad in special attendance what could possibly go wrong.

And whilst on the subject of attendees we’ll just confirm the other folk appearing in this episode; from the office the only original office regulars were Buddy Rob and New Guy Micky although they were joined by the two most dedicated of the female office drinkers, Gemma and Nicole. Both Aussie Pete (including Aussie Dad) and Spiky Haired Ed were on holiday but had agreed to meet us in the first pub so the only new face to introduce was that of James James Morrison Morrison. James had been slightly hoodwinked into this week’s visit after promising to come on the next “local” trip (which would be Liverpool Street Station) but somehow the scheduling hadn’t quite worked out that way and he ended up a rather reluctant extra on this birthday tour. 

 

Not compulsory to "adopt the position" inside.

The first pub was Taylor Walker’s Spread Eagle (which caused some odd requests for the obligatory photo) which is on Woodstock Street, a road leading off Oxford Street. Aussie Pete and Aussie Dad were already in position but the rest of us arrived almost in tandem with Spikey Haired Ed, although the latter was already moaning that he had another engagement and would have to leave early. Anyway just in time to get the round in, in fact, which consisted of some left over “Luck of the Irish” from Stonehenge Brewery, obviously brewed for St Patrick’s Day it was another coloured green beer from this brewery and to be honest they’d do better to concentrate on brewing better tasting stuff than the gimmicky stuff. My faithful ale girls, Gemma and Nicole at least joined me in trying the stuff whist the others had to make do with other beverages, which included James James keeping to his “no beer” promise and having a JD & Coke. 

 

Rob looks admiringly at Nicole's tackling of the green beer. Gemma is googling the treatment for ketoacidosis.

The Spread Eagle is a cosy little place and once we’d terrorised the single little old lady off, we had a nice comfy corner all to ourselves. Also to the pub’s credit the Cask Marque certificate was hung on the wall directly inside the door meaning we got off to a good easy scan start. 

We didn’t linger in the pub but moved swiftly on once the green beer was drunk. The next two places were another occurrence of pubs being located directly opposite each other. Firstly there was The Duke of York at number 8 Dering Street, which was the first of the two we entered after crossing New Bond Street. Another Taylor Walker place it was a similarly cramped but cosy place with much needed spaced dominated by a wrought iron spiral staircase. The beer range was worse than the Spread Eagle though, we could have pints of the green beer again or Fuller’s London Pride. Nicole and I kept the real ale fires burning as Gemma deserted us for horrible cider and the rest were committed to standard lagers although I have to give credit to Aussie Pete and Aussie Dad who were continuing in their own round of English Bitter. 

 

Spiral Staircase in the Duke of York. To give an idea of scale, James James's forehead is 11 foot high.

The chap behind the bar didn’t have a clue about the certificate though, although his one-toothed Irish colleague who he asked, seemed to think he’d seen the certificate once before. But despite much hunting neither of them could lay their hands on it and we had to admit defeat on the scanning front. 

 

BGC, James James & Gemma outside Bonds. After my illness I am now skinnier than both of them.

As previously mentioned the next pub on the list was but a short stroll over the road, to number 11 Dering Street, a rather smart wine-bar looking place called “Bonds” which is ran by the Stonegate Company. Alas though Ed wouldn’t be joining us as he decided that it was time for him to leave after many harassing text messages calling him to his other appointment. All I’ll say is that I bet you wish you’d stayed with us know hey Ed? 

The ale selection in Bonds was rather poor (I seem to recall only Greene King IPA available) but their full beer range was much more comprehensive resulting in Meantime London IPA for most of us. James James’s no beer promise finally cracked, as he joined Buddy Rob in a bottle of bud. 

 

The Duke of York as photographed from inside Bonds

Bonds certainly wouldn’t be my first choice of pub, being a dimly lit trendy sort of place, whereas I prefer to be able to see whom I’m drinking with and prefer a more scruffy bunch of fellow drinkers (not for a minute I’m suggesting the rest of the tour is trendy by the way). But the beer was fine and they had the certificate easily available so I shouldn’t be too harsh especially as I was treated to a nasty birthday Jägermeister shot from the ladies. 

So it was three pubs down, two to go but it was here than the group split. James James was obviously easing himself slowly into tour life as he decided to leave early and the ladies joined him after agreeing that perhaps a five pub crawl wasn’t entirely appropriate on a Tuesday night. Still the tour stalwarts carried on as we travelled slightly more south down New Bond Street and cut down the alley way of Avery Row to the Iron Duke, our second pub named after Arthur Wellesley. This is a small Fuller’s pub which compared to some of their very smart and gleaming premises is a rather muted place although the pairs of leather boots adoring the walls are quite fun. I had a pint of Fuller’s classic ESB whilst Micky treated the rest of the gang to crisps. The bar staff seemed rather indifferent to their clientele though and requests for the location of the certificate drew blank looks and therefore no scan. 

Iron Duke - BGC with cast iron constitution.

The final stop was the Coach and Horses in Bruton Close but first we had to visit the historical piece of interest which I mentioned earlier. Right on the path than connects New and Old Bond Street is a statue of two elderly gentlemen on a park bench. The gentlemen in question are actually Winston Churchill and Franklin D Roosevelt and the statue is called Allies and was a gift from the Bond Street Association to celebrate 50 years of peace.

 

I bet both Winnie and Frankie and well pleased to have fought for freedom for this!

Doing our best to break the peace, we each took hilarious turns sitting with the two statesmen and probably generally took away all the dignity that the statue has. But anyway, if you’re even in this area do look out for it as it’s the sort of thing you miss completely and is well worth a photo. 

 

This apparently is the way to treat statesmen and politicians in Australia.

Slightly retracing our steps to the Coach and Horses which was our third Taylor Walker pub of the evening. This is a rather incongruous black and white half-timbered wedge shaped building stuck in the middle of an otherwise very modern looking street. Not sure whether the pub is totally authentic but we got a warm welcome from the jolly barman even though the beers on offer included the bloody green beer again! 

 

BGC and Coach and Horses - That cocked leg is catching!

There was quite a funny dynamic going on between the two main barmen; one a younger oriental type was quite offhand and dismissive of us, especially when we asked for the certificate. He pretended to know what it was and then claimed he didn’t where it was when asked for its location, but when we asked the older chap he instantly pointed to it hanging on the wall. It was no surprise then who we asked to take a photo of us all having one final sticky Jagermeister for the road. 

The rest of the gang wandered back towards Oxford Street and a famous burger place beginning with M. I on the other hand made my way back to Paddington and a famous burger place beginning with B and the last train home. 

 

Cheers BGC! We'll bring grapes and Lucozade.

And that should have been the end of the night and the tour saga but upon waking the next morning, I had an immediate appointment with the infamous big white telephone, which is unusual for me as if I have a problem with over indulgence, it’s usually an immediate process, i.e. vomming on the actual night, not the morning after. 

Putting it all down to the bad burger I made my way to work via the train toilets and then had several visits to the office loos as well. Things were showing to have gone too far when I ended up not being able to make it in time and (apologies for the rich language) spewed in a little store room which Ed likes to call his “Teddy Bear’s Lair” (honestly, this is true). 

Sent home in disgrace, the rest of the day didn’t improve matters and to cut an awfully long story of aches, pains, lots more vom, chronic dehydration and a visit from the emergency doctor short, Thursday morning saw me in The Royal Berkshire Hospital’s A&E department being treated for Diabetic Ketoacidosis by means of a million and seven different pipes being stuck into various parts of my anatomy, pumping me full of various fluids. 

Friday saw me on a general ward being entertained by my three fellow bed patients, a quite quite mad elderly man who talked constantly to himself and had to be shushed all night by the nurses. Upon being questioned by the doctor as to why he was here he said that he’d “fallen out of a plane and smacked his balls” to which the doctor declared, “you’re fine, lets get you home.” There was also a puffy faced alcoholic who’d taken some sort of tumble. He amazingly turned out to be the same age as me although even my cruellest of critics would say I looked ten years younger than him. Highlight of our interaction was watching him bring up his Friday lunch fish and chips into his lap, an event he then proceeded to tell anyone who’d ring his mobile (which was everyone, every 5 minutes). Finally there was another elderly chap who had short term memory loss, something he never seemed to forget as he told anyone who was either interested or not interested all day long. 

Ah, the NHS, got to love it haven’t you? Still, it made me forget what agony I was in and saw me home for the weekend although I’m not sure Mrs BGC has completely forgiven me for making us miss our Berlin trip which was meant to be my main birthday present. On my return to work Charlie quipped “longest hangover ever that!” all I can say in return is that it must have been the burger. 

Number of Cask Marque Pubs visited  = 180

 

Sympathy number 1? = Mrs GBC screaming that I “have to look after myself” whilst hitting me. So who exactly was in hospital? 

Sympathy number 2? = The “no vomming” sign now hanging on Teddy Bear’s Lair. Thanks guys. 

Next Stop = Liverpool Street Station

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

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

Coventry Street

Come on now everyone, join in…….”Let’s all sing together, Play Up Sky Blues!” No-one? Miserable bastards the lot of you but it is a good way to start this week’s blog story with what has always been my favourite square on the board, named after my home town (or was Coventry named after the square?) Coventry Street. The actual street is rather anonymous, linking the top end of Piccadilly Circus with Leicester Square; you’ve probably walked down it hundreds of times without realising its name.

So it was definitely a square that needed a little more effort than normal both in terms of dress code and attractions. The attractions element was easily sorted as the three nearest Cask Marque pubs to Coventry Street were the Captains Cabin in Norris Street, the Tom Cribb in Panton Street and the Comedy Pub just around the corner in Oxendon Street. And funnily enough the Comedy Pub (geddit, “funnily enough” – “Comedy Pub”) has live comedy on Thursday and Friday nights so it wasn’t much effort to round up the normal suspects and entice them once more aboard the good ship Monopoly with an evening of top notch chortle fun.

Well I say top notch, I’ve got to say that the featured acts for the Friday we went touring I’d never heard of before, but at only a tenner for tickets, who really cares. What was proving to be slightly more problematic was the rounding up of the tourists for the evening. Spiky Haired Ed and Aussie Pete decided to play opposites with Ed claiming he was coming all week until crunch time when he bailed out with a pitiful excuse whilst Pete said with the imminent arrival of baby Pete he couldn’t risk going out until at the last minute his better half, Aussie Nicky, told him he was allowed to go, as long as he drank halves. Charlie and New Guy Micky were as ever reliable but the girls were proving much more difficult.

On the plus side the lovely Mags was free enough to make another appearance on the tour and was even bringing along two of her friends who had nothing better to do. But the girls who had so enthusiastically taken the BGC’s life mantras to heart whilst on Leicester Square were being very difficult to commit to this evening’s square. Alektorophobia Emma, who had even stopped me in the corridor this week to say she’d had a dream about me, “where you were a teacher at my school, taking us all swimming” (I mean, what are the subconscious messages littered amongst that lot!) kept saying how much she wanted to come out but would only umm and ahhh about actually coming. Nicole apparently had done something to her back, although there was more than a whiff of the Jackanory about this story than one might at first believe and Bomber Brenda’s only contribution to this week was to ensure we were all paid! Which I have to say, she did very well and I’m more than glad she did!

But the evening was rescued from the lip of the abyss by Gemmaration Game, who not only was up for another evening of ale-based tomfoolery but had managed to drag two of the other Payroll girls into the affray (more of them later). She was also slightly worryingly enthusiastic about the dress-code I’d set for the evening. Seeing as it was Coventry Street I thought it very appropriate that we all wore something Sky Blue. I’d even gone to the expense of buying a new Coventry City replica shirt (half way through the season, so they were half price) and was more than willing to lend my CCFC hats to anyone who wanted one. As it turned out, Gemma’s sky blue dress needed ironing (now she did mention she had on sky blue pants – she brought this up, not me!) so it was only Charlie who was sporting a sky blue shirt, but he does that every day anyway!

Nice hat Charlie!

 

We emerged from Piccadilly Circus tube station and took the Trocadero exit straight into Coventry Street itself. We then performed that most annoying trick of all tourists by trying to pose a photo next to the street sign and in the process blocked a pavement full of rush hour hurrying people. Just as we were wrapping up the photo shoot I spotted two other chaps obviously waiting for us to depart so that they could get their photo. “Are you just in the shirt cos it’s Coventry Street?” asked one, “well sort of” I explained “but I bet you two are on the Monopoly Tour then?” – “yes” bemoaned the other “we’ve been at it since 7 this morning and I’m knackered!” So I cheered them up by photo-bombing their snapshot – hope they remember their day out!

Ducking down the Haymarket we were soon ensconced in the Captains Cabin, a Taylor Walker pub with nothing remarkable about it whatsoever. I think when the main pub chain Cask Marque pubs of London shared out the pubs, Taylor Walker definitely got the short straw as their places are usually quite ordinary and they’ve taken no advantage whatsoever of their locations or history. The Captains Cabin is a prime example of this as the place, whilst being friendly and well run has all the charm of a B&Q outlet.

Outside the Captains Cabin

 

But talking about charm the ladies tuned their own brand of charm on by not only joining in with drinking beer but upping the half pint measure of last time by ordering pints! In fact the first order was for 6 and ½ pints of Black Sheep bitter and the half was for Aussie Pete. Retiring to a corner table we got to know the two lucky ladies who Gemma had dragged along. Firstly there was Charlene who has a disarming way of talking like someone from Eastenders as if they were in an episode of TOWIE. Charlie seemed delighted that there was a female version of his name joining the tour so seeing as I’ve never given him a nickname I’ll do the same for Charlene. The other tour novice was Sarah-Jane for whom I’d already got a nickname, one that’s been hanging around for some time. She’d once worn a yellow and black stripped dress at work and Aussie Pete had referred to her as “Bumblebee” and even though she’s never worn the dress since and both Pete and I had never spoken to her the intervening time, the name had stuck.

So the first pints were finished, in fact it should be recorded that the girls all finished before us although I suspect this was down to much nose holding and gulping rather than savouring (Charlene slammed her glass down with a grimace commenting “Gawd, my dad would be so proud of me!”) but they were still on board enough to have a second pint (St Austell Tribute) although obviously Charlene’s dad would have been proud enough to let her onto cider now.

Yeah, it's all smiles after the 1st pint - wait until it's your forth!

 

Mag’s friends turned up about the same time as New Guy Micky which meant the tour was well and truly Oestrogen heavy for the first time. I should add that I’d got the scan with the certificate being available just by the bar but I did notice that staff were pouring beer with the swan neck nozzle in the actual beer! They really should go on the Cask Marque Training Course! (see Intermission #4 for more details)

Across from Haymarket is Panton Street and it was there that we found the corner pub of Tom Cribb. A cosy little place, this is a Shepherd Neame pub with the walls littered with boxing related pictures (and the Cask Marque certificate). Apparently Tom Cribb was a famous 19^th century bare knuckle boxer, who when retiring from the ring ran a pub called the Albion Arms on Panton Street. Although the number of the pub was different from today’s Tom Cribb, both pubs are known to have being located in the same place.

Outside the Tom Cribb - Nice hat Charlie!

 

I think Tom would have approved of the pub. Although packed, which meant the tour was spread between three tables, the pints of Late Red were superb. (I think Gemma and Bumblebee were still bravely continuing with the ale – Charlene downing pints of Strongbow like they were going out of fashion)

That doesn't look like cider Charlene!?

 

I managed to catch a few words with Mag’s two friends, Anna-Maria stunningly attractive, Italian with a 80 year old dad who’s a playboy apparently, and Natalie, just stunningly attractive.

Pints of Late Red developed into pints of Bishop’s Finger, a challenging pint for even the most seasoned of drinkers and it was this drink that probably finished me off. We moved next door to the Comedy Pub where I spotted the certificate at the far end of the bar and decided that a photo will have to satisfy Trevor for this one, but the next thing I’m really aware of is drinking Jägermeister shots with Mags at the upstairs bar of the Comedy Pub, which was where their little theatre was.

 

That is the certificate at the end - honestly!

 

It was pints of Grolsch in plastic glasses for the comedy show (if their full and bustling bar downstairs can use glass glasses why in their limited seating theatre do people have to use plastic?) and I can remember absolutely nothing of the comedians. I remember the compare, who looked like a cross between Austin Powers and Rolf Harris and who used this as part of his material, was the funniest of the evening and I can remember going back downstairs after the show and being amazed that Gemma, Charlene and Bumblebee were still there waiting for us. (apparently they couldn’t get into the show – advanced tickets ladies! I did warn you!)

The Comedy Pub’s website promises a late night of disco, karaoke and dancing but it was only Charlie, Micky and I who would descend to the abandoned bar downstairs where no-one was dancing and there was no sign of karaoke. Two or three Gin and Tonics later, one lost key later and one manly bro-hug from Charlie later, I was more than happy to take Micky up on his offer of a sofa for the night. All we had to do was cope with the mad Columbian on the Central Line and cook up our own scrambled eggs…………never defeated, we’ll fight ‘til the game is won!

Number of Cask Marque Pubs visited  = 148

Laugh? = Well not at the comics anyway. Watching Charlene drink a pint of ale, now that was worth seeing.

Is it wise to go on a pub crawl after a brewery visit? = Yes, of course. Did you really expect a different answer?

Next Stop = Water Works