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.

Super Tax

Can the last tour have really taken place on the 5th of May? Can it really have been 3 weeks since we last went out for a drink? Could it really be that no-one reads my emails?

Well the sad truth is that's exactly right, although some of the delay in getting this particular square finally completed wasn't all down to a lack of enthusiasm to venture out once again and had a lot to do with scheduling it to revolve around someone's busy diary and permission to go out being granted from their mum.

Just some of tonight's tourists. The biggest tour ever. Come on Jesus, snuggle in - we don't bite!

 

For those who have lost the plot as to where exactly on the board we are as we limp like a wounded lobster round the final squares of the game, we've hit the penultimate square, Super Tax, that dreaded penalty square that separates the two most expensive properties and leaps up and grabs you just before you hit Go.

Readers may remember that we did a tax square once before when we visited Income Tax although that now seems many moons away in the dim and distant past that a much younger BGC and an infant Spikey Haired Ed completed 3 pubs along the south bank of the Thames.

Determined not just to visit another HRMC office again I was casting around for different inspiration for completing the Super Tax square when Big J suggested that perhaps the "Tax" could be short for taxidermy and maybe there was a pub with a massive stuffed hippo in the front bar. Well they may not pay their own taxes (topical joke there) but the evil people at Google do provide the possibility to type in the words "pub" "taxidermy" and "London" and discover that there's a place just north of Moorgate called The Jugged Hare, which not only is Cask Marque accredited but has a whole back bar full of stuffed furry things. So it was only left to suggest a date and as Big-J had come up with such a sterling idea it would have been most churlish not to deny him the opportunity to attend especially when he had a conference appointment at "The Brewery" which is literally just next door to the pub.

More about "the Brewery" later......

But if they say that absence makes the heart grow fonder then not touring for so long must make the taste buds thirstier as when the date finally came around there was a huge gang full of tourists ready to hit the road once more, and like a massive dysfunctional family we eventually stepped out on a humid Tuesday evening to sample again the delight of  ye olde London Town. You'll pick up who was actually there as we proceed but just a quick mention of a new face in the throng in fresh faced Nick who shall be known as "Jesus Christ Fenton". (This was Charlie’s idea, not mine.)

The Globe

 

As previously mentioned, The Jugged Hare is not far from Moorgate station so I'd arranged a pub right outside this place that we could visit before we would move on to the joys of the stuffed vertebrates. Moorgate is also not a million miles away from our offices so we took the option to walk there rather than risk the vagaries of the Circle Line during rush hour. The Globe is a big corner Nicholson’s pub and one that Buddy Rob is most familiar with as it's a pre or post match watering hole when's he's going "up the gunners". He promised the place would be rammed and his words proved sadly prophetic even though I thought that a Tuesday evening might promise to be less busy.

By the time the longer than expected walk got us there, we ended up arriving in separate parts as Charlie and Jesus had strode ahead whilst the rest of us waited for menu-collecting (don't ask) and cash point using. Aussie Pete was also making his own way to meet us there as he had visitors over from down under that he was bringing along on the tour.

The Cask Marque certificate nailed behind the bar at the Globe.

 

As previously noted the place was quite full with drinkers spilling out onto the pavement and it took far too long to get served. When our group finally got the attention of someone (after a tetchy exchange between the Irish barman and me) it was 4 pints of Old Man from Long Man Brewery, 2 halves of Old Man, Becks for Ed and bottle of Peroni for Buddy Rob. The Old Man didn't go down well........amidst comments of how it smelt, tasted and even looked like an Old Man, the bitter coffee roast wasn't winning any fans amongst the girls. Personally I thought it to be a fine brew but I'll give credit to Nicole, Brenda and Gemma all finishing their pints even though Gemma looked to be winning a Somerset gurning competition.

Mmmm, I love Old Man (Men)

 

The Cask Marque certificate was easily spotted but sadly looked to be nailed to the wall behind the bar and due to my earlier disagreement with the barman I didn't feel like asking to see if we could scan it. Aussie Pete, who duly arrived later along with Aussie Nathan (happy birthday) and Aussie Jodie (not happy birthday) did manage to get it scanned, no doubt by sweet talking anyone who would listen. Due to a very cramped position in the bar, texts from Big-J asking if we were on our way to the Jugged Hare yet and surprisingly no-one wanting a second pint of Old Man, I gathered the troops and left.

BGC outside The Brewery

 

The route to the Jugged Hare took us past Big-J's work location for the day, The Brewery which is a conference cum events cum hotel centre built on the former premises of the Whitbread brewery. Apparently it’s still possible to see some of the old brewing paraphernalia and this was sort of confirmed by Big-J who'd enjoyed talks and lectures in rooms like "Upper Sugar Room" and "Mash Tun".

Unfortunately for us there were no talks or lectures but just the 50 or so metres to the Jugged Hare, an impressive pub perched on the corner of Chiswell Street and Silk Street. The pub is owned by the ETM group and readers who remember far more than is probably healthy might recall that we went into a sister pub of the Jugged Hare, the Angel and Crown during the Trafalgar Square night. Interesting to note that the beer on that evening was called "Jugged Hare".

The stuffed exhibits at The Jugged Hare

 

Tonight I couldn't see any Jugged Hare beer but there were brews from Adnams and Otter, so I plumped for Otter Amber which was the lighter, fresher beer I choose to try to win the female taste buds back on the side of beer. Although I can't say I totally approve, the beer was served in chunky iced tankards, produced from the fridge and whilst they might have had a detrimental effect on the beer, they certainly made for a impressive sight. Ed choose to eschew the Otter and instead plumped for an interesting pint of Adnam's Spindrift which I'd never heard of before, whilst Rob bemoaned that fact that we were already on the second pub and neither of them were selling Bud.

The Otter going down better than any Old Man.

 

By this time everyone had either arrived or been met up with (Big-J it turns out had walked down to the Globe, missed us, then had to walk back again) and we totalled a  very fine 14 which is a tour record for the most people out on any night.

And talking of impressive the Jugged Hare is certainly that. The stuffed animals I've mentioned but seeing the whole walled bank of them is certainly eye catching if not a little creepy. As I said to someone that evening, there's no way I would come down to the bar in the dark to lock up! Again I couldn't see the certificate for love nor money although once more Pete ended up finding it whilst the rest of us scanners all missed it.

Artillery Arms - Almost exactly the same as it was a year ago!

 

The next stop was something of a "closure" journey for me. Casting your minds back even further than Trafalgar Square or Income Tax, the very second square I did, Community Chest #1 saw me enter the Artillery Arms on Bunhill Row, sneakily take the scan and then leave without buying a drink. I did have the excuse that I was on my own and feeling just a little bit lonely but I've felt guilty about this ever since so here was my opportunity to make amends. Especially as the Artillery Arms is such a lovely pub. It’s a Fullers place which immediately suggests a certain standard but this one has a brilliant traditional little centre island bar and a cosy historical feel to it. It also has very friendly barmaids were seemed to be quite interested in what we were up to and recommended Fuller Red Lion when we visit Mayfair.

So finally I paid my dues and I bought my beer there which was a superb pint of HobsonsMild which Charlie and I voted best pint of the evening. For the others I choose Discovery apart from Ed who had a bottle of Honey Dew (memories of Income Tax again) and poor Buddy Rob who was having to make do yet again with a bottle of something that wasn't Budweiser.

Those who have visited this pub will know that it overlooks the well known Bunhill Cemetery and research had told me that as well as being home to quite a few graves of the famous and well known two of its most renowned residents are Daniel Defoe and William Blake. Ever the one for a dramatic piece of historical interest I thought that an open air recital of a suitable Blake poem might be a interesting item in the evening's proceedings. It was certainly more suitable than the main discussion which centred around whether the word "mott" was more appropriate than the word "gam" (you had to know the context I guess) but unfortunately my best laid plans were scuppered by the big silver padlock adorning the cemetery gates.

Still, never mind, I pointed out the obelisk that is Defoe's grave and promised them all that Blake's is right next door. I'd love to be able to explain that as a scholar of classical poetry I was already familiar with a suitable poem that would be suitable for the occasion but I'm afraid that if I’m to be truly honest it was Mr Google again who assisted me to find "The Little Vagabond" via the words "Blake", "Poem" and "pub".

And over there is buried my dignity. Ed ducks for cover.

 

I'll let you make of the poem what you will, I still don't think that it rhymes properly but maybe I'm missing the point. The tourists who all had to put up with my dulcet tones labouring through it all seemed to think that it did rhyme so maybe I'm just a poor judge of what makes a good poem. Anyway, here it is in all it's glory and I'm presuming that as Blake's been dead for 185 odd years I don't need to pay anyone any royalties.

Dear Mother, dear Mother, the Church is cold,
But the Ale-house is healthy & pleasant & warm;
Besides I can tell where I am use'd well,
Such usage in heaven will never do well.

But if at the Church they would give us some Ale.
And a pleasant fire, our souls to regale;
We'd sing and we'd pray, all the live-long day;
Nor ever once wish from the Church to stray,

Then the Parson might preach & drink & sing.
And we'd be as happy as birds in the spring:
And modest dame Lurch, who is always at Church,
Would not have bandy children nor fasting nor birch.

And God like a father rejoicing to see,
His children as pleasant and happy as he:
Would have no more quarrel with the Devil or the Barrel
But kiss him & give him both drink and apparel.

Had we been able to walk through the cemetery as planned we would have found ourselves on City Road and could have walked past Finsbury Square Garden to the final pub of the evening. Alas we rather boringly had to retrace our steps slightly but still managed to find our way to the Flying Horse on Wilson Street without too much distress.

The Flying Horse

 

It was swirly patterned carpets, a hideous laminate bar and TV blaring with Aussie Rules football that greeted us as did the two smiley barmaids who both originated from south of the equator. Aussie Nathan seemed to get on best with them both especially as he ended up with this classic pub photo, certainly one to impress the boys with back home. I had to make do with the pints of the aptly named Flying Horse ale to impress the tourists with which can't have been that good as as soon as I'd looked away for a minute the ladies were all taking big swiggs of vodka based party drinks in preference to anything barley based.

Who would think that this happy chappy would end his birthday collapsed in a pile of puke on the tube?

 

We did however break our certificate duck of the evening, well everyone but Pete that is, by spotting the certificate rather crudely blu-tacked behind the bar. The barmaids though were more than happy to pull it down and let us scan it for posterity.

I think it was a combination of Brenda and Rob who suggested tagging on one final pub for the night. It must have been Brenda's thirst for Bombardier and Rob's thirst for Budweiser that did this, but Brenda promised that the Red Lion, just a little further down Eldon Street would at the very least not have unfathomable sport on to distract us all. I must say even my eyes were constantly wandering to the mullet headed muscle bound Gibson lookalikes were running around chasing a bouncing ball.

Seriously pubs, just because you have a TV in the bar, it really doesn’t need to be on!

We found the Red Lion as promised (even passing a Fuller's restaurant looking place (TheFleetwood) which doesn't seem to appear on the Cask Marque map) and although it was a pretty bog standard Taylor Walker pub, it really didn't have any distracting sport on.

The drinks orders really spiralled into chaos now as I joined Big-J in a cola based beverage, Charlie had a nasty cider and lordy only knows what the rest partook in. Rob did finally get his bottle of bad though so to that extent all was finally right with the world and not at all taxing.

 

Number of Cask Marque Pubs visited = 42

Can you belly dance? = Gemma can. BGC can't.

Will the finale attract more tourists = We might have to wait a bit to find out.

Next Stop = Mayfair

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

Oxford Street

Sometimes I plan the tours for several days beforehand, sometimes I don’t.

Oxford Street was definitely in the latter category. I’ve already got an outing for the final Community Chest square planned for the weekend so it was imperative that we did get Oxford Street out of the way this week, but when I checked the map there was a cluster of 6 pubs at the Tottenham Court Road end of Oxford Street which was just far too tempting to ignore. So how to squeeze in a 6 pub crawl in the middle of the week without rending the older ones in the group (i.e. everyone but Ed) unfit for work the next day.

The answer as a particular annoying advert might say was simples. Join Aussie Pete on the halves!

But even though it was a mid-week and a last minute organised tour there was still a healthy number of attendees, including a couple of repeat offenders: Back down for another bit of London education was Munchkin Steve and also joining on a repeat appearance was Big-J. We also had the pleasure of New-Guy Micky who hadn’t been on the tour for a couple of weeks. Apart from that it was just the usual suspects of people with nothing better to do than follow me around drinking beer; Aussie Pete, Spiky-Haired Ed & Charlie.

As previously mentioned, we were going to start at the Tottenham Court Road end of Oxford Street and then work our way west by way of the pubs that lie south of Oxford Street, in and around the area of Old Compton Street. Now as any good sex-tourist knows, this area is renowned for being the centre of the Gay & Lesbian scene in London as well as having its fair share of sex clubs and bars.

Micky and Pete enjoying the lamps

 

But careful not to be deviated too soon, the tour was remaining true to its rules and at least starting on Oxford Street. Just round the corner from Tottenham Court Road was the first pub, the aptly named The Tottenham. This Nicholson’s pub is actually a bit of a gem, with lovely mirrors, lamps and ceilings, there also seemed to be what appeared to be huge tapestries decorating the walls.

The pub was also, quite surprisingly, not very full at all. Space was easily found at the bar; the only downside was that it was right next to the only mad bloke in the pub, who needed both the barman and Big-J’s help to identify his own drink and his change which was spread all over the bar. 4 halves of Andwell’s Spring Magic for Pete, Charlie, Big-J and I and 3 halves of various lagers for the others were ordered and these along with a very easy scan of the Cask Marque certificate (hanging just behind the bar) were obtain and finished in what seemed like an unseemly short amount of time.

The Crown & 2 Chairmen - Ignore the road sign - You can enter

 

Dodging across the rush hour traffic to the other side of Oxford Street, we ducked down Soho Street to Soho Square and then cut through to Dean Street, the location of the next two pubs. The first was the strangely named Crown and Two Chairman, a funny looking corner pub that been painted in a very unhealthy looking purple colour. The feeling inside was slightly reminiscence of the Crown & Sceptre from last week with a young trendy crowd where coloured hair was very much the flavour of the evening. Again space at the bar was easy to come by and 4 halves of a beer called Equinox (about which since I’ve not been able to find any more information) were ordered for the ale drinkers followed by 3 halves of Veltins pilsner for the lager imbibers. 

 

Mention here must be given to the barman who was sporting a most magnificent plaited beard and shaved and tattooed head which gave the feeling that you were being served by one of the dwarves from The Hobbit. Rather fearing that any approach for the location of the certificate might result in him reaching for his handy axe, I left this part of the evening to Aussie Pete. But alas even with Pete doing his best Gollum impression (this is a full time job by the way) the poor chap couldn't locate the thing, even after conferring with colleagues and searching everywhere from the stock room to the toilets. 

 

Stupid light - Outside the Nellie Dean

So unfortunately our good run of scanning was at an end, but it was to soon start again as we made our way back toward Oxford Street and the second pub on Dean Street, the Nellie Dean of Soho. Again another corner pub but this time painted a much more jovial and cheerful bright red. It was a cramped little place so it was rather more of a squeeze to get served but soon the halves of Betty Stoggs were flowing along with the halves of Becks. As previously alluded to, the certificate was freely available as it was framed and stood on a window ledge which meant that we could pick it up and pass it round the scanners amongst us. 

Again though there's not a lot more I can really say, the one effect that drinking halves were definitely having was the attitude towards our stays in the pub. It felt like there wasn't any point in taking off your coat before the drink was gone and it was time to move on. 

 

The Green Man - I've seen better examples.....

Mooching around the corner we cut through Fareham Street & Hollen Street and eventually found our way to the Green Man, an M&B pub located on Berwick Street. Again this pub was half empty but whereas I'd put the lack of crowds in the others down to slow midweek trade, this time I wonder if the pub was just a bit crap. Firstly when the complete ale selection is a choice between Fuller's London Pride and Greene King's IPA you really need to question the pub's attitude to variety. And the barman completely alienated me by committing that cardinal sin of serving someone else before men out of turn. Once retired with our drinks we found a spot by the wide screen TV which was on for no-one's benefit and at least took an easy scan with the certificate hung by the entrance to the bar.

It was rather a relief to be drinking just halves in this place because it allowed for a swift exit just after Charlie and I noticed two of the mealiest portions of chips being served up ever. So here’s a question for you Mr M&B – How come you’ve so obviously invested in a huge beer range for places like the Crown & Sceptre, the Crown & 2 Chairman (just down the road for goodness sake) and the other Green Man in Fitzrovia but this place is almost a beer desert? 2/10 could do better – see me! 

 

This is the Coach & Horses - Honest

Again it was a swift trip around a couple of corners into Poland Street which was where the final two pubs were located. Firstly there was the Coach and Horses, a Greene King pub certainly smarter than the Green Man, and whilst they weren't going to win any prizes for their beer range they at least had something out of the ordinary on, Greene King's new beer called Jailbird.  

The certificate was once more highly visible hanging on the wall by the bar so between handfuls of Big-J bought crisps (no Monster Munch unfortunately) the deed was once more done. 

Final stop of the evening was just over the road at the Kings Arms, a mid terrace pub with lovely leaded glass windows at the front and a huge gay pride flag waving proudly above. Now I'm not going to say anything crass about the clientele inside just suffice it to say that there was an abundance of beards and for a pub crowd that was 90% male, not a sniff of a testosterone laden threat in the air. The barman was also the friendliest of the night asking who was on the halves amongst us when I (with agreement from the others I might add) upgraded us all to pints for the final visit of the evening. It was Reverend James by the way.

 

The King's (definitely not the Queen's) Arms

There was just time for one final scan, once more the certificate being easily findable (2 chairman aside we're doing really well on the self-finding and self-scanning at the moment) before dashing off for a group McDonalds and a rather early train home. 

So we'd easily done the 6 pubs and by sticking to halves I don't think any of us were going to wake up with sore heads but I wasn't the only one to feel slightly uncomfortable drinking half pints. I don't think there's anything macho about drinking pints and I've never bought into the “X number of pints per night” measure that some blokes seem to measure their virility with, but there is a genuine case to be made for the right measure for the right beer. British bitter at the end of the day is a fairly low alcohol content drink and whilst I know the days of it being drunk to replenish and replace lost water for manual workers having just finished a shift down the mine/forge/docks/factory (choose your favourite) is also over it's still a drink you should be able to take a hearty slurp from and still feel you've got plenty more in your glass to go back to. You just don't get that with halves. 

Number of Cask Marque Pubs visited  = 165 

Half Pint? = Short Changed!

Home by ½ 9 = Just in time for Derek – Possible the best comedy in a long time.

Next Stop = Community Chest