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
