I was sitting on the bus to the station when a dapper old chap sat down across the aisle from me. He indicated my straw hat and suggested it wasn’t summer, and I was being optimistic. He was wearing a tweed Trilby. I pointed at the beautiful day outside the bus. He nodded and confessed he had considered his choice of hat.
I was headed into London and the Met indicated it was going to be sunny all day. I figured my choice of headwear was correct. And, apart from a very mediocre attempt at rain, the Met was right.
Ages ago, the Weasels organised to visit the British Museum exhibition on Stonehenge. When it became obvious I would still be in the UK, I was invited to join them. I declined the exhibition but suggested I join them for lunch afterwards. Which was why I was seated in The Ship Tavern at 12:30, enjoying a crisp Brixton pale ale and reading.
At the bar, I asked for a beer, and the pink-haired woman drawing the pint asked me if I was up to anything fun today. I said I was meeting friends for lunch in her pub but was early so was treating myself to a pre-beer beer. She laughed and showed me to the rather long, reserved table.
We’ve been to the Ship Tavern before. It was after the Vikings exhibition at the British Museum. The pub is tucked away at the confluence of two tiny alleyways, just across the road from where Mirinda first worked in London.
While it’s not on any real tourist trail, it does attract a lot of people. It has to be mostly locals and accidental wanderers because it’s definitely off the beaten track.
Anyway, when I sat with my beer, there were three bar staff and a couple eating lunch. And that was it. By the time the Weasels arrived, the place was packed. I’d managed to deflect quite a few people from sitting with me at the very empty and inviting space.
When I asked what the Weasels thought of Stonehenge, there was a flurry of opinions regarding the amount of assertions there were. There were also quite a few, so-called microliths, which Darren had a problem with. I tend to agree with him that it’s impossible to guess what, if anything, these tiny stone chips were used for. Personally, I reckon they are spoil or bits broken off old tools.
Importantly, lunch was delicious and suitably devoured by us all.
After a few beers, it was time to head for The George down opposite the Royal Courts of Justice. It’s quite the walk but tends to help lunch go down and the beer to settle ahead of the next onslaught.
We bade farewell to Lindy who, as usual, had to dash off to meet guests for her B&B. She’ll be sorry she missed the fun and games to follow.
On the way down from Holborn, we ran into a bunch of women out on a hen’s night. The bride was suitably attired and the rest of the women were dressed like extras from Mamma Mia. Lorna told them it was John’s birthday (which it was) and asked if they’d pose with him. There was a mad rush to grab him and surround him for a series of insane photographs.
Apparently, this is not the first time John has been grabbed for a photo op by a rampaging hen’s night. I don’t know what happened the other time but when asked about this one, John said that the bride was rather slippery.
The wedding isn’t until June, so John told her she had plenty of time to change her mind.
Eventually, and after about 14 corners, having insisted it was just around the next one, we arrived at The George only to find it crowded. This is not unusual as it’s a very popular pub as well.
Darren and I wondered who the clientèle is. Locals, I suggested? They didn’t appear to be tourists, but no-one had any idea where ‘locals’ would live. It was so crowded, we only stayed for one drink.
As we left the George, Bev and Jon took their leave. The plan was to continue on to The Coal Hole, another Weasel regular, but we were bought up short as Darren spotted what he thought was a pub just around the corner. It was called the Temple Brew House and what a brilliant find!
While it’s been operating since November 2014, the barman told us that they’d only recently re-opened after Lockdown. It had caused them almost to go under. We said we were glad it didn’t and that we’d definitely be back. Mind you, the place was so packed, I can only think they’ll be going from strength to strength now.
Eventually, we left for The Coal Hole but didn’t last long. As usual, it was rammed full. I wonder if the Coal Hole is ever empty. It feels like we always try but never have a drink there.
Actually, that’s an exaggeration. We have had a beer there after the Globe a couple of times, but it’s always been crowded. We decided to try The Ship and Shovel, a pub I’d never been to but will definitely return to. And we almost didn’t go.
As John, Darren and I stood outside wondering which pub to try next, given The Ship and Shovel was packed, we realised that Lorna and Anthea had vanished. In fact, they had grabbed a table in the pub which had suddenly, miraculously, become available.
John said it was a regular haunt for him and his squadron buddies back in the day and, in fact, still these days when they meet up for their regular get togethers.
Eventually, though, it was time for us all to slowly drift off in our various directions home. I decided to walk across Hungerford Bridge rather than get the Tube. I think the Thames always looks lovely at night.
It was a lovely day, finished off with a pleasant train and bus ride home.
I feel it would be remiss of me not to mention the F*ck Putin Vodka.
Signs dotted around The Ship Tavern advertised this delightfully packaged brew and suggested having it with tonic, lemon and blueberries. It’s been created by Pocket Full of Stones and, £1 from every sale goes to local charities helping with the humanitarian crisis in Ukraine. I wanted to have one, just to show solidarity, of course, but they’d sold out. I guess that’s a good thing.
Jon took the above photo which explains why he’s missing. I stole it from Instagram because, not being on Whatsapp means I don’t get the latest snapshots taken. Still, it doesn’t look too bad for being a screen grab.
