Sometimes you’re running along and out of the corner of your eye you think you see something so clearly that you eventually circle around to see what it REALLY was. This time, it REALLY was a shop called Butt Brothers … they have Halal meat, by the way. What were they thinking?
Denham is fairly friendly but why wouldn’t it be. Affluent, largely youngish-but-middle-aged, lot’s of them seem to be early retired…must be nice. I ran up from Uxbridge after my brief stop at the Crown and Treaty and found one fantastic beer on the pump here at the Fat Cow (although I suspect there must be more, maybe around the dining area side of the bar).
There was also a territorial little terrier at the bar and an absolutely bomb proof larger dog splayed out in front of the door. I like pub animals, and if you aren’t going to have a pub cat this is the sort of alternative you should go for:
Everyone seemed to know everyone else. A car pulled into the driveway across from me and the guy at the table nearby staggered over; “I’m just having a little drink with my new neighbours here and I can’t remember their names. Would you like to come and have a drink and help me extract that, again?” The passenger accepted this invite and soon the driver, the cartoon drunk’s cousin (whose name he also couldn’t remember) soon came over, too. The rain returned as well, so I had to leg it.
What passes for a heat wave here continued with temperatures in the mid-thirties Celsius and even a couple of thunderstorms. I was about halfway through the day’s run to Denham when the Crown and Treaty beckoned with a shady porch and cool pint of Doom Bar.
The house looks a lot bigger from without than within and, with only 4 people standing around, shooting the shit, it seemed a lot bigger inside than it actually is. I think it is the location: there isn’t much parking and it is a nightmare to get to as a pedestrian.
Worthy of a stop in, though. The wood paneling inside was originally removed from the pub to decorate some offices in the Empire State Building then returned as a Coronation gift in 1953. The pub was also used in a failed attempt to reconcile Charles I and Parliament in 1645 (hence the name).
Of less historic importance, this is the 46th of the August 2016 Pub Per Day Challenge entries.
The bar was rammed but the staff efficient and soon I was out in the warm, evening air with my London Pride. Speaking of London Pride, the cockney rhyming slang labelled all over the bar walls was far more than trite and tired (but they also had a signed picture of Shane Ritchie on one wall so maybe it was all meant to be ironic).
There’s a long building bordering the garden that looks like an Army barracks but I think it is just part of this being a motel at some point in the past. The web site suggests they are expanding the dining area so maybe that’s where it is going.
Uxbridge is kind of urban: densely populated, full of offices and industrial sites, overrun with traffic. Over the ¼ mile southward walk from the Hillingdon Hospital it morphs into a semi-rural idyll. As a result, it seems apt to describe the Crown as a “country pub.”
It used to be a Fuller’s pub but now it is individually owned by a marvellous host I was only able to spend a moment with. No matter, the garden beckoned where I met “The Girls”:
I had a Fuller’s Seafarer’s, a fairly standard blonde ale which went well with the properly warm summer evening (gorgeous out today, cloudless and 30°C/85°F). I’m still managing a pub everyday during the August 2016 Pub Per Day Challenge which has a daily running component so the mileage is mounting, as well; there’s a stop at The Hut ahead of me then the run home should be about 5½ miles.
Finished the daily run and wandered the length and breadth of Uxbridge looking for a chippy to satisfy my craving for fish. No luck on that front but did line up a number of promising pubs in town (albeit a lot fewer than I thought there would be).
First up was the Metropolitan which is much more a lager bar than an ale house despite the external appearances and the ancient layout of little nooks and hidey-holes. I had a Brains Bitter which, if you are only going to have one working hand pump in the house, is a worthy placeholder and settled into a nice, secluded window only to be assaulted by the most insipid, manufactured selection of pop music piped in over the sound system. Dreadful…the Met giveth, the Met taketh away. Let’s call this one a draw.
Like it says in the title, this was August 2016 Pub Per Day Challenge entry number 43.
Looked at the map before leaving the flat for a Sunday morning run and found my way to the Greenwood Hotel just fine, and, in fact, found my way from there to my first turn after. Then, it went tits up. A 7½ mile planned run became 12½ in reality and the only up side is I got to see a lot of new territory and piece it together with some now familiar bits.
The target I DID hit was the Greenwood Hotel, a house I tried to get to Thursday evening but got lost on the way (yeah, there’s a theme).
The space is stunning but it should be having just reopened in July after six years closed and an incredibly detailed and expensive refurbishment. I would have thought the manager of such a fantastic venue would take more pride in it, though: gorgeous though it was, the mirrors behind the bar looked like dogs had been dragging their noses across and the floor was stickier than a late 70’s porn theatre floor (don’t judge me…when you’ve got a projectionist’s union card and debts to dangerous people, you do what you got to do).
But, the Lambeth Walk Porter was sublime and the traditional breakfast the filthy sod running the place SHOULD have been tucking into (AFTER dragging a mop across the floors and giving the bar glass a wipe).