Paddington Packet Boat, Uxbridge, Middlesex   Leave a comment


Out for a twilight run from Hillingdon Station to the canal, the Paddington Packet Boat was too big and imposing to pass by, so I was forced to go through it.   Despite the enormous floor space, the twenty or so punters were all clumped together in a circle about 8 feet in diameter right in front of the bar (making it a bit difficult for me to pass by and inspect the wares on the ale taps).  Typical Fuller’s ales, but this was a much more pubby house than most of the Fuller’s places in the region.

It was also boiling hot inside so I went out to the garden to take in the cool, evening air and found yet another cluster of blokes isolated in a very small patch of the huge open space…weird.


Posted October 22, 2016 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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Boat, Alperton, London   Leave a comment


Cool evening, tonight, made all the more brisk by the canal side location of the Boat.  This bit of Wembley seems more settled than Sudbury or central Wembley and this spare, quiet lager bar seems to suit the personality of the area.  Instead of sport on tele, Diners, Dives, and Drive-Ins was on…I hate that guy but he would probably be good to sit around drinking and eating bar food with much like the residents dotted around this bar.




There are shisha for those so inclined and the sun setting on the modern tower blocks make the street side garden beguiling (except for the wind, cold, and shade).

A second show started about making Mexican food. I already planned chili con carne for Saturday but now I want to try something more ambitious. Only somewhat related … my quote of the day is: “Trump can’t be a sexual predator; he isn’t even Mexican.” Only partially related to that, check out the bells I spotted at Rayners Lane station on the way over here (this is for the readers that have really juvenile senses of humour):



Update: Black Cab driver from the area puts his 2 pence in, gains my trust in his opinion:



Posted October 18, 2016 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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Red Lion, Iver, Buckinghamshire   Leave a comment



The Red Lion in Iver is a Chef & Brewer pub; so, as it is more focused on food than drink, my dear bartender was stuck humiliatingly behind a maître d’s podium.  I waved off her furtive glance at the seating chart and said, “bar, only, love.”

“Have you been running or is it raining?”

“Yes,” I said and went back to choosing a beverage.

“Sorry, a logic miscommunication on my part. Which?”

“Oh,” I replied thinking that this was spectacular, “both.”



I paid for my cider and my change included one of the new, plastic fivers which I immediately inspected. “It’s real I assure you.”

“Oh, that’s not the issue,” I said as I thrust the note back her way with my thumb under the AK52 prefix of the serial number.  A waitress completed my thought: “if it’s AK47 to start then there are idiots out there that will buy it for £50,000.”  I nodded.  “Some jackass bought one at auction for 80k last week even though, legally, they are worth precisely five quid.” {UPDATE: bought but never paid for, story here.}

“Excuse me a mo, I’m just going to inspect the safe,” my hostess informed us. Smart woman. I hope she gives me a cut if she gets lucky (although getting a cut whilst getting lucky seemed so much more a Whip & Collar thing before that house turned out so bland).



The rain ceased as quickly as it had started.  Autumn is still like that despite the trees only now turning colour a month and a half late.  The sun continues to set earlier every day and soon I’ll only be able to inspect nice country pubs like this on days off.




Posted October 17, 2016 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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The Whip and Collar, Iver Heath, Buckinghamshire   2 comments



Mapping out the Sunday run, I amused myself noticing how Love Lane turns into Swallow Street (look at this link to the map and you’ll notice they, appropriately enough, parallel Wood Lane). This seemed àpropos of nothing until I spotted the neighbourhood pub, the Whip & Collar.  I reckoned it was 50/50 that it was much more “vanilla” than the name suggested since the location was out beyond the suburbs even bordering on the wilderness; but, I’ve been surprised out in the country before. The Black Horse in Great Durnford and the New Inn in Winterbourne Monkton being quite remarkably BDSM friendly houses and quite literally in the well lubricated ass ends of nowhere.




No wi-fi so I couldn’t ask for the safe pass word. No music so I couldn’t request Venus in Furs or anything by Throbbing Gristle. I’m pretty sure this is simply a sports (non-water type) bar. But, at least the Doom Bar was good and I didn’t wake up in the basement (closed for refurbishment) getting what I think of as the E2R treatment.




Posted October 17, 2016 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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Crooked Billet, Iver Heath, Buckinghamshire   Leave a comment


The Crooked Billet is an unremarkable, family friendly Hungry Horse Pub/Restaurant on a roundabout nearer to Slough than Uxbridge (but neither of which is worth bragging about).  They have several real ales and they are cheap and if you don’t mind eating near a bunch of fat people they’ll serve you portions of food large and [ahem] nutritious enough so that you can become one of them.

I hopped the fence on my way in and out; I had a notion that the customers they are fattening up couldn’t do that.  My grandfather raised beef cattle, and we owned a hog farm way down at the edge of the swamps so I am familiar with the minimal fencing needed for livestock.  This place was creeping me out.





Posted October 17, 2016 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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Lodge Tavern, Ealing, London   1 comment


The Lodge was there.  It has all the charm of a bar near a large airport without the excuse of being near a large airport.  If I had known there were other choices closer to Ealing Broadway tube station where the evening run was finishing, I would have gone to one of them instead.  Like I said for the Havelock Tavern, sometimes you get lucky.  This was not one of those times.



Posted October 17, 2016 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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Greystoke, Ealing, London   1 comment



The sun was setting as I reached the Greystoke and despite the cold outside it was boiling hot and unbearably humid within.  There were two cider choices and I went for the one that WASN’T 8.5% abv as I still needed to get groceries and set up the barbecue for supper and didn’t want to fall into the fire later on.  Me, my cider, and my sweaty clothes went out to the rail-side porch to think about how to complete the evening’s run without getting lost in the dark.



Steam was still riding from my shirt and I had to remove my glasses.  I was blindly contemplating the lights of this quieter section of Ealing by the North Ealing tube station as some guy appeared a couple of picnic tables away.  “I like your shirt,” he commented; I was wearing a bit of United Auto Workers kit — acquired from an old union buddy back home — with a ‘fight for justice’ theme to it.  I put my glasses back on and looked to see what shirt I had on then to assess the deliverer of the most awkward chat up line I have heard in years.

The resulting convo was actually very good although he seemed to feel the need to explain how things work here at every turn for the first ten minutes before realising a lot of what we were discussing were things I was both passionate about and more knowledgeable of than him: workers’ movements and rail systems around the world.  This latter imbalance was strange in first instance because he actually works for Network Rail and in the second because despite being a native involved in the rail industry he never uses the rail and doesn’t know much about the destinations it can take you nor the various rail vendors that have fucked up the system since privatisation.

I lingered over this conversation longer than I might normally do but eventually the chill caught up to me and I downed the dregs of my glass.  With any luck, I could hit one more bar near Ealing Broadway before making my way home (hopefully by 9 pm).


Posted October 16, 2016 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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