Anchor, Tring, Hertfordshire   2 comments

Anchor Tring sign

I pulled on the door of the King’s Arms and found it locked (open at 5:30…shit).  Busting to pee and with no alleyways nor bushy hedges to obscure my shame, I did the weak bladder dance through the neighbourhood until I spotted a pub sign not too far away.  Dashing into the Anchor, I stopped for a moment at the bar but realised it was going to take more time than I had left and I ran into the loo.

“Christ, that was close,” I said as my stream dented the wall, then, to my new neighbour, “Sorry, thought I was going to wet meself.”
“It’s not so bad, that. Can help keep you warm.”
“For a while, I guess.” It was a long piss and we wound up chatting a bit about America and Australia. Weird.

 

Anchor Tring garden

I got another Fuller’s beer, this time the Summer Ale which was miles better than the Oliver’s Island at the Robin Hood, earlier.  Again, fresh air beckoned and I joined the few smokers outside (this pub was packed like I expected the Robin Hood to be).

One guy had smuggled in some sandwiches and was taking shit from a buddy for having it on brown bread.  “Brown bread?  Perhaps her ladyship would like some tea cakes and a white wine spritzer?”  Lovely pub…I’d come back in a heartbeat.

Oh, right…this was pub #1400.  Here’s the map link.

Anchor Tring

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Posted August 31, 2015 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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