Camel, Bethnal Green, London (pub #1488)   3 comments

Camel Bethnal Green

 

The Camel may suffer thirst gladly but I am no hump-backed desert dweller (well, not any longer).  I finished my fish feast as I reached the door of the Camel and soon had a pint of god-knows-what as its name was unintelligibly scrawled on a Post-It note plastered on the tap…an IPA, to be sure, but no clue otherwise.  I retrieved my trusty towel from my pack (as per the day’s remit) and immediately concluded that the IPA was called Last Train To Clarksville for no more obvious reason than I had train songs in my head since the Sun.  Then the Infinite Improbability Drive popped back in my head as I remembered that was a Monkees‘ song and Mike Nesmith‘s momma patented Post-It notes.

Camel Bethnal Green bar

This would have been Infinitely Improbably Driven enough for me; but, then a guy passing by my table (with the most amazing dreadlocks) eyed me, walked over, and asked, “are you celebrating the Towel Day, mon?”

“Well…uh…yes, if you must know.”  He sat down and leaned over semi-conspiratorially. “Listen,” he started, looking around like a great secret was to be revealed. “There’s this grand pub a few stops down the Central Line at Oxford Circus that you need to try.”  There was a pause where my reaction was slightly delayed as I realised his accent was much more Jamaica, Queens than the Queen’s Jamaica.  He poked my arm to break the pause and I asked if he wanted to go with me.  “No, but I’ll go as far as the station with you,” and with that I finished my beer.  We walked together to the Tube stop across the Museum Park smoking something wonderful as he told me a tale of the publishing industry.  Rapt, I forgot to get his name or a photo … I might have been high.

Here’s the map.

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