Daly’s, Wealdstone, Middlesex   Leave a comment

dalys-wealdstone

Wealdstone reminds me of industrial towns in the US rust belt, built near — and for — a large factory (Kodak) that is now dormant and doomed to become a housing development. Meanwhile, the town struggles along with a variety of immigrant populations maintaining a psychic distance while sharing the streets, all of this informed by roughly equal amounts of respect and disdain for one another.  That’s the impression I got on the Indian, Pakistani, Polish, and Romanian filled street on my way to Daly’s.

“The door opens and what have we here?” one old fellow at the bar theatrically intoned as I came in a little more than 6 miles into a run through heavy, freezing rain. Maybe they were expecting someone else; as I pulled off the drenched hat and gloves and made my way to the bar, everyone turned away and went back to doing what ever they were doing before I turned their heads.

It is an Irish place, so I guess a pasty white guy like me — especially one with a native-English-speakers’ accent that isn’t English — is always a welcome addition, or at least a tolerated one. The barmaid slipped into Irish which would have made me a bit paranoid except that it might well be the lingua Franca in here.  I really should learn at least the niceties in Irish, so frequently do I find Irish beer shacks in this part of London.

The pour seemed to be about 2/3 lager (the usual choices) and the rest Guinness. I had a little over 5 miles to go to get home and the chill was starting to settle in so after a piss break (the back hall had three more conspiratorial sounding Celtic speakers huddling about), I set back off on the road.

dalys-wealdstone-bar

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Posted January 16, 2017 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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