The Twelve Pins, Finsbury Park, London   Leave a comment


After the baseball game, we strolled through Finsbury Park to the station.  The weather had been perfect for baseball but, as Jackie (who was nursing a hangover) had pointed out, our poor planning meant that we watched with absolutely fuck-all appropriate beverages.  I pointed over to the Twelve Pins and used the vendor voice to intone, “Cold Beeeeeee-ERRR!”

It was packed inside just before a televised hurling match…the woman off to the left in the picture below (in the maroon-striped yellow hurling jersey) and her girlfriend headed in as soon as the first paddle-off started the match (or however the fuck this starts…I know as much about hurling as I do Gaelic football).  Still, the front garden easily competed with the Victorian interior for lively people watching and J’s head seemed to clear with the beer and a codeine.



Posted August 9, 2017 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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