The Hungerford Arms, Whitechapel, London   1 comment

Pub #2063:

It was about 6pm and the crowd in the Hungerford Arms was entirely my age and up, save for the bartender. A very local crowd and I imagine I was the first interloper in ages and, having stopped in nearly at the end of the day’s run, probably the first healthy middle-aged man ever.

“Ginger cow?” asked the bartender. The customer repeated, I think, his order in garbled noises resembling human speach. She looked around desperately at the shelf of mixers he was pointing at. “No, I don’t think we have any ginger cow.” Another punter leaned across and set her straight. She smiled broadly and handed the old misanthrope a bottle of Canada Dry Ginger Ale; money changed hands and she turned to me.

“Did I hear you say you were out of Ginger Cow?” I asked with as much disappointment as I could manufacture. “Okay. I guess a pint of Foster’s, please.” There was that broad smile again. Good. Nice to fit in quickly.

A fellow wandered through and stopped by. “Would you pour me one of dem when you have time?” he asked in a Windrush era accent. She flipped a glass and got the first pour of his Guinness started, then sat the 2/3 full glass in front of me to settle. We spoke for a minute then some rave music hit the jukebox and someone commented on it at which point she danced a bit before settling onto a stool near another guy at the end of the bar for a chat.

Nearly finished with my beer and observations, I realised the Guinness had not only settled but was looking forlorn. I put my hand over my glass in the universal sign language version of, “no more for me, love,” raised the index finger of my free hand to catch her attention, then steered it toward the orphaned stout. She mimed a grimace and rushed over. Halfway through topping the pint, she yelled over to the regular, “do you want this Guinness or what?” We make a good team.




Posted February 21, 2018 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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One response to “The Hungerford Arms, Whitechapel, London

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  1. I used to work at the Guinness social club and it was a bit like that but with many, many 2/3rds at various stages of settling in various ‘favourite glasses’.


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