The Stag, Acton, London   Leave a comment


Pub #2079:

Not quite a mile from the depressing Eagle, I turned momentarily southward to reach the Stag.  There were hipsters inside, sure, but they were the faux working-class variety (I’m guessing they do something vaguely resembling labour for a living); overall, however, it seemed a good local for the good locals that linger despite wave-after-wave of gentrification.  Most of both varieties of regular turned to evaluate my entrance as I opened the door to the last, little bit of Delbert McClinton’s When Rita LeavesI was sold on the place, at that instant.




I got a lager and a table and consulted the maps. I was kind of stoned from a bit of a bud I had squirreled away until I set it alight on the most recent leg of the run so my conversations were rudimentary the way they ought to be on a short visit and not the way they usually turn out; unfortunately, I can’t provide any detail.  I remember the bar being busy and the music on the juke machine being, erm, good but odd choices.  For instance, as I left, Dr Hook lamented that

The operator says forty cents more

for the next



Good bar.



Posted April 3, 2018 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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