Archive for the ‘Pubs’ Category

Tenpin Acton, Park Royal, London   Leave a comment

 

Pub #1959:

The planned route of the run from the Belvedere looked like it was going to be dense with pedestrians until well after Ealing, so I tossed my map and tried to make my way to Perivale via dead reckoning.  I had a vague remembrance of a couple of pubs I had not yet visited but never found them and soon realised I was farther north and east than either of these would be.  Instead, I opted for a bowling alley bar stop at Tenpin Acton.

I love bowling alley bars. I was in a bowling league when I was a kid and, playing on an adult team on occasion, could usually get served in the lanes where we used to roll. Jackie and I have had fairly nice experiences drinking in bowling alleys over the last 3¼ decades despite her complete aversion to bowling. I always make a note of any lanes near our travel destinations just because they tend to be cheap and open later than other pubs occasionally.

In Athens, Georgia, there was no bar in the bowling alley and the 30 seconds it took me to confirm this were the only 30 seconds I ever spent in the place despite living in Athens more than ten years (so far). Bowling is like darts: without alcohol, there really is no point to the activity and it is hard to even consider the place a bowling alley without a bar.  Tenpin Acton at least has a bar and it has bowling lanes (outrageously expensive to use, but it has them). But, I was absolutely horrified at these other attributes.

No bowling shoes: one woman was bowling in heels and another in Ugg boots. Rental bowling shoes and the fungal infections that come with them are part of the experience that should not be compromised.  Shame.

At least one lane was set up with bumpers instead of gutters. No shit…bumpers. And, the idiots using this lane still couldn’t break 80. AND, they weren’t drinking (or, maybe this is because they weren’t drinking).

The beer was cold and cheap. Not cheap enough to return, though.

 

 

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Posted October 19, 2017 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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The Belvedere, Acton, London   1 comment

 

Pub #1958:

With my exploratory procedure completed on Tuesday, I took Wednesday off as a regular vacation day and dropped my kitty off for some kidney and thyroid tests.  Once I had him safely back in his home, I went for a bit of a run starting at the White City tube station working my way across to Perivale (the super Tesco adjacent it is better stocked with international bulk foods than any other shop nearby).  The plan was to hit the pub near the Queen’s Park Rangers’ stadium but it was closed (in spite of published opening times to the contrary).  I found another candidate at the edge of Shepherds Bush and Acton but it is under refurbishment and not opening for another 2 weeks…shit.  Reckoning I would find something if I just continued through Acton or even Ealing, I plodded on.

The Belvedere looked a bit too nice but I took a chance since there was a derelict or mental patient — perhaps 2-for-1 — seated out front.  The bored and inattentive staff served me a boring and not-quite-chilled lager and I settled in to watching some foreign football and listening to some soul-suckingly dismal pop music.  No wonder these kids seem to have no desire to live.

On the way out, some gypsy woman asked for a cigarette.  I shook my head and continued to arrange my backpack.  “You don’t smoke?” she asked while trying to position herself more toward the flap and zipped openings of the bag.

“No,” I said whilst twisting hard away then back so the bag smacked her thieving hand.  “What the hell do you think you’re reaching for, motherfucker?”  Prepped to continue by then, I walked a couple of steps to negotiate the crowded pavement with her shadowing me until I slid through a narrow opening between some mums-with-strollers and headed on my way.  Fucking trash.

 

 

 

Posted October 19, 2017 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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The Queens Arms, Kilburn, London   Leave a comment

 

Pub #1957:

I hadn’t noticed the Iranian community around Kilburn before, but the Queen’s Arms seems to even be a Persian pub.  The bartender was Iranian, the family (of at least very familiar with one another)  table that continued to grow in population my entire stay was Iranian, the nibbles available were Iranian … marvelous.

 

 

Having just finished a fairly disappointing kebab, I opted for just the beer and internet option (wi-fi password = ilovebeer).  A bit posh and restaurant-centric for my tastes, the Persian twist makes it worthy of an evening visit sometime.

 

 

Posted October 19, 2017 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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The Cock Tavern, Kilburn, London   1 comment

 

Pub #1956:

Contrary to what Google suggested when I looked up the Cock Tavern later, it is not YET permanently closed.  A little after 1pm on Tuesday, it might as well have been, though.

 

 

It’s an awesome building, cavernous but with a lot of character.  Likewise massive, but lacking any trace of personality, the bartender seemed to be waiting for something other than bar customers and was preoccupied with his phone and the races the other two attendees were watching.

I was still hoping for food and there were posters up everywhere for specials.  “Kitchen’s closed,” was the response to a menu request.  It’s just as well, I’m sure.

 

Posted October 18, 2017 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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Travellers Rest, Kenton, Middlesex   2 comments

 

Pub #1955:

After the surprisingly unarousing trip to have my butt violated (while the NHS paid the costs!), I was surprisingly hungry and in need of fluid replacement therapy.  The Travellers’ Rest was only a short walk away and I decided to give it a go.

 

 

Unfortunately, I arrived before the kitchen opened and was forced to share this hotel lobby-cum-bar with the only other non-staff occupant … a decrepit old man working on his fourth Guinness of the morning.  This visit was kind of my past, present, and future condensed into a hoppy pint of ale and a discussion of the Jeremy Kyle show.

I moved on, soon after, to seek solid food and rest.  Ironic, considering the pub name.

 

 

Posted October 18, 2017 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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Captain Morgan’s, Hayes, London (and Sunday 13.5 mile loop)   Leave a comment

 

Pub #1954:

A fall-back week for running finished with a 13½ mile loop out to Hayes via the canal paths, an event-free and visually uninteresting run through the industrial and residential landscape of northwest London:

At the midpoint of the journey, Captain Morgan beckoned and I answered his call.  Inside, I found a packed but fairly standard London Irish bar where I’m sure I was the first stranger to show up in ages.  Eventually, the shock of not-just-an-outsider but one drenched with sweat in a Beatholes t-shirt and {gasp!} and an England Cricket cap.  In fact, I’m not sure which was the bigger offense: England or cricket.  I took my Bad Apple cider to a seat near the billiards table and watched as the crowd reanimated after my disturbing entrance.

 

WhatPub is usually effusive about the history behind a pub.  Here’s the Captain’s  listing (as of 15 October 2017):

About the Pub:

A pub since at least 1992, possibly even 1985.

So, it isn’t just me.  The professionals at this game have fuck all to say.  Decent boozer, but I bet it takes a few visits (or a later one in less of a state of decrepitude on the visitor’s part) to feel welcome.

Posted October 16, 2017 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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The Fisherman’s Arms, Harlesden, London   Leave a comment

Pub #1953:

Busy day, Saturday.  Edie has been a bit ill and, since he’s taken such good care of me in the past, I took the ailing kitty to the vet (his first trips on the Tube since it was nice out and I didn’t want to spring for a taxi) then got him started on a course of treatment ahead of some tests next week.  He always wants to go out but when we get home he clings close to me as if to say, “is that the sort of indignity you go through every time you go out…the poking, the prodding, the lubricated glass tube up your bum?”  Hard to tell him that sometimes it isn’t lubricated.

 

 

Then we went to Shepherd’s Bush to an Arab shop that has a lot of Middle Eastern stuff we crave.  Our favourite butcher is there, too, so we stocked up then Jackie headed home on the Tube and I ran out to the canal path and worked my way back with a stop for a pint in Harlesden at the Fisherman’s Arms.

The pub visit was a bit odd.  The neighbourhood is kind of Portuguese-heavy and except for taking my order and asking if it is really hot out, not a word of English was spoken.  Just the barmaid and, I suspect, the landlord and someone else who works there but just in to booze her afternoon away.  It’s a lovely house, though, and I’m guessing the food is delightful (and if it isn’t, there are a number of Portuguese cafes and restaurants within a short hike).

So, essentially, this was a box-ticking exercise but not just a matter of duty.  The Fosters (no real ale or anything more interesting than Sagres) was cold and the selection of tequila was dangerously tempting.  Remote from the house, I probably won’t visit again unless with someone walking that section of the tow path; but, that’s definitely not because of avoidance.

Posted October 14, 2017 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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