The Great Eastern, Isle of Dogs, London   Leave a comment


Pub #2138:

I left the pub (that was supposed to open at 10) still waiting for the doors to open at 10 after 10, and walked 25 minutes to the Great Eastern which is supposed to open at 10:30.  “Are you open, yet?” I asked the bartender who was smoking in the doorway with a guy in a high vis vest.  She nodded and started to put down the ciggy; “no, no, take your time…I’m going to have a wee look around, first.”  They thanked me and returned to the chat.

There were already several punters in the pub having breakfast-like meals.  Turns out, this is also a hostel and bleary-eyed youths emerged regularly from (and scuttled off back into) a door leading to the residents’ areas.



I returned to the bar and asked for an Old Rosie cider.  “Nice start to the morning,” she intoned with an almost cartoonishly eastern european accent.

“Yeah…’start,'” I laughed.

“Would you like a receipt?”

“No, no thank you.  I don’t really want any record of this behaviour.”  The irony that this is now enshrined on the interwebs (and will be seen and reviewed, eventually, by literally tens of people and dozens of data mining robots) is not lost on me.




Posted July 2, 2018 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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Running Month in Review: June 2018   Leave a comment


A colleague introduced me to a lab visitor as a runner at the beginning of June.
“No, sorry. I’m afraid I gave it up.”
This news seemed to shake his grip on all that is holy in this world. “Really? When?”
“A couple of days ago.”
“Oh, so just a break, then?”
“No. When something is hurting you that much, no matter how deep your love for it you have to walk away.”

Persistent pain and weakness in my right leg led me to accept, after the loop run through South Harrow and Rayner’s Lane on June 2nd, that a period of enforced rest coupled with some targeted physical therapy was long overdue (my GP, also a keen runner, agreed and gave me the proper names so I could say more than, “hurt here, make stop, please”). It appears, more than anything, to be a strain or tear of the TFL combined with Iliopsoas Syndrome and a tight IT Band (ITBS).  Now 4 weeks into an initial 6 week recuperation, I can report….

The convalescence has also put a major dent in the number of pub visits I have to report as well as the amount and quality of the sightseeing available to me.  Hopefully, I can slowly return to running after Bastille Day (that will be at 6 weeks), but the tendon may need 12 (and maybe up to 26) weeks of low load conditions.

Pub visit write-ups are really taking a hit.  Of the first 94 pubs this year through the end of May, 88 were associated with one run or another; none since then has been on a run and as a result I can only hit a new pub if it happens to be nearby.  I guess my liver and kidneys are getting a well deserved rest, as well, but fuck ’em: we’ve been at war against one another too long for this truce to last.

Stats for June: 9.8 miles in two runs and approximately 45 hours of stretching performed along with a far too gradual shift in diet to complement the change in exercise regimen.


I am depressed:


Posted June 30, 2018 by Drunken Bunny in Running

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Isle of Dogs Mudlarking   1 comment

I took a day off to go mudlarking but on the day my heart really wasn’t in it.  Perhaps the hangover had something to do with it.

Nevertheless, it is always a pleasure to walk the Thames foreshore between tides.


This stretch, near Sir John McDougall Gardens, was littered with bricks…and, for some reason many, many tampon applicators.  This Southwater brick was probably part of the sewars.



There were many of the Haunchwood bricks around.  This brick with holes was the start of the metaphorical finds on this journey (MF1):



(MF2) It is good practice, due to the speed at which the water levels change with the tides, to scan for escape options when on the foreshore.


(MF3) Prayer may not help, but what can it hurt?



(MF4) I can’t help it.  I actually pondered what it would take to get this back on the road, again.



(MF5) Arrived at published opening time and waited 10 minutes more.  Then, I walked to another pub, 25 minutes away, that was due to open in 20 minutes (write-up soon):



There were some really nice slabs of marble but only fragments of anything recognizable as part of a tombstone.


Posted June 28, 2018 by Drunken Bunny in Tourism

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Duke of Edinburgh, Brixton, London   Leave a comment

Pub #2137:

After a walk down Ferndale Road past a bunch of rail archway sheds with rastamen in front, barbecuing something divine, I found a small pub front with two, large “urban” fellows in front (Freudian slip: I originally typed “felons” instead of “fellows”, and while both might well be correct, I meant “chaps”).  I stopped to snap the photos you see here and one trundled my way.

“It’s not you,” I said, pointing at the camera then at the sign, “but the Duke.”

“Yeah, man, that’s good, that’s good.  You should go inside and get a half pint of cider and check out the garden.”  Not the response I expected, but I told him that had always been something like the plan for the day.  “Ask for [some gentleman’s name].”  I headed in and the behemoth followed close at my heels.


About 20% of the massive beer garden at the Duke

“Oi, [gentleman’s name]! Get this man a half of cider.”

“Don’t listen to him.  Pint of this,” I pointed at an ale tap.

I moved on to the garden to ring my Brixton buddy and see if he had time for a beer break in his busy, entrepreneurial day.  He arrived soon and we caught up on our respective states of affairs since my last trip to God’s Own Land South of the Water.  He’d been to Ibiza for a week and had much better chat to offer than I did as a result.



Another quick round and we caught a bit of the Iceland vs Nigeria match.  “What strip is each team wearing?” I asked.  Not getting the old school joke in post-race Brixton, he told me who was in green and who was in blue.  “That’s probably the best way to tell them apart,” I agreed and offered him my green bush hat, y’know, in case the two of us might be similarly mistaken, one-for-the-other.

“You know, just a few years ago this was a Crazy Golf.”  I looked around the massive garden.  “With dinosaurs and windmills and clowns.”

“Ugh.  Clowns.  Is it better with all the gentrifying settlers piled in?”

“It can get pretty clique-y on the weekends.  That’s one reason I stick to the Hoot.”  I took his point but couldn’t really linger longer, our business done for the day and rush hour tube crowding soon to peak.

Oh…Transport for London has been putting up some PSA posters with fantastically retro design elements.  “Loose Lips Sink Pints,” is the take home message of this one found in my Tube carriage:


Posted June 26, 2018 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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Seal of the President of the United States   3 comments


“Then you ask why I don’t live here

Honey, how come you have to ask me that?”

quoth the Bobhead, an actual Nobel Prize winner


UPDATES:  Someone made a t-shirt out of this.  Additionally, we used it as an element of one side of our protest placardsStill not my best work, but the kids seem to like it.

Posted June 22, 2018 by Drunken Bunny in Made Me Laugh

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Mabel’s Tavern, King’s Cross, London   Leave a comment


Pub #2136:

After a plate of hors d’oeuves at the lunch break of the mini-conference at the Crick Institute, the need to rinse the pasty nibbles from between one’s teeth was irresistible and a pub was sought out.  On the trip to the Rocket — the most obvious choice — Mabel’s appeared one street out-of-the-way and looked a bit quieter.  It was.  Mind, it was full of suits but my collared shirt served as enough camouflage to blend in.

It is relatively small and dark and, dare I say, classy and the lunch crowd all seemed there for lunch.  Perhaps as recently as a year ago the lunch crowd would ingest mostly fluids but the world has gone mad; so much so that Kim Jong-Un commented on it to Donald Trump earlier in the day (and, I hope this, on its own merit, never ceases to sound insane, either).


Posted June 13, 2018 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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Deuce Bag IPA   Leave a comment

Looks like the summer drinks are here, this one for the DeuceBag in everyone’s life:

Posted June 6, 2018 by Drunken Bunny in Beer, Made Me Laugh

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