Second Best Date Ever   Leave a comment

The blog title for this entry alludes to what still is, far and away, the ideal date mentioned a few years ago.  Still, get yourself one of these and fit a strobe light in your bedroom.

Expect more of my “woke” credentials as the blog progresses.


The Defector’s Weld, Shepherd’s Bush, London   Leave a comment


Pub #2071:

I didn’t think it could happen, but I found a bar that is worse than Brew Dog.  However, Shepherd’s Bush is such a mixed bag (see below) that the Defector’s Weld was an almost inevitable tragedy.  While Brew Dog is run by an American outfit to prefabricated American (let’s call them) “standards,” Defector’s Weld does the same job if you substitute “hipster millennials” for “American.”  Highly disappointing.


Here are my rankings for this pub and the 9 nearest ones written up so far.  The top 3 are far and away superior to any of the others (a hint if you are planning a Shepherd’s Bush pub crawl).  I would avoid the bottom 4 unless the White Horse or the Flock make you nervous (in which case, those shitholes are probably your sort of gaff).

1. The Shepherd and Flock (sublime)
2. The White Horse
3. The Stewart Arms
4. The Queen Adelaide (adequate, avoid QPR game days)
5. The Central Bar (a ‘Spoons, so you know what you’re getting)
6. The Pocket Watch
7. The Sindercombe Social (putrid)
8. The Green
9. Brew Dog (American)
10. The Defector’s Weld (dregs)


Posted March 10, 2018 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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This is What Happens to Russian Spies Who Talk   Leave a comment

Trump associates, take note.

I’ve got this feeling that the timing and setting of this assassination attempt (perhaps successful, by now) in Salisbury was meant as a message sent to witnesses in the FBI probe.  “We can kill you anywhere, anytime,” is what it tells us, even if you’ve holed up in a bucolic, small city in the Wiltshire countryside; just think how much easier it would be to do in a big town like DC or New York City.  The prospect of a lengthy jail term for obstruction will have to be weighed against this new — yet, somehow nostalgic — Eastern option.

It would help explain Nunberg’s meltdown on the news circuit yesterday.


Posted March 6, 2018 by Drunken Bunny in Obits, Politics

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The Gate Clock, Greenwich, London   Leave a comment

Pub #2070:

Like the tourists, I wandered around Greenwich with a map rendered useless by the fencing erected for The Big Half (also mentioned in the post on today’s non-competitive run).  I eventually emerged across from the Gate Clock pub and negotiated the cattle-crawl to reach the bar.  There, I was served a pint (maybe more) in a gigantic plastic cup and found my way without a map back to the window to watch … nothing.  Just an endless supply of blue-shirted race volunteers.

Bog-standard Wetherspoon pub, this one, but it was serving at 9:15 am (or 3:15 if you go by the clock on its wall).  You might not even notice that it is a pub, but for the early drinkers.



Posted March 6, 2018 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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Westferry to New Cross, DLR and Jubilee, TfL Run Project   2 comments


The only TfL run of the week, last week, was Sunday morning’s failed attempt to finish the Jubilee Line after finishing a pesky section of the DLR.




I took the Tube to Bank then switched to the Docklands Light Rail. A lot of runners (with their numbered bibs) were riding the Central Line in both directions and also changed at Bank but I was happy to see they were heading elsewhere. I saw even more of them on the opposite platforms up to Westferry Station where I alighted to start my own run.  Along the way, there seemed to be even more of them out warming up and swarming into Poplar Station.





As noted, they were going the other way; but, it soon became obvious I was tracking the course of whatever race they had signed up for.




These stations have hidden signage, but I found the Blackwall Station  marker in the photo later on.





After the snow and bitter cold, this was a beautiful morning for a run. I just wanted to stay ahead of the pack.




I never found a sign for East India Station, instead confirming its identity by crossroads on the map (a sort of cartographic dental record).



East India


I’m always flabbergasted by the stories of Victoria Cross (and, in the States, Medal of Honor) awardees.  Lance Corporal Charles Graham Robertson VC MM story is worth a quick read, either at the more detailed link or on this memorial at the station.




I planned to follow Bow Creek to the right of the big bend, seen here at low tide. There was construction hoarding blocking the way and I had to double back and follow around to the left, instead.




This detour brought me to the bridge to nowhere.




Canning Town Station splits inside to DLR and Underground bits, but from outside it registers the end of my DLR journey for the day as I left on the long stretch to North Greenwich station.



Canning Town




Many sights along the way … like an old hospital’s remaining façade (thematic accompaniment to the earlier bridge?)




The Thames Foot Tunnel is the way off the Isle of Dogs:



North side

In side

South side


The Greenwich Meridian as I crossed into the Eastern Hemisphere:




Yet more signs of the run appeared … shit. Finally, I asked a volunteer who identified it as “The Big Half.”



Even at high tide this pier seems too high:




North Greenwich Station — with the Millennium Dome adjacent — finally appeared. I retraced my steps, sort of, back into Greenwich, proper.



North Greenwich


As I mentioned earlier, my intent was to finish the Jubilee Line today but Sir Mo and my shitty internal compass were having none of it. I struggled to find my way through the barricades separating civilians from racers and, in addition, I struggled to find the Gate Clock pub (write-up soon) where I hoped to take a brief break before doing the last 2 miles or so to Canary Wharf.



Instead, I convinced myself to go in precisely the wrong direction. I should have realised I was delving deeper into the South when I was menaced by this marionette with a knife in one hand and a petrol bomb in the other. This was probably the worst Cirque de Soleil character yet:



The system map is down to one or, more likely, two runs to completion:



Weather   1 comment

The gnomes and the bunnies stoically face The Great Blizzard of 2018:



Posted March 2, 2018 by Drunken Bunny in art

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The Asylum Tavern, Peckham, London   Leave a comment


Pub #2069:

It was quiet outside and everything seemed sealed up tight.  I thought the Asylum Tavern was closed — not shuttered, but perhaps with later doors than my mid-afternoon trot could coincide with.  I wandered around a bit for some photos, then tried the door.  The place was packed and Bob Dylan was turned up to 11:

…threw the bums a dime in your prime…

At that, a half-dozen of the fellows crowded around the bar — and yours truly — all sang/yelled out, “didn’t yoooooooouuuuu!”



The landlady had her hands full but I made eye contact and slipped off to the loo for a quick slash.  Quite quick…the Bob-head was only up to the vacuüm of his eyes and discussing the possibility of a deal.  She spotted me again and came over.

“I thought I’d lost you.”

“Wishful thinking, darling.  May I get a pint of cider, please?”  I took my glass to the back side of the bar where several gents were congregated and who met the specifications for (but not the dress code of) the Fox on the Hill a few miles back.  Even with the loud jukebox (the Stones were telling us it might well be the last time), there was eavesdropping to do but not very good eavesdropping…I heard a household maintenance story three times as new mates joined and subsequently left the pair you see above.




Posted March 1, 2018 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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