Archive for the ‘Hertfordshire’ Tag

The Oddfellows, Watford, Hertfordshire   Leave a comment


Pub #2145:

We went to Watford for some shopping and, while a moderately successful trip, the cattle that roam malls for pleasure impose a high level of stress on sentient beings (such as, I may incorrectly assume, ourselves) that are compelled only to minimally restock the wardrobe. That done, we opted to take the longer walk to Watford Station for the return trip in the hopes of avoiding more of the big moos that would, almost certainly, use Watford High Street Station.

It was hot out as we made the turn about halfway to our stop and I spotted the Oddfellows. “Buy me a beverage?” I asked and, with a little negotiation, Jackie agreed.

We entered the cramped bar to the right and noted that an adjacent room had small children in it.  “Gadzooks! Avoid that,” I tried to convey with broadly comic eye raises but the bar itself was too crowded in this heat. We found another, to the left as you enter, and were left mainly to ourselves but under the watchful eyes of our predecessors opposite.



Posted August 6, 2018 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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The Rifle Volunteer, Bushey, Hertfordshire   Leave a comment


Pub #2114:

[Still a week behind on this and subsequent write-ups.  Target to catch up around mid-May, fingers crossed.]

So, yeah.  Couldn’t find a place to piss and, as I have the kidneys of a much older man (which is to say with wonder, an even older man) I hurried along to the Rifle Volunteer.  There were wooded-enough places en route, but I was feeling uncharacteristically civilised on the day and just kept dry with thoughts of the desert until I could get there.



Every pub with a tele was tuned to a big, important football match that I just couldn’t give a toss about; this pub was plastered with large screens, everywhere.  Fortunately, the signal kept crashing out, so the most I had to endure was a few seconds every now and again before an error screen and blessed silence would replace it. I suspect sabotage — something like a signal jammer — from one of the nearby pubs, but would be hard pressed to say which is the most likely.  Well done, though, as this gave me a mostly empty house in which to enjoy my pint of cider.



Posted April 30, 2018 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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The King Stag, Bushey, Hertfordshire   Leave a comment


Pub #2113:

One street over from and in about the same relative location on the street as the Swan, you’ll find the King Stag.  It is a much more modern house and roomier but the weather was so glorious I took my beer outside.  Besides, the inside was sterile and soulless.



I got about a mile’s worth of the run in between the two pubs but not enough to break a sweat.  I was clean, and I don’t think I was speaking in tongues.  But, when I came out to sit the couple sitting down wind both scowled, got up, and left.  The girl in the distance went about another 20 meters farther down the street (leaving a few seconds earlier from the other table near me); she squatted on the pavement there, fucking with her phone until I left to return my glass.  She had returned by the time I came back out.  Friendly joint.



Posted April 28, 2018 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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The Swan, Bushey, Hertfordshire   1 comment


Pub #2112:

The Swan is a decent, one-room boozer in what appears to be just a normal terrace house.  It’s largely the same architecturally as it was 120 years ago which is why it got into the Historic Pub Interior registry (and that, in turn, is what drew me to the door).



It doesn’t take long to see the whole place and it would have been crowded with ¼ the population.  I wish we had a local like this.


Pub #2112:


Posted April 28, 2018 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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The Victoria, Bushey, Hertfordshire   Leave a comment


Pub #2111:

I was in Bushey for a run, of course, and because there were pubs to inspect.  First up on this trip was the Victoria, primarily because it is on CAMRA’s register of “historically important interiors.”  It’s nice, I’ll grant that, and the bar is well stocked (several interesting ales to choose from).



Still on my own at home while the wife and brother-in-law plan their mother’s funeral in the mountains of East Tennessee (and, yes, she was dead before they contacted the funeral parlor), my thoughts were with them especially when I spotted the gambling box’s name:



There appeared to be a steady flow of punters; roughly 20 pints and a few odd orders were pulled but there were never more than four of us plus the bartender inside at any one moment.  Order, chat briefly whilst draining the glass, and fuck off…hey!  Victoria customers!  That’s my gig.  Fuck off, VC’s, I’m working this corner.  [apologies to Doug Stanhope for the paraphrase, there]



Posted April 27, 2018 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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Sights around Bushey   2 comments


The Sunday run was short and sweet with 4 pub stops over the course of about 4 miles back-and-forth and round-and-round Bushey, a little village completely covered with pubs a mile or so south of Watford.




The main sights, I guess, were the pubs which are being written-up (or shall soon be). I was impressed with the spiritual life of the town, though, especially the icon of Darrel from the Walking Dead (in drag, above) on the side of the Catholic Church.

The Methodist Church is also odd: look at the steeple and the way they seemed to have built it and then built a brick tower around it about halfway up its full height.



Looking for a quiet place to unload some used beer, I wandered into the town Rose Garden. This was absolutely lovely, but too occupied for my Trump-Russian-prostitute impression. I continued the trek to a final pub (indoor potties!) and called it a day.


Posted April 27, 2018 by Drunken Bunny in Running

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The General’s Arms, Chesham, Hertfordshire   Leave a comment


Pub #2044:

I got a pint of Black Friday in the General’s Arms, a fairly good choice at the end of the run streak not least because it is really fine, dark ale; it is also a beer I first encountered toward the end of Week 1 of the Run Streak this year and, coincidentally, up here in this part of the TfL system. Good stuff.

As I sipped, an old Teddy Boy with sleeve tattoos and a TapOut t-shirt was drinking a White Russian (no straw for him nor the one his missus had). She had gone off to powder her nose or something and left him perusing his recent bed sheet purchases.

I would classify the clientele here, “Local.”


Posted January 8, 2018 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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