Archive for the ‘London Irish Bars’ 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.

 

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Posted August 6, 2018 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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The Wishing Well, Acton, London   Leave a comment

 

Pub #2127:

What would you wish for? About 2/3 through the run on a humid and quite warm afternoon, I had already been disappointed by the dearth of beer or, more to the point, open drinking establishments. I wanted a nice, cold beer and a continuation of the quality entertainment I had so far been granted.

I emerged from the urban decay around the Wormwood Scrubs buurts a little beyond East Acton Station along the A40.  Not that I was catching the Tube, yet, but I knew the Wishing Well sits there and, with any luck, Number Three would be the charm. And, it was.

Inside, it is fairly blokey in the way that some pubs can be: loud talk about tits and ass only muted when someone sporting tits and a cooter wandered within listening range at which point eyes averted to study the carpet patterns. Lovely carpet, by the way, but I didn’t point that out to the lads at the next table. Worth another visit when some sporting event is on the box, but I needed to get to Perivale for some groceries and the train home so I drank up and was back on the road.

 

Posted May 9, 2018 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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The Fleadh, Preston, Middlesex   Leave a comment

 

Pub #2115:

Zipping downhill toward Preston Road Station and on to Wembley, I spotted the Fléadh off to my left and decided to take a beer break.  Once they recovered from the shock of a stranger appearing at the bar, sweaty and American and all, the group under the Indian Premier League match went back to loudly explaining things they didn’t understand to one another.  This was beautiful to behold and I wish I had taken notes for specific details.

There was order, in a sense, but it seemed to me that one of the gents would give very questionable details on a given topic and then be met with a counter argument on a completely unrelated subject.  By the time the talking stick (I didn’t see one but it would help explain the protocols in place) returned to the first person in this description he would be on a completely different subject.

The TV I was under had on some clay court tennis with exceedingly attractive Soviet women batting the ball to one another…sweating and making borderline obscene noises with each volley.  One of the Algonquin Roundtable came over and stared at this for an uncomfortably long time considering his tackle was closer to my head than my beer was.  Careful not to speak lest I get sucked into their realm — the world of the Clavins — I just nodded and tipped my beer his way when he grunted in my direction.  I had places to go and things to do, though, and soon moved on my way.

 

 

Posted May 2, 2018 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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The Colby Arms, Gipsy Hill, London   1 comment

 

Pub #2100:

“Izzat Mickey Rat?” I asked the young woman who broke from playing pool with partner and kids to come to the bar.

“I think it is but only because someone told me.”

Kids, today, I thought.  “Oh, aye, it was quite a thing when I was a wee un.”  I had apparently turned into a leprechaun while I was sitting there.

The Colby Arms is sort of a reverse TARDIS in that it seems a lot smaller inside than out and everyone in the bar was piled up at the end near where I sat.  Hurling was on tele, my sweat was drying from the most recent leg of the run, and the Guinness was perfect.

 

 

 

Posted April 16, 2018 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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TJ’s Sports Bar, Harrow & Wealdstone,   1 comment

 

Pub #2066:

Day two of the Red Cross training in Harrow let out at 4:30 pm so I took the opportunity to do a bit of a run in the waning daylight.  North to Harrow & Wealdstone, I found the bar I was targeting boarded up so continued until I found a replacement, TJ’s Sportsbar.  A friendly, family-run place undergoing a bit of an overdue freshening up (new carpet in the hallway, several new pool cues, a spot of paint working its way around the lounge, etc), it has darts to the back and billiards near the front door, and sport on the tele.

I’d probably have much more to say should I have stayed longer than a pint.  One old guy at the bar seemed bent on belligerence (despite no one paying any mind to it).  There was an obstacle course of tea cups being used to strategically weigh down bits of the new carpet.  A darts match was not going well (only 1 out of every six throws even hit the board).  Worth revisiting, for sure.

 

 

Posted February 24, 2018 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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Maggie’s, Kensal Rise, London   Leave a comment

 

Pub #2048:

“Been jogging?”  I smiled and nodded at the barmaid (who, I assume is Maggie).  “Good on ye,” she approvingly commented and the run was never mentioned again.  She took my cash for the Fosters and I sat at a table which I hadn’t noticed was under the telly showing the horse racing.  At various points during my residency, everyone seemed to be staring at me which was odd.

Busy, the drinks all seemed to be either Guinness, Carlsberg, or Fosters.  The twisted metal railing on the ornately carved oak bar were nice features and there are couches and comfy chairs scattered about.  This is about as fine a watering hole as you could hope to find around these parts.

 

 

Posted January 20, 2018 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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Doolan’s, Canons Park, London   Leave a comment

Pub #2041:

I had skipped a planned stop at an Irish joint earlier when I ran up on the more traditional looking (from the outside) Honeypot a little earlier in the run.  Doolan’s loomed just before my turn toward Canons Park Station and, taking my bearings for the rest of the jog (which would resume a pint past sunset should I stop), I headed in for a Guinness.

The world-weary landlord got up from his perch and did his duty then went back to stare at the bar near two of the other three denizens.  Occasionally, one or the other of them would chance a topic and all would be animated for two — sometimes three — sentences.  I’m used to (and in a lot of ways prefer) this sort of bar behaviour and spent my time there examining the photos and adverts on the walls.  There was a charity collections box for bootleg Gummy bear knockoffs next to my pint but I didn’t want to ruin my supper.

Like sand through the hourglass, the pint called time on me and I said my thanks as I headed back to the loo.  The house is a lot bigger than it looks, though, with a function room the depth and breadth of the main bar just beyond the toilets.  I should’ve walked around some.

 

Posted January 5, 2018 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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