Archive for the ‘London Irish Bars’ Tag

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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Barrett’s, Harrow & Wealdstone, London   Leave a comment

Pub # 2038:

The run from Watford was pleasant enough (despite the wind), and I soon arrived at Harrow & Wealdstone Station, the final checkpoint.  The Station clock showed 1:30 pm and I reckoned I could dawdle another ¼ hour so I went to Barrett’s for a pint.

I have wandered into Irish pubs on three other occasions when Celtic were battling Rangers in more of a sectarian clash than a Glaswegian football derby, so it was good to have on neutral colours.  Of course, with the darts on the other telly you could claim allegiance to any of the players, draped (as they tend to be) in Christmas packaging; more entertaining than the 0-0 footie clash, I am always happy to watch a few minutes of Phil Taylor‘s work.



Not exactly a broken man on a Halifax pier (nor even nearly legless), nonetheless I left with this song wormed firmly in my ears:


Posted January 1, 2018 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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Mannion’s Prince Arthur, Tottenham Hale, London   1 comment

Pub #2026:

I had marked Mannion’s Prince Arthur on the map before the run, when I thought I would be doing only one or the other of the Overground or Victoria branches that pass nearby, mainly for the unusual name.  As I approached from the west, it appeared to be boarded up.  Shit.  Not surprising, but shit.

I continued around the bend in the road toward Tottenham Hale Station and a backup plan pub when I spotted the non-shuttered windows and the open door on the north face.  Hooray!  I’m saved.

Inside, it was quite the Irish bar with the accent spewing forth and the horse racing on tele and the waymarker to someplace in Eire.  It’s quite an impressive house and I reckon the second beer makes you a regular.  Everyone there continued their conversations without me but all wished me a good day as I left.  Very much an Irish bar, indeed.


Posted December 10, 2017 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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Whelan’s. Uxbridge, Middlesex   Leave a comment


Pub #1960:

I had a half hour to kill, Friday, before Jackie arrived in Uxbridge for our wine tasting event. There’s not really much to occupy that short amount of time, there, so I sought out a pub (of course) finding Whelan’s — surprisingly, one that had not previously featured in this Endless British Pub Crawl.

Inside, it is frighteningly similar to what passes for an Irish-themed bar in the States. I understand they do folk music from time-to-time, but I fear it would be a sad imitation of the real thing (or is that te rail ting?).




Across from me, a pair of lads in their late 20s was having what was probably an after work pint. One of them was wild-eyed and probably coked up or just excited by his partner’s companionship. Either way, he was fairly loudly explaining everything he knew about stout which was, essentially, it takes a while to pour properly. Grimacing with each sip of his Guinness, he happily — and unconvincingly — proclaimed his life-long love of the black stuff.

I finished my house ale, a viscous brown soup that tasted strongly of linseed oil and floor polish (which are not bad things, in my assessment) before the tops of the lower-case lettering on their Guinness pints were exposed. They were definitely in the right bar. Me…not so much.


Posted October 23, 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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