Archive for the ‘running’ Tag

The Oyster Rooms, Fulham, London   Leave a comment


Pub #2132:

Sunday morning run took me through Hammersmith too early for a beverage there so I continued to Fulham Broadway, arriving in the Oyster Rooms at 08:58 am.  “Is the bar open?”

“In two minutes,” and I put in my order.  The beer was placed before me and the waitron stood poised before the register for the next 15 seconds before we could make our exchange.



I had beaten the rains and slipped past a bunch of singing football fans in front of the building.  The fack are they DOING here, I wondered.  The season is completed, surely.  Oh, well, at least they weren’t aware of the Wetherspoons upstairs; quite a civilised refuge this visit.




Posted May 29, 2018 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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The Bull, Gerrard’s Cross, Buckinghamshire   Leave a comment


Pub #2130:

I found my way through the ancient lobby of the Bull and carefully weaved a path past taffeta dresses and mourning suits with lapel carnations. I was now another 1/2 mile farther along on the run from Hillingdon than I was during my pint stop at the now-much-more-modest-seeming Apple Tree.

“Wedding?” I asked without response. I tried again, “funeral?”

“What do you mean?” The bartender asked. I took my beer out to the far end of the expansive garden to minimise my offense to the celebrants/mourners.



Posted May 22, 2018 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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The Apple Tree, Gerrard’s Cross, Buckinghamshire   1 comment


Pub #2129:

I didn’t hold much hope for the Apple Tree based on its web focus on dining and, upon arrival, the decidedly upscale environs. But, as I dragged my sweaty ass up to the bar I realised that — at least late Friday afternoon — half the receipts are down to various members of the building trade.



I took a Doom Bar out to the shade of the eponym and surveyed the assembly. Yup. Mostly labourers and skilled tradesmen, a few locals in middle class drag, and a handful of Americans who I assume were in the area (Gerrard’s Cross is a few miles directly above Windsor) to watch the semi-successful actress marry the unemployed ex-squaddie who still lives in his mom’s house.


Posted May 22, 2018 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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Off The Hook, Kidlington, Oxfordshire   Leave a comment


Last Thursday was another unseasonably warm and sunny one in Oxford so I headed up the canal path for a bit of a run.  The podcast I was listening to ended at about 40 minutes and I took the first road thereafter into Kidlington to find some nourishment and a bus back to the labs.  The piece of cod from Off The Hook with just a little more than a splash of vinegar and no additional salt was precisely the right answer to the quick lunch question.  Yum.


Posted May 21, 2018 by Drunken Bunny in Fish and Chips, Food

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The Market House, Brixton, London   Leave a comment


Pub #2128:

It was balmy Friday evening in Brixton and a brief run followed by a brief run-into with an acquaintance left me thirsty.  “You goin’ that way, mate?  I’m barred at all those.”  We agreed to meet closer to one of the not-in-central Brixton drinking establishments next time and I wandered through the market for supper fixings then spotted the Market House across the way.

A fellow former-American, he has lived in the neighbourhood the last four decades and, through a mutual friend, discovered some mutual interests…pints, music, livin’ life on the one.  And, through this occasional meeting of minds I’ve gotten to know more people in Brixton than I do in Ruislip.  And, I love this area; but, it is rapidly turning pale white as yuppie American kids move in, inured to much worse crime and rates of crime and happy to tough it out as settlers for a couple of years while their houses increase in value an order of magnitude and everything that made this a cool neighbourhood gets priced out.  I’m almost certainly a part of the problem, even though the only white guy I know down there is kind of exiled from Dulwich and has probably spent a viable portion of his life in HM’s prison system: despite my horrifying appearance in most of the northern suburbs where I live I am still good (perhaps “safe”) optics and blunt the edges of some of the more vivid street life.



It was with some trepidation, therefore, that I ventured into the lily-white and disturbingly American confines of the Market House.  There were a couple of black gents near the window seating I gravitated toward but they seemed to also be in the business of gentrifying the area (albeit in the trades). Okay, to be fair, if it is happening anyway then at least hire local.  And, I may be overstating the dangers of upscaling a bit.  I mean, the menu will at least be Caribbean food, I thought.

But, noooooooooooo … chicken wings and other American bar fare.  And, fries.  Fucking fries.  I am in Hell.



Posted May 17, 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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Shepherds Bush to Acton Tourism   1 comment


Friday after work run:  Started at the Shepherds Bush stop of the coach from Oxford and moseyed on up to the Queens Tavern.  As I have every other time I’ve tried to go here (this must be the sixth or seventh effort), I checked the opening times and found them to be from noon til 11 or midnight.  As it has been every other time, it was closed.  The website went down since last Friday and the WhatPub entry tells the story: the pub is only open on game days, now.  Shit.

Whilst grinding my teeth over this wasted choice of an urban route over much nicer ones, I noticed the Batman Dental Surgery.  I only hope that if you explore deeper in the estate you’ll find the Black Widow Marriage Counseling offices or the Swamp Thing Garden Centre.




This poor choice of font size resulted in an unfortunate and confusing presentation of the team slogan. It SHOULD, of course, read, “Come On Your Arses.”  Or, maybe it is as simple as bad spacing and should be, “Come On Your’s” (with a troublingly spurious apostrophe).  No one puts the effort into graphic design nor proofreading, anymore:





This Bed & Breakfast, not far from the stadium, is probably out of my price range:





I continued.  The other planned pub stop was also closed, I think.  I decided there wasn’t enough spring in the mattress to assist in clearing the hoarding, and ran on, eventually finding the Wishing Well pub near East Acton station (write-up soon).

I’ve had more (and less) successful runs.  At least it was hot and the start of the Early May Bank Holiday Weekend.