Not for the first time without a guide book in the centre of Prague, the place seems bereft of the kind of dingy little bars that surround railway stations in Spain, and for that matter England.
We have one and a half hours before our train to Kutna Hora, and eventually find this basement pizzeria. It was probably a decent basic boozer in its (grim Communist) heyday – gentrified into this culturally irksome, but lovely smelling pizza joint.
The beer tastes good too. Not, Steph suggests, from the tank. Could, I suggest, she tell the difference? Possibly... not.
Beer is £4.30 a pint, but it’s very good. I think the vigorous twilight walk through Stockwood Park golf course makes a pint go down particularly well pre-curry night in Slip End.
The pub is relatively empty at half five, save for a group of lads in high-vis work gear – all drinking San Miguel – and a family of four, the adults of which are drinking San Miguel too… I don’t know: I can see the appeal in a hot country like Spain – cold beer in small glasses – but in autumnal South Bedfordshire?
Work is tough at the moment – with acceptance of unpaid overtime being an almost minimum requirement. I won’t do it.
Elsewhere in the pub game – the F&R are gearing up for Christmas. From the pictured pamphlet: Five course meal on Christmas Day… £70 (including a glass of welcome Prosecco). Five course meal on New Years’ Eve - £55 (including a glass of Prosecco at midnight). We saw the 1990s in at the F&R – there was no Prosecco at midnight then… what there was was a group of local lads singing “I should be so lucky” instead of “Auld Lang Syne”.
Post gig (Barton/Stoneman Quintet at The Bear) – back to The Brickies. My notes get less coherent, but they’re mercifully brief. They are (verbatim):
Arguing. 60s pop. Beatles, Dylan, Who, Moon
Sexy cats (house cats – pre-spay)
Plans for Praha
My odd lens. What the f*ck does it do?
See pic. It apparently plays tricks with light and focus. I must have had the lamp that night – but see pic, of the same kind of mild, from our first visit dans L’Briqs earlier in the evening. Quite interesting… colour has come out nice. I’ll have to dabble anon.
We sit outside again, watching coverage of England v Slovenia World Cup Qualifier. It's a boring game, and after a while Steph gives up on it and wanders over to take a look inside the cathedral.
This bar is right on the Alicante tourist drag but A) there aren't many tourists about B) it's very reasonably priced C) it's a lovely spot right outside the cathedral and D) Carmen and her kids live metres away – within earshot of the buskers in this square, and the tips-bell at Sento, equidistant from her flat in the other direction. It really doesn't seem such a bad place to live...
We'd planned to pop round and visit Carmen, but she'd just put the kids to bed – and her flat had been hit by a power cut. Of course she might have just said that to avoid meeting us, we wouldn't blame her, but we were right outside when we called, and the whole building was dark... again, she could have asked a big favour of her neighbours and had everyone’s electric switched off.
So, with Carmen not out, we return to Piazza to watch England unexpectedly grab a last minute winner – and thereby win the right to ignominiously fail in the finals.
After that we return to the apartment, and the next day we return to Blighty (on the top deck of a 747 jumbo jet, to Gatwick, courtesy of Monarch having gone to the wall the day after they flew us out).
Beer: Pilsner Urquell 4.4%
Another dull PU “green” pub, this one on Namesti Miru. We’d been looking for cheap eats – and this might have done, but every table was reserved. We eventually find somewhere, up on overly high benches, which is available for the next half hour or so…
What’s this place called? I’ve taken to taking exterior pictures; not just because pictures of pints is getting a bit boring, but as an additional visual note of what a place is called. Inside, usually, the menu is a reliable source of information. It appears this establishment is called “Homemade Lemonade”.
The beer is good. The beer is always good… is it a credible line in homesickness to subconsciously hanker for the odd dodgy pint?
My notes suggest we talk about religion. Not entirely sure… it was probably my browbeating Steph into not damning religion per se – rather that the it’s always the idiot minority blah blah blah… that’s my belief system – it sounds similar to the argument of the American gun lobby.
We don’t eat – so head back for the Wenceslas Square stodge stalls.
Pre-Bear Club reading visit. The White House is pretty full and there's a palpable sense of low expectation. I shuffle through from the New Bedford Road side to the Old Bedford Road side before ordering what looks an interesting guest beer from Australia. It's nasty which, to be fair to 'Spoons, is a little unusual. I try and convince myself the vinegar taste is 'citrus notes' and stomach the foul brew.
Reading was ok. The White House has a very similar atmosphere to the Arndale; convenient, barn like and giving every impression of offering a huge choice. Which I suppose it does.
Steam train trip from Froghall to Cheddleton. Pub is a walk over the canal from the station. Sudden hive of activity when the train comes in.
Although we didn't end up going there (restricted by return train times) there is a water flint mill nearby which was used to grind flint used in the pottery industry.
Very pleasant spot on a sunny day like this - see pictures. Strange metal construction on one side of the bridge - must have a purpose but buggered if I know.
Beer: Summerskills Westward Ho! 4.1%, Ilkley Hanging Stone 5.0%
Pre match LT v Mansfield. The beer selection at the front bar is far too strong – so thank goodness the beer festival is still on at the back. And the atmosphere is so much brighter and lighter than it was on Friday night (no.382).
Picture features the beer festival flyer/menu. Again, there’s time and effort gone into this – and I suppose it’s nice to be able to eventually enjoy it.
There’s some pre-match jitters. Town have rather been spluttering to get over the promotion line, so we’re naturally keen for a result this afternoon.
It’s my turn for Half Time Treats. It’s Easter: so it’s hot crossed buns.
Beer: Banks & Taylor Edwin Taylor Stout 4.5%, Banks & Taylor Dunstable Giant 4.4%
I still reckon there’s too much choice at The Globe. Still, you’ve got to love the place – we’d visit far more often it was nearer home; while its local popularity on Friday nights tends to put us off a busway excursion.
Tonight, though, it’s quite early, and we’re in Dunny to see Danny Baker at The Grove.
I think, and Steph suggests, that the clientele aren’t swearing nearly as much in here as they were in The Victoria. It’s true – and there’s a few reasons, we reckon. We think it’s something to do with the clientele and with the acoustics… we then naturally take to listening in to the blokes at the bar, who are (albeit reasonably quietly) swearing quite a lot.
As per my theory “dogs in pubs being beneficial”, there are at least three in here and their presence provides entertainment and generates a general sense of bon homie. The whippet in the pic looked docile enough but revealed a touch of the bastard about him when faced with canine competition. The collie, sat under the table, over the way, is being kept at safe distance. Lovely dogs, collies, but nuts.
Dunstable Giant for a second/last pint. The beer is named in remembrance of the erstwhile landlord, Mel, who ran this pub when it first opened, and passed away some years ago. I didn’t really know him. Thurls did. I had a pint of Dunstable Giant once at The Square & Compass in Worth Matravers – an idyllically scenic (and quite quirky) pub near Swanage/the English Channel.
The Wiggy is looking a bit tired and the ale choice, once we’ve established that Abbot and Bombardier are off, is GKIPA and Doom Bar. Ho hum.
It’s an international weekend with the football so the place isn’t packed with polyester Prem’ fans, it’s quite nice and quiet; just a shame that, in this pub which was relatively recently listed in the Good Beer Guide, we’ve got better (Asda/M&S bought) beer at home.
That said, this is still a vibrant, bustling and good humoured community boozer.
Back at the bar for a second Doom Bar (I drink twice as fast as Steph) there’s some excitement as the bar staff are apparently pulling the Bombardier through. But, no, it’s 6pm… they’re cleaning the pipes. A sneaky coupla pints at The Wigmore isn’t as appealing as it has been.
Arrive at pub to find Leighton in the back bar chatting to Wes, Leighton, as has already been mooted, is a sociable guy. Wes is a decent fellow too; when my brother returns from a Hat Factory screening of Duck Soup we embark on a brief conversation on early twentieth century European cinema ("Nosferatu, of course” is my contribution to that one), while Leighton runs through the classics that he owns on DVD, and has never watched.
He goes on to produce a filling, the size of a small pebble, he’s dislodged from a back tooth.
We play the quizzer, specifically Hangman, until the machine decides it doesn’t want to play anymore and crashes. Wes leaves soon after – having arranged on phone to meet his wife outside.
The conversation gets bawdier after Wes departs. Is fellatio acceptable for vegans?
We discuss how, not having seen him for so long – and his not looking well when we last did - that our old (very vague, and not un-problematic) acquaintance “No Offence” is probably no longer with us.
Plans for Knockouts (see above for last concert appearance, though now thankfully off the Mamas & Papas theme) is that, since we’ve never had – and are unlikely to get, a Radio 1 session, we ought to release a record as having originally been recorded as an Ethan Brains session for Radio 1. Not sure who came up with the name Ethan Brains, but it was funny at the time.
The beer is good, but too strong – I should have had gone for something a little weaker after the first couple, but didn’t… and I didn’t feel too well the following morning as a result.
Just about make it for Anthony's birthday drinks, having cheered the Town on to a comfortable 1-0 victory over Exeter City, then felt decidedly knackered and a bit ill on the train. After reviving myself at St Pancras, it's a stroll up Pentonville Road in the rain, to Chapel Market. The pub's fairly quiet, although it gets busier later in the evening. There's a number of minor indie people from the olden days, most of whom are still playing in bands here and there.
Some chat with Ant, Rhodri, L8s, Elliot and Andrew. I've not spoken to either Elliot or Andrew before; they're both splendid fellows. The beer's much like the pub - there's more than a hint of hip'n'craft, but there's much to commend. Ant knows his 'pub stuff'. I stick to the Temperance throughout the evening; it's got a big flavour for 3.5%, which suits my delicate disposition.
Beer: Harveys Best Bitter 4.0%, Reunion Ales Vanilla IPA 4.9%
The night before we fly to Czech, we’re staying at the Premier Inn at Gatwick and the best of “our boys” in the area is the above establishment, which is about twenty minutes on the train back out from the airport.
It’s a nice looking building, traditional interior... but why is it so COLD in here? Several small fireplaces, stacked with logs, resolutely unlit, adorn the walls – apparently serving as decoration and/or a way to mock customers who aren’t taking coats off. Nearer the bar, staff huddle around little fan heaters.
The beer’s very nice though. It’s “Cask Monday”. The food is good. The staff, and very few customers, seem affable too.
Normal passing customers, we suggest, might be attracted in by the cask deal – but would take advantage of the chilly atmosphere by keeping coats on and leaving after the first pint. People would not stop to have a meal. Apart from us, nobody is stopping to have a meal.
The pub is very quiet, and quite dim. We play the quizzer. I bring the 1973 film The Three Musketeers up for discussion; I’ve recently watched it, having videoed it from one of the film channels. All-star cast – rubbish film. Michael York in particular, in my opinion is (always) woeful.
To be fair, the trailer looks pretty good - Ed
We go on to discuss hair growth with Brad. He’s growing his hair. We discuss North Korea (what are they thinking?), Luton Town, The Beatles (specifically how much better they’d have been if John Lennon was replaced by Liam Gallagher), Arndale, Sitges, Benidorm, Hendrix at Monterrey, Dolenz at Monterrey…
A sole Scand’ Hatter is circulating, noisily, around the pub. He’s the fellow who, on a previous (again, apparently solo) visit, offered me £50 for the LT badge I was wearing on my Harrington collar. It’s a nice ‘50s example, of the boatered player in black and white strip kicking an oversized football. I didn’t sell it, out of principle. I relay the anecdote to my brother, who suggests I probably should have.
Beer: Pilsner Urquell 4.4%
