According to a bloke at work, he was relieved that proper football was back, in other words, the over hyped Premier League, with the W.M. police wrapping itself round the second city derby again, and moving it to the now traditional midday Sunday kick-off, it was just another double header in my eyes. I travelled down on the Chilten line, docking at Marylebone, hitting the underground. The British population has become addicted to their phones, I’m unsure whether they’ve enabled us to evolve, or the over reliance is degenerative, every where you look, someone is on theirs. I got off and walked between the counties of Bank and Monument, before grabbing breakfast at the Crosse Keys,
“Worth the walk”
As Wetherspoons go, it’s possibly my second favourite, after the Babbington Arms in Derby, in terms of interior, probably the most spectacular in the country, talking of countries, a more fitting description of the walk underground between Bank and Monument would be to replace counties with countries.
“A nerve centre not for the nervous”
An old mate of mine from Telford, phoned me up, thinking I was in Brum and could meet up, he informed me, that at 45, he was to become a father again. Rather him than me. They’ve got T.V. screens on tube stations now, so your brain can be subjected to even more advertising as you wait for your train. I went passed Great Ormond street hospital children’s Hospital on the way to The Lamb, regardless of the fantastic work they do there, I couldn’t think of anything, but the pervert that was Jimmy Saville.
“A beautiful pub, but not the prices”
A fiver for a pint of real ale, I couldn’t help thinking of all the stressed parents that had been stung. The Brewhouse and Kitchen was next on the agenda, a brew pub just off the Angel and Islington station, I was so tempted to try the Romford Pele, as it’s ‘only Ray Parlour’,s title for his autobiography I started reading at Val and John’s, as I began my recovery, I settled on the Goalscorer instead. This place is a must visit place for a true ale drinking Arsenal fan.
The place had been on my wish list for a while, and it didn’t disappoint. Nor did the next place, Tapping The Admiral, a proper back street boozer,
“Complete with moggy”
The place had an easy feel about it, unfussy and a lived in by loyal locals. The trouble with games in London, is time creeps up, and rushes passed you, getting round the transport system, always takes longer than you expect it to, I ditched my agenda to go to the game, turning up at the Hive after kick-off
The first thing that I wasn’t impressed with, was that they don’t produce a ‘proper’ programme, they are now only downloadable, they do a teamsheet, but I suspect, it’s only for the away fans, a couple of weeks ago, my Nephew Dave text me with a question off a student who wanted to know why a programme, I can name plenty of reasons why, but none for why not, a bit like having a book, and not a kindle. There was no pay on the gate option either, so I had to buy a ticket, more time lost, before I could scan the barcode and gain entry, I suspect, using the flimsy excuse that I was late, I got frisked by a bored steward.
“Impressed? You shouldn’t be”
“Meccano strikes again”
A cheap kit ground, I was wondering more and more, why I’d chose to do the ground, I’d decided on the terracing, because I don’t get much chance of officially standing these days, and Gateshead were housed in seating, but when the North Easterners took the lead, it was as much as I could do, from stopping from jumping up and down, especially as the home support had an irritating drummer trying to create an atmosphere, with Gateshead 1:0 at half time, I had come to the realisation, I didn’t much like Barnet, they were to get an equaliser though, a good finish after a bit of a scramble, the high pitched screamer amongst the home support, didn’t endear me to them either, I started to contemplate leaving and heading back in to the city centre, as Barnet were playing an offside trap, but Gateshead managed to get through it, find a little space, and go 2:1 up, I wanted to jump up and down again, I didn’t see why, but Gateshead’s substitute goalkeeper got booked, within a minute of it, Barnet hit the bar, in the closing stages, the first choice keeper got booked for time wasting, I couldn’t ever remember a game where both keepers were cautioned, least I have the programme to trigger the memory. . . ah no wait, it’s only a teamsheet. I was happy that the right club won as I caught the tube back to the ant hill centre, I wouldn’t by swelling the 920 attendance again, it’s too much hassle.
I went to the Craft Beer Co off Angel after, it wasn’t as pricey as I was expecting, in an area I was expecting it to be. The place had a comfy feel, and the beer was superb, The next place off Bond Street, The Golden Eagle, was more non descript, not bad, not great, a tourist trap mainly, I had enough time before my train back to take in The Carpenters Arms, I realised as soon as I got in there, I’d been in before, I should really re read some of the dross I write when researching London trips, as with it being such an intense, sprawling heap, you do forget the easily forgettable. Sport on the televisions, drag the alpha’s in, and also the females who get attracted to them, I felt glad that I’m out of that particular minefield, I quickly drank up my warm pint before it had chance to get any warmer and headed for Marylebone, I hadn’t eaten since the Crosse Keys, and wanted a pasty, a dry witted lad who I used to work with, always wanted to ‘hear’ what I ate, when I put details like that in my blog, well Steve, if you still bother reading this coma inducing rubbish, it was steak and ale, the ale was St Austell, Tribute, don’t know what the bovines name was, it wasn’t stated. I did the usual sleep on the train home to Brum trick.