Persuaded by my younger brother to accompany him and his wife and youngest son to join them on a trip to our great capital I thought ‘ ah a chance to sample the cockney ales’.
Never has it been harder for a man to get a pint !
Some kind followers on Twitter (@mybeerfairy) made recommendations for places to get a decent pint or two but didn’t bargain on the over-bearing dominance of a fussy eating 14 year old who, for some reason, didn’t relish the thought of an afternoon beer tasting so it was a riverboat and bus tour for me; if I saw the Houses of Parliament once I must have seen them a dozen times – I am assuming there is only the one H of P ?.
Managed to squeeze in a couple of pints of Holden’s Temple of Love at the St Bride’s Tavern in Blackfriars (a very short walk from the hotel) in between shifts and grew quite partial to the impact it had upon my mood. A good solid pint that lingered on the palate.
Not sure about the dodgy sisters of mercy reference and rock-style clip but as was with my Brother from the Mersey and now living in Leeds it seemed churlish not to give it a bash.
I believe that, being under 5% ABV, it is technically a session beer however I would recommend that you don’t have 4 pints after you have only had a 6″ subway and the pickings of your wife’s plate to eat all day. Especially true if you have an early checkout the next day although the all-you-cram-down-your-throat-without-being-sick-or-thrown-out breakfast did help my overall equilibrium.
Other than that there was a fine pint of Leeds Brewery Monsoon IPA at the Blackfriars, I know from experience that this is a good session ale, unfortunately this was not that experience and a mere one pint later I was back on the treadmill that is a short break in dat der London.
Other than that there was what seemed like the most expensive pint ever in the Punch and Judy in Covent Garden; one limb and my first born for a so-so pint of Hobgoblin but the barman was a jolly fellow which took the sting of things (a little) and the bit of Yorkshire pub I pinched from Mrs BF’s plate was very nice.
Finally, a recommendation for the Tipperary on Fleet street that seemed to have been dropped in from the late 1870’s. A decent pint of Wainwright’s (you can take the boy out of Yorskhire etc) but more importantly they were playing back to back classic Who songs – a long time since I have heard Pictures of Lily and Happy Jack in a pub and refused to leave until the last chords of ‘Won’t Get Fooled Again’ or that song from CSI Miami as it is known to some of us rang out. A fitting end to a long, long day in London.
When a man is tired of London it is time to stand up all the way home on the train due to a power out.