The dust has settled. The livers have had time to recover. Yes, the great London Tour of Destruction has come to an end. The mission: show Archimedes and the Whitefield Holts Bandit some of the delights of London in just two days.
Archimedes requirements were as simple as himself-alcohol and food. We did well with the first, but somewhat forgot about the second. The WHB meanwhile wanted bright lights and dancing girls to make him feel at home, but used to beer at £1.60 a pint, what would he make of paying £4 for the same privilege?
Friday began with us waiting impatiently for Wetherspoons to open at 9am-the tension easing as the metal shutters slowly rolled upwards. And it was in Wetherspoons (Liverpool St Station) that we finished some 14 hours later. It’s a classic railway JDW, i.e. a dump, but the customers weren’t as daft as they looked. They had after all drunk them dry of two of the best festival beers-Titanic Tomahawk and Val-Dieu Abbaye Blonde. Still, the Pinot Grigio and Sailor Jerry went down easy enough.
In the meantime, we criss-crossed London from Greenwich to Islington and all points in-between. Old favourites such as the Charles Lamb and my London local, the Edgar Wallace (although they were very apologetic about only having five on), didn’t disappoint.
Yellowhammer in the Old Fountain was on good form as was the Hophead in the Seven Stars. The WHB was much taken by the Inns of Court. Or, more specifically, the lady legal beagles that frequent the Chancery Lane area. He certainly made a friend for life with Handbag Girl in the Knights Templar.