London - 21/08/2010
The concrete strip bisects the grand old capital and moves us closer to Turkey by the second. Suspended as we are above the minutiae of life on either side we could be 10 or 100 feet from the ground, the endless towers offer no clue. The heat of our destination is as nothing to the fug of our 6 wheeled locale, a thoughtful aid to acclimatisation by National Express. But only the metronomically audible consumption of crisps introduces a sliver of black rage into my otherwise calm disposition. Looking out of the window at the burgeoning city I can't help but slip into a London-centric mindset for a second as it seems no idea was ever had that was not conceived here first. And yet somehow I already feel in a foreign country, doubtful the people around would understand if I were to speak. Time has ceased to be a point of reference, location is my barometer. We arrive as London is closing for the night, pub after pub shuts its doors to us, this stopover will go slowly. Grudgingly accepting that an entry charging gay bar is our oasis, an overdue drink is had. There is an empty, seat-devoid coach station we should be at though, so here I now sit, impressing upon flattened tree, the trivialities of my mind.
Pub review They say: "We came for a skittle on a Saturday night and they were very welcoming but you know how you hear about lizards ruling the world, the barstaff had a very lizardy look. Make your own mind up!" --Craig Savage 4/5 I say: 'The place where everybody knows your name' The claim is painted onto the wall and doesn't seem so outlandish on this chilly Tuesday night as there is no-one in the pub to know my name or not. Dry January? I can't imagine that's a thing around these parts. You don't keep over 30 pubs in business with virtuous gestures like that. It might be a Tuesday thing. Per usual I try to find a quiet corner with my beer, surely an easy task in an empty pub? Not so. Speakers hang from every nook and carpet the space in a thick fog of sound. It isn't even the usual autotuned pop/R&B dirge being vomited into my ears. That stuff I can confine to a background hum. Instead it's the pre-match commentary for the Brighto...
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