Met on the Tat in changeable weather at 1pm. The tide was low and the old ex-Humber ferry rocked and almost broke loose from the moorings in the wake of passing craft. We sat out on the front deck as it was quite sunny. I bought two pints of Pedigree before my mate arrived. "That's service" he said. I said "that'll be a tenner" It wasn't too busy for a Monday lunchtime. My mate checked out a few special offers at potential restaurants for an evening meal. There are some good offers available online thesedays. My mate said he'd driven from his girlfriend's to Ware and grabbed the train.
Grabbed the underground from Embankment to Blackfriars. The intention was to find The Harrow on Whitefriars Street just off Fleet Street. We eventually found it, a Fullers pub, so three guesses what we drank! We climbed the steep rickety apples and pears and found a seat up in the Georgian dining area, complete with plasma tv, overlooking a picturesque building under construction. No idea who the three gentlemen were in the picture above the opposite table. My mate noticed all the chairs were mixed up a bit, maybe to accommodate the freemasons and 'under the leg hand-shakers'. I did read there was a press party organized for the evening. I expected Nelson to pop in, but it was a long shot. Didn't even get an half Nelson. Steve Arwood wasn't in, either. I suppose it was easy enough to locate, what with it being a short walk from Blackfriars station. Spotted the Black Friar pub with its large statue of a black friar above the entrance, before the haphazard task of crossing the approach road to Blackfriars bridge. After some momentary real-life Frogger, we headed into the back streets. Lots of old alleys. One of them, Carmelite Street had its name carved into the concrete of a corner office building.
After the Harrow, we had a stomp across the bridge, after admiring the south London skyline from the embankment and watching a catamaran pleasure cruiser turn away from the jetty. Saw some interesting new glass towers being erected, amongst the brutal concrete edifices of the sixties and seventies. My mate mentioned one of his mates was a window cleaner on office towers and worked the special crane on top of the building. You need a good head for heights for that job. George Formby never went up office blocks. The shard was standing high above the skyline. We ducked for shelter on the south bank as the rain became steady and heavy. We dad a good discussion about kings, spurred on by the pub opposite, called The Ring, which was clearly a remnant of Victoriana with its old London brick walls and arched windows. Moved on to Georges and King Edwards. People walking by must have thought we were talking about 'taters! Noticed a top heavy glass tower opposite, shaped like a 'T' from the side. One way of creating space. When the rain eased up, we carried on down The Cut which leads on to Lower Marsh market, lined with interesting shops including one dealing with model railway and war books. Allen something, it was called. Spotted a Thai restaurant with a set of wall-mounted bird houses in the shape of an arrow. Passed a fair few pubs too. The Walrus on the corner looked gloomy as we approached the tunnel beneath Waterloo railway bridge.
We walked past the back of the town hall and stood admiring the London Eye for a bit. I thought a mattress inside the cars would work. My mate said they've got one in Tokyo called the Jap's Eye. That reminds me of that time I was with a girl in London and I said "do you fancy going up the eye?" She said "don't be disgusting!" We decided that most stomps could be divided into three 'three-hourly' sections. Meet up and lunch. Afternoon. Evening. Makes perfect sense. Then some bloke on a bike cut us up. It's a fucking footpath mate!
We crossed Westminster Bridge after discussing the houses of Parliament and Elizabeth Tower with its Big Ben bell and reminiscing about Newquay wet T- shirt contests. We partially agreed on going back to Newquay when we're 90 years old! Regarding the Houses of Parliament, you hardly see any of the other rooms on TV and it's a vast palace. I had a sudden urge to see the statue of Lord Montagu who was the lesser known commander at the Battle of the Glorious First of June. Admiral Howe got the medal for that one and ignored Montagu, who fought many decisive skirmishes. (We beat the French, incidentally.) Anyway, we queued up to go in Westminster Abbey to see the bloke, but it was only open for church services, so we didn't venture in. I said "I only wanna see Lord Montagu." The girl said "sorry we closed for public viewing at 3.30." Oh well. We contemplated swapping coats and rejoining the queue and saying we're interested in taking part in the church service but decided to move on. It was not to be. The weather was starting to improve as the day wore on.
We wandered up Victoria Street. Quite a bland New York style thoroughfare with a few pretty pubs. One of those pubs is located on Strutton Ground, home of the Rastafarian angry man who wanted paying one time when the market was in full swing. No market today. We had a pint of London Glory which was good and sat by the front window beneath a picture of old celebs taken in the sixties. Eamon Andrews seemed to be the most prominent in the crowd. Harry Secombe was in there too, being one of the Goons. Spike Milligan had his own portrait. This was the pub where the Goons supposedly met up to discuss and write their sketches. As far as I know they weren't Arsenal fans. I told Mark about Danny Dyer's risqué memoirs and my own experience at Chingford Cricket Club in the late 80s. Both stories involved some pretty sordid sexual details. Talked about Vince the precision metal worker and the youngest Wilkinson sibling. My mate told me about some bloke nicking Tony Leg's haunch of beef and cracking a dartboard in half when he punched it in anger. he soon got his beef back. You don't wanna be having a beef with him! Good chinwag. Nice boozer.
Went to Victoria station, now busy with commuters. Grabbed the oxo cube to Gunnersbury, which wasn't planned but formed a better prospect as it was closer to Strand on the Green - the next destination. There is actually a pub in Gunnersbury called The Gunnersbury, which isn't very imaginative but it looks alright. We gave it a miss on this occasion. The hotel-affixed Globe bar looked a bit Peroni! After some back street wanders, halfway over a railway bridge in Chiswick, my mate said "I was expecting a leisurely drink in London with a mate. My knee aches." Eventually we stumbled into The Bell and Crown. Ordered two pints of London Pride and grabbed a seat by the Thames. It's a much quieter tree-lined river at this point, almost in Brentford. Constable preferred to paint this part of London and you can see why. There were several currents flowing as we noticed a stick moving faster than another stick. A fair few white swans too. Marveled at some of the low flying planes approaching Heathrow.
Then came an epic stomp. Around the Thames Path from Chiswick to Hammersmith; deceptively further than I anticipated. We passed the almost hidden Chiswick Marina in wealthy West London suburbia. (A place for rich people's boats - not an old Morris!) On route we inspected an old barrier. Concrete and shingle posts that had been gnawed at by years of extreme weathering. Twisted wrought iron railings possibly connected inside the posts. On further analysis this did indeed look the case. We estimated the fence was about 100 years old. It was mostly covered in ivy and brambles which reminded me of the story my mate mentioned about fixing his girlfriend's patio and buying some bricks that were surplus to requirements. We walked for what seemed an eternity. At one point I wondered if eternity was an actual place and wished it would hurry up and materialize. There was no glimpse of London at all in this quasi-rural zone. At one point I said "we could be in Puckeridge!" We passed the half-derelict Budweiser factory in Barnes on the other side of the river. At one point we ended up on a boatyard. Maybe we should have nicked that dinghy at Strand on the Green! My plates of meat were aching a bit now and I had no urge to go and play Badminton at the expansive and expensive Chiswick Health and Racquet Club. An elderly blonde driving her purple Merc Kompressor could haveve given us a bloody lift. We walked up and down some more tree-lined paths, some of which doubled back on one another, making the stomp a great deal longer. We wandered under a dark little tunnel. Then we were back in an open park area with rotting logs lining the path. I saw something. "Is that a tent?" It turned out to be a low covered trailer. I really thought it was a small blue tent. Not that I was considering bedding down for the night, but if there's no sign of civilisation we might have had to. It wasn't a tent anyway, definitely a trailer. Was this Vietnam? Are we starting to hallucinate? Then we were back on the riverside in suburbia and passed an old deserted bandstand. At last we spotted a Thames island or 'eyot' and beyond that, according to my web browser - the possibility of a hard earned beer in the Black Lion. Well done Timberland and well done Converse!
Popped in the Black Lion and bought some beers and sat outside, cream crackered. Any seat will suffice at this point. Not fussed. It was getting on for half nine now. That ball and chalk was over an hour or so. What were those big posts in the middle of the Thames? My mate mentioned his old man had a couple of French bulldogs. The beer was revitalising me and I think my mate's Red Bull had done the trick. Time to think about wrapping up the stomp as 10pm was approaching.
At the Black Lion we had some tattoo chat. I said I once worked with an artist of Vietnamese descent who lives in Cardiff and who recently set up a tattoo studio. Talented girl. We debated on getting some scran either near Stamford Brook station or maybe even getting off at Earls Court. We constantly checked rail times. There wasn't much in the way of kebab outlets on Goldhawk Road so we jumped on the underground. At Earls Court it was time to make one of those snap decisions and since it was well past ten, it didn't give us much time for food, so we decided to call it a night. I changed for Paddington at Earls Court and my mate stayed on the train to Liverpool Street. Good stomp that! I saw there was an Oxford bound train waiting so I grabbed a bacon and egg sandwich from Whistle Stop and boarded. The fast train. Very useful. Got back to Oxford at midnight. Just in time for the end of the Shipping Forecast!
No comments:
Post a Comment