Sam Smith's

There are 36 Sam Smith's pubs in London, and every one of them is an architectural gem, how does the company do it? They've managed over the last few years to take over some of the most beautiful victorian pubs in London.

I've been in few, and it's my ambition to try all of them, but my favourite has to be the 'Cittie of Yorke', 22 high Holborn, it has a wonderful vaulted beamed ceiling and 'confessional' like snugs.

There are also a number of huge wine vats near the entrance, said to hold 1000 gallons each!

The 'Pure Brewed' Lager is only £2.88 a pint, which is nearly Weatherspoon prices!

"Can I get..."

'Friends', the frankly 'vomit-inducing' American TV programme, has a lot to answer for. The main gripe being the introduction of "can i get..." into the British/English vocabulary, "can i get a pint of...", "can i get a packet of crisps" etc etc etc
It drives me bloody crazy, so much so that I can quite reguarly be heard muttering obscenities whenever I hear it used.
If you ask to get a pint, by any reasoning, you're asking to come (a)round to the other side of the counter and pour it yourself. Surely it should be "can/may i have" or "I would like", "can i get" is and sounds rude, pushy and self-centered.
Maybe it's indicative of the dumd-downed, US dominated popular-culture that is all pervasive nowadays!

Gone to 'Paradise'!

I awoke very early this morning, due to a mixture of a restless night with a hangover and the 'monsoon' that swept through London this morning, so I decided that I would have a 'fry up' in the 'Paradise Cafe' on Holloway Road before venturing to work.

I went for the 'Veggie Breakfast', hash browns, veggie sausage, egg, beans, tomatoes, mushrooms, 2 toast and a tea, all for the measly sum of £3.95. I substituted the veggie sausage for another egg as I am not fond of the 'Dalepak' version on offer here. If you didn't know already, 'Dalepak' veggie sausages are an abomination, fingers of potato with diced carrot, peas and sweetcorn.

The eggs were cooked to perfection, firm whites and runny yolks; the hashbrowns golden and crispy, and the remaining items tasty and hot. I can't abide lukewarm baked beans!

Suddenly my hangover dissipated, the rain stopped and the sun broke through. All was well with the world!

The 'Mary Celeste' of restaurants!

For the past five years I have been passing the 'Standard Tandoori' on Holloway Road, the one with the sign outside which proudly announces "One of the best restaurants in London", and in all this time I have never seen anyone entering or leaving it!
How does it survive? Is it a front for something?
If you know something then please tell me.

More 'Up The Holloway'

Overheard in a Holloway cafe; man to woman 'how's your son?', woman "oh he's fine, just come out (I assume this means means out of prison and not that he told her he was gay), lost his job and he's skint, but he's alright"
I suppose everything is relative but I would hate to meet him on a bad day!

Gone to the dogs! (or not as the case may be!)

I have just read in The Guardian that a rescue bid is being put forward to save Walthamstow Dogs, I hope it succeeds.

There used to be 33 dog tracks in London and now there will only be one left, Wimbledon.

Whole swathes of working class culture are being lost in London, either through gentrification or re-development, look at what we have already lost to the Olympic fiasco!

Everything seems to be geared around expensive sit down meals, gastro-pubs, deli's, coffee chains etc.

Do we need another block of expensive, designer, lifestyle flats for the metrosexual urban elite?

Up the Holloway!

Ah the joys of Holloway Road!
Sitting in one of my many local cafes on the Holloway Road today I overheard the following snippetts of conversation;

between an 11/12 year old boy and his beloved mum, boy to mum "stop fuckin' hasslin' me, you know I don't use a knife and fork".
Three men to the waitress, after ordering and receiving 3 plates of fish & chips, "have these been cooked seperately from the other food?", waitress "what do you mean?", one of the men "we are muslims and will not eat anything that has been cooked in the same oil as pork etc", waitress "why didn't you tell me this before you ordered?", men "it's ok we'll pay anyway", which they did and left.
I left shortly afterwards to go back to work only to find a certain Mr. Behan, of pissing on the Oxford English Dictionaries in the Central Library fame, lying on the pavement, with urine soaked trousers, cursing and swearing.
And people say they are bored of London!!!!

Piss Poor Pints in Paddington!

The pubs just off Praed Street in Paddington are a strange brew! Maybe its because of their proximity to the railway station that makes them on the whole, characterless, soulless and bland.
The first, the 'Rob Roy', as you may have guessed a scottish theme pub, was virtually empty at 5.30pm on a Friday. I had a pint of Holsten Export which tasted slightly sour, the barman replaced it with another that tasted slightly better but I ended up leaving half of it and moving on.
The next one was 'The Sir Alexander Fleming', full off white van drivers and staff from the nearby hospital. Ordered a pint of Grolsch which was flat, asked the barmaid to top it up or replace it and she replied "it's my first day, what do you expect". Drank up and left.
Lastly, visted the 'Fountains Abbey', another characterless pub serving bad beer. The only interesting thing about this pub is the lovely green tiled victorian fireplace.
I've heard that the 'Royal Exchange' on Sale Place is a gem of a place, must try.

Bubble the same colour as the walls!

Recently I had what I can only describe as the worst breakfast I have ever had, which is quite an achievement as I must have had thousands.
This award goes to the 'Arsenal Cafe', 25 Blackstock Road, N4.
I had 2 eggs, bubble, mushrooms, tomatoes, 2 toast and a tea, £4.60 for the lot. Lets start with the bubble which consisted of fried mashed potatoes, peas, diced carrot and onions, it was a lurid bright green colour, which incidentally matched the colour of the walls. The eggs weren't cooked properly, the whites were still runny and the 'fried' tomatoes were raw.
I mentioned these shortcomings to the young waitress and she shrugged her shoulders and said that she didn't see what the problem was, even though I had left nearly all of it uneaten on the plate. I paid up and gladly left.
What a miserable experience!

Lunch, a beer and English Longhorn Cattle!

Last Sunday we, that is me, the missus and the little one, decided to head up to the wilds of Chingford for lunch.

Near Chingford Station there is a pub called the 'Royal Forest', as near to Harvester hell as you can get! The food wasn't good and came in very mean portions, but the beer garden leads onto Epping Forest and on one side you have Queen Elizabeth's Hunting Lodge, built by Henry VIII in 1543. So all in all a very nice view and place to sit in the sun and quaff a beer or two.
Also there are some very nice walks in the forest. The little one was fascinated by the Longhorn Cattle, which have recently been re-introduced to Epping Forest