Graft-work

Pub 250. The Grafton Arms, 21st January 2014.


A back-street Fitzrovia boozer that is way off the beaten track, well not way off - Tottenham Court Road and Warren Street are just a stone's throw away, but thankfully that stone's throw is just far enough to keep most of the madding crowd away. The clientele seem to be entirely of post-work office types judging from their business-like attire. And indeed from the business like talk of the chaps either side of me at the bar, "In Aberdeen they just don't get it - Edinburgh and Glasgow they're a lot ready to adapt but not Aberdeen..." and "... when you've got a staff of 10 it's just not worth it..." etc.


The bar offered the normal Greene King fare but I went for a guest ale with a hand-written label, the name of which I forget but was very nice. What does annoy about these types of Greene King pubs is those idiotic illuminated hand-pumps that some GK PR idiot must think he's a genius for dreaming up. To me they make it look they serving keg beer. Perhaps they think that bright lights on pumps will make ale look appeal to the lucrative lager-drinkers market, although most people in here were still lager drinkers so that ploy seemed to have failed. And in fact such a pump actually put me off buying a pint of their IPA in the Crown and Anchor so a double fail there me thinks!


There's a pleasant enough upstairs bar room, where at first no-one had any drinks. Which I thought was odd. Then in one fell swoop 2 or 3 people all arrived to together with drinks for the various tables. The upstairs bar although manned wasn't open, so they were having to go downstairs.


There's also a roof terrace apparently, but I'll leave for the summer months. A nice but posh back-street boozer and to me a lot more pleasant and a lot less pretentious than its more northerly namesake. I wonder which one Charles FitzRoy would've prefered....?

Come, come, come...

Pub 249. The Old Bull and Bush, 18th January.


The Bull and Bush - famed for so many reasons. Surely everyone's familar with the song, Ann Widdecomb's slight misfortune, and most exciting of all - the Tube station there that never was.
(The pub interestingly is also mentioned in the other song about a Camden pub...)
Sadly though nothing is made of any of these interesting stories, in fact nothing is made of its great and long history which it could arguably trace back to 1645. Odd - usually pubs with a tale to tell ram it down your throat with large boards displaying fantastic tales of the pub's past. And from what I read the recent refit has ruined a lovely old quirky interior and replaced it with just another loungey-gastropub to please the tourists and nice Hampstead people with a car.


So inside it's all very plain. Plain in a very nice tasteful way that is. It's very much more towards the restaurant end of the gastro-pub spectrum, although the Young's Bitter at £2.30 a pint was very cheap and very cheerful.

Henry Kelly came in, with his zimmer frame and was warmly greeted by the staff. Perhaps the pub's only regular? If they'd had Young's London Gold on I would loved to hear him say "I'm going on Gold!" that would've made my day. But otherwise this pub doesn't.

Unholy alliance

Pub 248. The Alliance, 18th January 2014.


Large... empty... quiet... it's like walking into a big old empty barn that's been nicely done up and filled with tables and chairs. I'm not sure if the landlord was just not employing fake-politeness (a good thing) or just being grumpy and terse (not a good thing, but not necessarily bad), but his apology for my change being all in coppers sounded very sarcastic. But the Ruddles County was nice enough, although not cheap.


Shortly after wandering about, I settled down to watch the football results coming in, as one does at 4.45pm on a Saturday, along with 3 or 4 other chaps only for it to be switched to some unimportant rugby game at the behest of just one man. Quite annoying. And then to add to my annoyance 2 of the 4 babies in the pub started wailing, and were just about drowned out by their parents on their phones. This place is like a creche I thought! Then I saw the special area set-aside for the kiddiwinks called the "Little Devils' Corner" or something. Jees... it is a bloody creche!


Still, they've got the most extensive breakfast menu of any pub in the borough, so that's good then.

Alice in blunderland

Pub 246. The Alice House, 11th January 2014.


On entering The Alice House I wasn't sure whether this was a pub or a restaurant or a gastro-pub or a... or a I don't know what. And neither does Alice really. But she's trying to be at least a bit pubby - those pumps hidden behind the bar give the game away.
The chap behind the bar says to me "Hey buddy, what's happening?" - no, he's not American although he's trying to look with his trendy plaid shirt and big beard. I correctly assume that his opening gambit actually meant "Hello, what would like?". I went for half a Camden Ink - no ale here.
I have no idea how much it cost as he never told me, but from counting the change that unceremoniously plopped back into my hand I reckon it was £2.70.

I sat down at a table with a tiny bit of detritus from the previous occupants but still took an age of faffing and cleaning to prepare it. Maybe they thought the Queen was coming.


The habit of the bar staff / waiters to stare and smile at me every time they walked past quickly became a tad annoying.
But the place was full. Full of cool young things, quite happy for their food - gourmet burgers and hand-batter fish & chips - to be served on a bread board. And it seemed that every drink, no matter what - beer, wine, coffee, water - had to be followed by a glass of water. The new kids of lovely new gentrified West Hampstead I suppose.

Their website says "An exciting mix of vintage chic, innovative cocktails, craft beer and relaxed dining". Make of that what you will, but really it's a surrogate pub for people who do to "pub-type things" every now & then, but don't like pubs. But I do like pubs so thank Alice, but no thanks.



Black cat bones

Pub 247. The Black Lion, 11th January 2014.


Pub! Dining! Garden! I hate these tedious and unnecessary mixed-verb/noun proclamations that some pubs insist on. Had the cost of putting it up there ever been recouped by the number of people enticed in by such promises that wouldn't have otherwise gone in? No. Indeed has the cost of the paint used in the lettering been covered thus?? No. It just looks pretentious and stupid, Mr Black Lion.

Anyways, once in it's ok. Just on the pub side of gastro pub. The Adnam's Shingle Bells didn't feel at all festive on this sunny January day but was nice enough.

The place is so cluttered with tables that it's hard to navigate your way around.


But the most annoying thing on this occasion though were the two twerps who got to the bar just before me, and hogged the one barman for what seemed like an hour faffing and flapping about what to drink - and then what to eat. They eventually settled on "a bottle of Hoegaarden [wait 3 mins....] oh sorry make that two please", and then visibly heart-broken there were no scotch eggs (oh so trendy scotch eggs!) they bravely made do with some chips - "chips - frites...?". Welcome to the modern West End Lane!

Still, the beer is nice and a pub is a pub. Dining. Garden.

You're bard!

Pub 244. The Shakespeare's Head. 7th January 2014.


A great big huuuuge Wetherspoons, full of tourists tucking into fish & chips. Pretty the same as any other 'spoons really. Nice having no music forced down your lugholes as ever. And the Wibbler's Dengie Dark was typically cheap. I thought at the time it was £2.50 - but sounds a bit unrealistic thinking about it.



Some nice paintings and a massive library of books - which surely no-one ever uses?
As with all Wetherspoons there's not much to say, a spoons is a spoons with all the usual thrills & spills. Although this has fruit machines - I thought Mr JD didn't allow them? Or have times a-changed?

But the Shakey's claim to fame must be that it surely boasts the longest uninterrupted view in any pub in Camden. Wow!




All are dumb

Pub 245. All Bar One (Holborn). 7th January 2014.


Sadly the signage outside was correct, this All Bar One was open as usual.
Tentatively I entered, it quite empty thankfully, unlike the last All Bar One I had the misfortune to have to go in. Small mercies!

After waiting an age for someone to appear behind the bar, I handed over £2.70 for half of a Sierra Nevada Pale Ale and retreated to a table with some complimentary newspapers on it.


The few punters in there all seemed smarty-farty office types. One girl sat on her own blaring down her iPhone. And another woman sat in the corner with two gentleman had no qualms in blaring out inanities such as "I just don't like being somewhere where I'm not comfortable..."

Having got to about page 9 of the Thunderer I had supped my sweet fizzy cold Yank ale, and without regret returned to the darkness without.

Please let there be no more All Bar Ones in the borough.