Saturday 6th July 2024, 10:30am
'Chingford Curios' (antiques shop, not micropub) is the unlikely starting point for a rare BRAPA foray into East London.
Dad is reprimanded for not removing his rucksack by the most stereotypical East End Del Boy you could imagine. No luck on the colourful plates that Dad collects, but more joy on antique rummers, as Del clambers behind a few cabinets and returns five minutes later brandishing an interesting pair of Ogee glasses .... "Got these in an arse clearance!" he announces. Oh, 'house' clearance! And yes, I could fully imagine him prising them out of a dying old lady's cold hands.
They've got good heft and a bobbly bottom, I think they might be Georgian. £20 each, not bad. If you're going to be ching'd anywhere, it may as well be Chingford. Dad asks if I'll put one in the BRAPA bag. "If you can get it home in one piece, I'll let you have it" he says. Challenge accepted!
It is still shy of the 11am opening time at today's first tick just around the corner, King's Head, Chingford (2900 / 5060) and it is bucketing dahn with rain under a lead grey sky, so I'm pleased when they allow us to perch in their back porch for a few minutes, I even use their upstairs loo. 11am arrives, and I'm pleasantly surprised to see how passionate and knowledgeable the older gent is about his beers from Bishop Nick (not a pilot from Andrewsfield, Essex). Rare in my London experience that anyone serving real ale knows anything about the stuff. "I had three of this one last night, quality control" he says of the Ridley Rite that Dad goes for, but I'm a dark ruby mild man, still determined to increase my amount of chest hairs to double figures before I turn 50. Decent if unspectacular drop. The carpet is a wonky lined 7.5/10, best viewed whilst sober! Solid start.
Yes, before we head off to pub two, it is worth reminding you that England's Euro Quarter Final against Switzerland kicks off at 5pm, and I'd been tasked with getting us a tick showing the game, within easy reach of King's Cross, for we are on the 19:27 train home to York. We're hoping the game is decided in 90 minutes and doesn't go to extra time and pens.
With my Highams Park tick not opening until 2pm (typical flippin' micros), we skip that one and carry on to Hackney Downs, where I've got plenty to do within walking distance.
Daddy B. looked so miserable in the outdoor photo at Hackney Tap, Hackney (2901 / 5061) so I've kindly agreed to show a happier one of him coming back from the Gents, under his eponymous sign. Shame really, as approaching the building from the outside was the highlight of the entire experience, a chunky 1900 build which has been town hall, bookies, bank and probably a brothel by law of averages. They've blanded it out best they can inside, and a pleasant but bored shitless young chap serves us. No cask, which would become a Hackney theme, but the Siren Lumina is proper hazy burpy stuff, and I'd rather a high quality keg than a dodgy quality cask. Seats are too high, I'm paranoid that my bag will drop to the floor and smash the glass at only the second hurdle. Oh, and the music was dreadful, and for a second consecutive pub we were the only customers, but they are probably all sensibly starting their drinking later with the England game in mind, right?
A short walk took us to pub three, and the sun which had finally come to play and greet us in Hackney was replaced by more grim sideways rain. Talking of grim ......
Yuck! Considering the Old Ship Inn, Hackney (2902 / 5062) was the only Hackney tick which sounded faintly traditional (I'd done the Pembury and Cock a few years back if you wondered), it was easily the most despicable. A sticky bare-boarded dive, with higgledy-piggledy furniture. Blokes called Daz and Ste in Three Lions garb are getting tanked up on the Madri, their blonde botoxed lip-fillered other halves admiring them like "My Hero". The Five Points spluttered and died like my dreams, so a limp pint of Redemption is the only alternative, a brewery I'm not keen on even when their ales are 100%. The poor barmaid / landlady looked thoroughly miserable and like she'd rather be anywhere else but here, and just when you thought it couldn't get any worse, a pre-wedding party fill up the building. We couldn't get out quick enough, and I never did find the mermaid that the GBG claims resides here!
We'll end part one here before it gets any worse! Surely the standard would pick up, wouldn't it? And could I get my antique glass home in one piece? And what of the England game?
Find out all this and more on Sunday night in Part 2.
Si
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