Brenda asks why there hasn't been a tour for 4 months!
And my dear faithful reader, I’m afraid even I do not have a suitable excuse for this unforgivable transgression. I can shout from the rooftops about new jobs and leaving do’s of various people and varying enjoyment and can even tell you of “extra” made up tours (like the Bells of St Brenda’s) but at the end of Jeremy Kyle’s day I just haven’t bothered my lazy arse to do anything about it. How can you ever forgive me?
And on planning the blog for writing up this particular visit it would also seem that I’ve also forgotten everything about recording the tours as my collection of photographic evidence from the evening was an appalling array of under-exposed and unfocused shots that does me or the tour no credit whatsoever.
Therefore I have to resort to using this photo of Brenda getting all argey-bargey in the Pride of Spitalfields during the St Brenda’s extra visit tour whenever we need a suitable photo for this visit.
So ready to get going? Got your bag of oranges? Got your insulin pen? Nope, either have we.
So firstly we need to clear up the actual verse of the rhyme that leads up us the church of St Sepulchure-without-Newgate. Those with an encyclopaedic knowledge of London’s churches will know that this particular place of worship is the large church at the top of the street called Old Bailey and from it’s position on the North West corner of the crossroads faces the Central Criminal Court and the famous Viaduct Tavern (which folk will remember from the “Go to Jail” square of the great Monopoly tour). And this is all because the actual verse from the Oranges and Lemons poem this time is “When will you pay me say the bells of Old Bailey”. Because we’d already covered the Viaduct Tavern (and other pubs in the area) we needed other suitable venues to hold the tour in to celebrate this pithy verse.
Magpie and Stump.
The first place, and rendezvous for the various elements of the tour to meet up in, was the superbly named Magpie and Stump, which is half way up Old Bailey itself on a little side street called Bishop Court. My journey there from deepest darkest Wimbledon was actually quite straight forward as a direct train takes you from Wimbledon Station all the way to City Thameslink Station on Ludgate Hill meaning it was just a 5 minute stagger from station to bar.
Gemma, (remember her? A bit scraggy? Hollow legs?) also had a nearby start location which was also just round the corner and her new job is obviously going so well she’s even brought along a new colleague who’s name slips my beer addled mind. But because there was a running joke between the two of them that she was dressed like a nun, I want to say it was something like Bernadette or Theresa.
So once they and I had found each other in the murky gloom of the Magpie and Stump we could take stock of what the place was offering. The beer was good certainly; I was making inroads into a very nice pint of Goddard’s Fuggle-Dee-Dum whilst I think the ladies were on some sort of grape based beverage at this point. The rest of the pub was also making a good impression being a mix of modern smartness and quirky history but why was it so dark? It may have been an effort to try to create a Dickensian appearance of candle lit atmosphere but personally it just gave me a headache as I couldn’t see who I was taking to.
Brenda agrees that it's just too dark in here.
And the others to whom I was trying to talk to came trooping in just a moment later. We had all the old faces including Buddy Rob, Munchkin Steve and New-Guy Mickey, but also so not so regular faces in Niresh and another blast from the Monopoly past of Stretch Arm Max, who like so many of these old veterans are no longer working for the old firm. There were also a couple of new faces of Mark and Ali who it turned out was my replacement and luckily I’d left not a too bad a mess on the desk as he didn’t want to fight me. Well not immediately anyway.
And completing the group, arriving but just 5 more minutes later were the lovely Lucy (remember her? Hair? Eyes? Accent?) and Nicole (remember her? Fringe? Fringe? And something that rhymes with Fringe?).
We stayed for another in the Magpie and Stump, Gemma, Bernadette and I plumping for pints of Bath Ales’s Gem (Gemma convinced it was named after her) which we all enjoyed to varying degrees.
Bath's Gem
The pub was a hit with the rest of the tour though with certain people claiming it was the best one every on any of the trips out. I wouldn’t have gone that far but by the time we left we were all in a good mood for the Church which was next on the list.
Good Mood outside the Magpie and Stump.
Just as we reached the door of the church, another tour group, this one looking professionally led by someone who knew what they were on about turned up and planted themselves not 5 yards from where our rag-tag bunch had gathered. It was therefore in a somewhat muted fashion that I told them that this was yet another Christopher Wren built church, rebuilt after the Great Fire of London and that it still houses a bell which was rung to notify a hanging in the Newgate Prison. The other interesting fact was that a former organist (no sniggering Brenda) was Sir Henry Wood who went on to found the famous series f concerts now known as The Proms.
Brenda can't help giggling at Sir Henry Wood's organ.
Because we were having to strike out to new ground for new pubs now I took the merry band of travellers further along Newgate Street to where the Holbourn Viaduct crosses over the A201 also known as Farringdon Street and formerly known as the River Fleet.
We descended down one of the set of steps on each corner of the bridge and emerged onto Farringdon Street having lost Gemma and Bernadette who were off to play netball (yes, quite) but the rest of us made the short walk south along Farringdon Street to the next two pubs which stand opposite each other. On the west side is The Hoop and Grapes, a Shepherd Neame owned pub and on the east side facing it, is the White Swan. But this place, never mind who owns it, was closed, hopefully only for renovations rather than a permanent closure, but wasn’t going to be giving the thirsty tourists anything close to liquid refreshment tonight.
Brenda looking gutted that the White Swan is closed.
Brenda looking much happier that the Hoop and Grapes is open.
So it was into the Hoop and Grapes and straight into the arms of possibly the drunkest man I’ve ever encountered on a Tuesday night. This suited and booted gent was well away with the fairies and if he wasn’t dancing on his own to Michael Jackson – “It’s Jacko the King, you’ve gotta dance to the King!” then he was shoving his Movember fuzz into everyone’s faces whether they wanted it or not.
Lucy, despite our pleas to the contrary, decided to strike up a conversation with him which only encourages his antics and it was to everyone’s relief when our jitterbugging hero called it a day around 8 o clock. “He was here since lunchtime” declared one of the barstaff which must have meant they were serving vodka jelly or something similar.
Lucy and Nicole encouraging some drunken old fool
There’s not really a lot else to talk about. Gemma reappeared, more Shepherd Neame drinks were drank and I worked my way though all of the Whitstable Bay offerings, the Pale Ale, the Organic Ale, the Oyster Stout and even the Blonde Premium Lager before stumbling home via Farringdon Tube Station, the branch of Upper Crust at Paddington and the rail replacement bus home.
Brenda ordering the Tuna baguettes on the way home.
Good to be back on the road and with only 3 more tours left on this one we might finish it before the end of the year……………or not.
