85.
Visit to Rose and Giles in
Fittingly, the highest concentration of chavs in the country is in the
The Royal Blenheim is actually a decent
pub very near the centre of town and was nice and quiet on that evening which
is exactly what we were looking for. The beer must've been good then, and
indeed it was as they had a good range of Everard's
products - Original, Tiger and Reverend Something-or-other. The table was
somewhat ricketty, and I managed to spill my beer
which was apt as the beer mats were emblazoned with the legend 'Spillage
Idiot', much to the amusement of Smiley and Dave. Far from the Madding Crowd
was our last venue before we decided to go home (via kebab van) saving
ourselves for the festivities of the following day, though we did slot in a
night cap at the flat...
Unfortunately we did not save ourselves
well enough and Smiley in particular looked most bilious the following morning,
though a bacon and egg sarnie each sorted us all out
and we left the flat whilst it was still morning. There followed a leisurely
drive towards Bracknell; we had intended to stop at a
pub at Sonning and had irritatingly pissed about a lot
at Sonning Common which is actually nowhere near Sonning, and when we reached Sonning
we couldn't find the pub anyway. Eventually after much coarseness we stopped at
the Green Man1 in
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However, we had to get to Bracknell. Eventually we arrived, and no sooner than we had
done so, and admired Rose and Giles's ugly fish that they hope will die soon,
we were out and about again in the car. Our first pub was the Beehive at White
Waltham, a pleasant pub, though with not much antique charm, in a quiet
village. At the time we visited, the side room was furnished for a buffet,
presumably for the reception of the wedding of Chaz
and Cam which was polluting the TV screens. We decided to enjoy our beers
outside, next to the petanque court, away from the
TV. Four beers in total were available - Brakspear
Bitter, London Pride, Abbot and Loddon Flight of
Fancy which was a very nice light crisp beer. The barmaid had dyed ginger hair,
reminiscent of Toyah Wilcox in her youth though
exactly when, it's a mystery, and the bar itself was
well set out, with a good snack selection behind. Dave Wacey
also noted that the johnies were extremely
competitively priced, which could have been a useful piece of information had
anyone wanted to shag on a budget.
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Not far up the road was the New Leathern
Bottle in Jeallots Hill. This pub is set back
somewhat from the road and has quite a satanic looking plastic tree, complete
with face and menacing staring eyes, that children are able to play in if they
so choose. Once again we were greeted with a well appointed selection of beers,
London Pride, Greene King IPA, Fullers IPA, and again the Fullers IPA was very
good. Interiorwise, the pub was not that Olde Worlde, though looked a
little more rustic than the Beehive, and there was an excellent array of snacks
that included scratchings, chocolate, a multitude of
crisps and tins of olives in a dispenser. The clientele were a bit middle aged
though and it wasn't really somewhere that you could nestle into for a session
unless you were lucky - the bar area was crowded so we had to occupy dining
room chairs and ricketty tables instead, and again I
spilt my pint. Lack of beer mats necessitated a trip to the gents for some
paper towels, and at this point I took the opportunity to observe that they
were worthy toliets.
The nearby Shepherd's Flock is a larger
and more foody pub. However
it does have one splendid redeeming feature. This is the amazing display of a
hillside complete with sheep, the complement of sheep periodically changing,
and not through theft neither, for they are screwed down, but through addition
by acquisition. Rose and Giles are pictured below in front of the display and a
close-up of the house or perhaps pub, is also
provided. The pub itself is not that special, and appeared to be occupied by a
large family group with kids which is not what I
normally look for in these kinds of places. The beer selection was OK though
for such a place; in fact the Young's St Georges Ale was very good and I expect
that the Old Speckled Hen and Courage Best were also fine. The toilet though were infuriating: although immaculately tiled,
there was piss on the floor because they leaked as the pipe sealant had not
been applied properly; and worse than this, the bar music (not stuff like the
Stone Roses but shit like Westlife) was played in a
very tinny fashion via some ceiling mounted speakers.
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The Victoria Arms at Binfield
is a very traditional Fullers pub, but with some quite interesting features.
For example, the bar is of an island arrangement, and the bar itself on some
sides are more like bannisters - rather than having a
solid front there is a line of pillars. In actual fact despite the bar being of
an island arrangement, the pub manages to be split level inside. The front
windows are also very large, and there is an enormous collection of bottles
displayed in the roof void on one side, including on the joists. With such
promise the beer selection was reasonable. Fullers ESB, IPA, London Pride, Chiswick and Adnams Bitter were
on, although the Chiswick was slightly on the turn,
and the bar woman took the piss because we ordered halves. How rude! does she not appreciate that we were on a whistlestop tour? We had a nice chat around one of their
tables, but decided to leave when the Grand National was to be broadcast.
Another pub in Binfield is the Stag and Hounds,
situated on the fork of a road, it has a number of
bars and looks quite rural. The interior is quite cosy,
complete with oak beams etc. It also had a very large collection of tat, for
example a cupboard full of all sorts of old shit, and another cubby hole filled
with thimbles2. Anyway the beer was expensive in
this place and we only had the choice between Courage Best and Marston's Pedigree, the Satisfaction beer being off: cue
song (I can't get no) Satisfaction. A particularly fine landscape view
could be had from the bay window, in our view there
were additionally a couple of hippies who presumably owned the VW Camper van
parked outside.
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Last of the decent country pubs on the
Saturday was the Plough and Harrow at Newell Green. For some reason unbeknownst
to me, I joined Giles for a half of Addlestones Rough
Cider which normally makes me vomit although on this occasion I was OK, and it
fact it tasted almost tolerable. They also had Ruddles
County, Morland Bitter, Greene King IPA and Abbot
which were reported to have been in fine condition. Quite a nice relaxed bar
with a set of locals congregated around the TV watching the football results.
We however managed to amuse ourselves with a couple of games of bar billiards
which was most entertaining although we made a wise choice to leave when a
local challenged us to a game as he was probably a hustler of some sort.
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We drove back to Chez Rose and Giles to
drop off the car, and immediately headed out for some more Bracknell
pubs on the way to the curry house. In the event our first port of call was the
quite horrible Woodcutter, a large, recently built and characterless pub that
would likely fill up with chavs as the evening wore
on. We tried to have a game of pool, but a man with tattoos, a vest and limited
brain declared that he was using the table, though how he conveyed this
information is a wonder as he was barely able to string a sentence together.
Dave, Smiley and I had a vile pint of flat keg Worthingtons,
though Rose commented that the girly drinks were quite varied in selection. We
retired to another part of the pub to drink up. Along the way, passing a twat
who was speeding in a BMW, was the Crown Wood, another new fangled estate pub
although at least this was a little more welcoming, and they had some beer on
in the shape of Old Speckled Hen. We feel that they had the same carpet as in
the Woodcutter though. This was a little busier with TVs everywhere, but we
managed to get a seat in one of their many booths and watch the end of Norwich
beating Man United, and see that smug grin evaporate from Cristiano
Ronaldo's smug chops, although not by way of a thrown
punch. Alan Shearer was not involved in this match, so we could not shout '
The taxi despatched
us to the world renowned Balti King curry establishment where we were told that unfortunately we
would have to wait until 9pm for service. Fortunately however, we could wait in
the Green Man (Homme Vert)
pub just up the road, though this time the Green Man
on the sign was covered with turf. In the end we were in the pub for an hour,
and it wasn't too bad. They had a reasonable pint of Courage Best on, and the
architecture was much more appealing than the previous two pubs. They also did
a particularly cheap all day breakfast at £2.45, and their slobbery dog
was presumably installed to gobble up any spilt food. We had a most peculiar
conversation about how the National Lottery could be livened up by doing away
with the machines and having the ping pong balls extruded from a whore's fanny
instead. This must have been sparked by whatever was on TV, though I only
remember Who wants to be a millionaire
in which a guy that looked like Gary Coleman (whatyou
talkin' about Chris Tarrant) won a cool quarter of a
million. Eventually it was time to go back to the curry house, and we sat down
for an excellent curry and four varieties of popadum
chutney. All this was washed down with a pint of Kingfisher/Cobra; whatever
authentic Indian lager, brewed in Slough, they were stocking. I had nipped out
for a few bottled supplied for later which was just as well as by the time we
had finished it was almost 11pm and the best thing to do was to go back to Rose
and Giles's. A grumpy man in a Kia (though with
excellent seats) took us back, and got all agitated when Giles was trying to
open the door once we had reached our destination. Settling down in front of Match
of the Day, we were quite sensible and did not consume that much at all. We
all drifted off into a stupor to the gentle strains of the Father Ted
DVD reaching its end: D'you want a cup of tea Father?
Ah, go on, go on, go on...
The following morning, and
uncharacteristically but in fact excellently for us, we awoke early and made our
way to Tesco's for a slap up feed3,
which for some of us consisted of the excellent 13 item fry-up for £3.49
(though the 8 item one at £2.49 is perfectly acceptable) and some ogling
in the Daily Star. I was impatient to get my 13 items, which ended up
slopping off the edge of a small round plate. Rose and Giles waited and ended
up with oval plates and bean free laps.
Now this is the point where our hosts
think the proceedings end. Not so! Dave, Ed and I had resolved that it might be
a good idea to take in a pub on the way home, and what better way to go about
this than to locate the Bull in Sonning, which we did
by memorising the AtoZ
Berkshire maps in Tesco. After a reasonably
uneventful drive, we edged up the narrow lane to the Bull car park in the
village of Sonning, having found it successfully this
time. This is a very nice sprawling pub, with some tables in the courtyard, and
a much larger number of tables in a secluded raised garden area which must get
very busy during the Summer. There is even a hatch at
the side of the bar that allows service directly into the courtyard (see to
left side of picture below). It is quite large inside, with a very plush locals
bar, whilst the main bar is a bit more foody but very
rustic with low beamed ceilings. On the occasion of our visit, the bar staff,
though well turned out, were just about all male, though there were a couple of
moderate females on food duty. No doubt on busy days there are some very fit
specimens ferrying platters of chips around. Our beers were excellent too. I
opted for Bateman's XXXB, a notoriously heavy beer, but they had got it spot
on. The Gales Bitter was also excellent, and I assume that the Butser and HSB were also top
notch. All in all, this is an excellent pub, but choose
your visiting time wisely to avoid the crowds.
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Armed with the Good Beer Guide, we
decided to go through Checkendon as a couple of good
ones were listed there. Not bothering with the Brakspear
pub, the Four Horse Shoes, we went up a particularly narrow road in a roughly North easterly direction from the village. A little way up
the hill, the road opened out onto some sort of common where the Black Horse
was situated. This is a rural gem of a pub, though the idyllic atmosphere was
marred somewhat by some French kids in the garden. It is extremely rustic, and
is set out somewhat like a farmhouse, with a small bar accessible at one end,
and two other rooms, one a splendid parlour, for use
on inclement days. Treading our way carefully towards the bar, for the entrance
is not that wide, we were greeted with a choice of West Berks Old Father Thames
and Good Old Boy and Butler's Oxfordshire Ale or
similar, which were served straight from barrels situated in the adjoining
pantry. Although they were all very good, they were quite similar in
characteristics, and Smiley remarked that they really 'needed something to
pique the curiosity', say a stronger bitter, or an obviously lighter one, or a
mild, mmmm. The snacks selection did however pique
the curiosity, as they had some scratchings, crisps, chocolates and easily
accessible filled rolls. They might even have had some wet snacks in vinegar. Finally,
the toilets are of exceptional note. The picture of the gents below is it! I
presume that gentlemen requiring a shit may avail themselves of alternative
facilities, perhaps the ladies which is situated in the farm yard behind the
pub... A whopping 19 out of 25.
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Dave seemed to know the area well
following a post golf pint with Phil Cooper some months back, and we managed to
find our way somehow to another pub, the King William in Hailey, a little
hamlet above the village of Ipsden. There were all
sorts of magnificent views available at this pub. For example, one of the
pictures below shows that being perched atop a hill, alongside a road that
doesn't really go anywhere, allows a very peaceful sight over the fields where
lambs frolic. There is also a very good view of the rather cosy
and quaint bar which has Brakspear Bitter and Special
available to quite high quality. The pub itself is very nice,
if a little foody, but there is quite a good drinking
area near the bar with low beams and comfortable seats, but go outside
if you can.
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Our final stop of the expedition, where
Smiley had a half of shandy instead of a half of
beer, was the White Hart Hotel in Dorchester. As we were parking, we nicked the
parking space of a couple of birds (obviously lesbians) driving a blue Honda,
causing them to stare us out once we had settled. This
did not detract from our drinking and we proceeded with pace into the White
Hart. For a hotel it is actually very good, and comes well recommended. On
first entering, we nearly left as it looked a bit pine clad and trendy, but
there is actually a very fine room at the other end of the bar with a
collection of superb old bastard leather arm chairs which are well worth
spending a relaxing afternoon/evening in getting shitfaced.
It's not unpalatable beer either, even though it's only Greene King IPA, Tetley
and Burton, though I imagine that at least one of these will rotate to
something else sooner or later that is a bit more interesting. They also have a
very good selection of bar snacks, including free nibble in bowls on the bar
(wash your hands on returning from the toilet please!), and the experience was
completed by a good solid collection of barmaids.
With that, the crawl was over; our mission
to the Machine Man in Long Wittenham was thwarted as
it was closed, as was our stop at the George in Littlemore,
on account of it not having Gales Festival Mild. However, we had had a splendid
weekend, and getting moving on the Sunday allowed a leisurely sampling trip
back, and gave Smiley time to have a cup of coffee before heading back, whilst
we fell asleep in front of the US Masters golf.
1 this provoked
a quite random conversation about the Green Man or Homme
Vert in French, which culminated in the fact that Guiseppe Verde, an Italian Composer perhaps, was plain old
Joe Green. That's the wind taken out of his sails.
2 or as Smiley referred to them, I believe with
reference to Peter Pan, a collection of kisses.
3 I also managed to finish off the best part of a
large bottle of Courage Directors in the car on the way there which was left
over from the previous evening.
Dan
Lovegrove
dan@doctor-lovegrove.com
Last updated 17th April 2005.