In his weekly The Bar Man column, Jeff Hoyle tells us about a trip to the capital…
‘When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life’ was the opinion of Samuel Johnson. Here was a chance to test his theory as we headed to the capital for a few days.
Life, no, but I am tired of trains, as the journey up to the capital was interrupted by the lack of a driver at Cambridge and the return was delayed 40 minutes by either an unspecified fault, red signals, or no space in Lynn until an up train had passed us at Downham. Maybe all three.
Still, that isn’t going to ruin our trip, especially as the capital was a sporting paradise. We could have chosen the Rugby Union Premiership final or the Rugby League Challenge Cup final, but what we were in town for was Major League Baseball.
The London (Olympic) Stadium was turned into a little slice of America and the fans were out in their numbers dressed in their team finery. The food options beat the FA Cup final at Wembley hands down with maybe a dozen baseball-themed options from which I would recommend the Philly cheese steak-covered chips.
The beer was another matter, with Heineken and associated brands the only option. No real ale here, though there seemed to be more free water points than in previous years.
This year, the game lived up to the occasion. The Mets rallied with three runs at the top of the ninth, leading 6-4 going into the final innings. The Phillies loaded the bases with no outs and scored a run on a walk. The next batter flied out but with the bases loaded and two outs remaining, they were still favourites. However, a 2-2-3 double play ended the game – for the first time since records began in 1940. And you didn’t understand a word of that did you?
What to do with the rest of the time? A look at the photographic exhibition at the newly remodelled National Portrait Gallery was on the agenda. Good pictures, but is the gallery any better after the millions spent there?
Next door, the queues for the National Gallery were snaking back across the square, but this is London, so a quick look on Google revealed an Angelica Kaufmann exhibition at the Royal Academy which fitted in well with the Women Artists exhibition at Tate Britain next day.
There was also an excellent John Singer Sargeant show there. Not only a great artist but also exactly 100 years older than me. Of course, there was time to eat and drink. From a cook-yourself Japanese restaurant, to a curry on Brick Lane there was plenty of choice.
Pubs too. With maybe 20 within a five-minute walk, it wasn’t hard to find some decent ale, though it seemed like a small victory when a pint and a half came in at under £10.
Travelling by bus allows a great view of the city, but they are almost as bad as the trains with four or five announcing ‘destination change’ mid-journey.
Other random things that struck me. The number of pubs sharing their name with a Prime Minister. We had a pint in the Chamberlain, saw the Robert Peel outside Liverpool Street station and passed the Palmerston and George Canning en route to the wonderful Horniman museum in Dulwich.
I estimate that under half of cyclists halt at red lights and a significant number of people walk around glued to their phones. Perhaps that explains the incessant sirens. Still, I reckon Johnson hit the nail on the head. I will be back again and I hope the baseball will also return.
bar.man@btinternet.com