This night happened a couple of weeks ago when we all went out for Franks birthday party. It wasn't planned as a party, just a few pints on a mini pub-crawl around the Knightsbridge/Kensington/Chelsea area. I initially wasn't going to go, until I managed to sort the day off work.
We got the train up, Andrew and myself. We were on our way to join my brother and Frank to have some tasty beer, see some great British pubs in a beautiful, lavish and any fantastic descriptive you can come up with to describe this part of West London.
The first pub on the list, the pub we were going to, to meet my brother and Frank, was an old fashioned Fuller's pub in Belgrave Mews. To start the night, I had a pint of ESB, yummy. We drank a couple of pints in here, then headed out for another pint and maybe some food elsewhere. Before we all left, I made sure I went to the toilet to check out the wash basins. My brother had been telling me about them for most of the night so I had to see them for myself. There were two completely original Thomas Crapper sinks. They were fantastic, very large with elaborately decorated brackets holding them up. Then we left.
We all went in the direction of another pub, not having any specific one in mind though. We walked, and walked, and walked. Until we found a pub. Where it was I have no clue, then we all saw signs for the Victoria coach station. We managed to walk from Sloane square all the way to Victoria without realising. The pub was pretty standard, it had the feel of a Lloyd’s or Whetherspoon's. In the pub were signs up saying all about the popes visit.
We drank a pint and left.
It was getting pretty late now, most pubs were closed or closing, we went to a bar in Chelsea. To get there though, we went the wrong direction and ended up right next to Battersea bridge, nowhere near where we wanted to be. It was then, when we all realised we were lost, that I decided to have a sip of Cognac. I had brought a bottle with me just in case. Its always nice to have some alcohol for when you really might need it, or want it.
Eventually we managed to navigate our way there, using a mix of Google maps and our intuition. When we got inside, we were met with disappointment. All this greatness and grandeur and we couldn't have a piece. We could just look in from the outside. To get into the bar, you had to ring a door bell, then a bouncer would look through a flap, then open the door. The bouncer said it was a really busy night, he told us no. We all tried, but all received the same response, no. Andrew had a go, he talked and talked and managed to blag our way in. the bouncer waved us through.
The doorway to get in was wallpapered with images of Mickey mouse. I don't think that it is so appropriate, I think that Tin Tin would be much more suitable. I was taken aback by how pokey the place was. For some reason I pictured this huge room with lots of floor space with fancy chandeliers hanging all over the place. Not at all, on the contrary. It was cosy but far too packed, it felt very similar to being on the tube during the rush hour, just with the added extra of alcohol and music. The crowd was very reminiscent of the sort you would find in a Whetherspoon's pub, only of a different class.
Along the top of the bar were hooks, hanging from these hooks were tankards. On top of each tankard was a name plaque. They only served one ale, it didn't have the feel of a real ale pub and looking around at the people in there, none were the sort who drink real ales.
It took about thirty minutes to get served, when we got served and got our drinks, they went down too quickly and easily.
The best thing about the bar was its near empty dressing up box. Inside were treats like wigs and ponchos. I found this Clint Eastwood, Spaghetti western style poncho. I immediately put it on, it stayed on all night. I looked like a cross between a cowboy and a Mexican bandito.
I loved it, so much so that I tried to leave with it on when the bar closed. I would have taken it if the bouncer hadn't stopped me and told me to take it off. I played ignorant as to avoid any embarrassment.
The bar was called Bart's
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