Wilton's Music Hall

Wilton's Music Hall in Graces Alley, E1, is less than a five-minute walk from our London flat. It’s the oldest surviving music hall in the world and has stood in its current form since 1859. There’s also a bar selling cask beer that’s open to the public during performances.

We’ve owned our flat for 29 years and, despite always meaning to visit, we never quite got round to it. We hadn’t even walked past it. Last Saturday we finally corrected that oversight.

Just off Cable Street — where the East End fought Mosley’s fascists in the 1930s — you turn a corner and step straight into the past. it’s all a bit run-down outside, and even more so once inside: bare plaster walls, the odd bit of stone carving, and plenty of wood. It looks a relic of the past in every way, but it is fascinating. Much as we both enjoy a bit of Gilbert and Sullivan, we decided a full dose of Iolanthe wasn’t quite what we wanted that afternoon, so we popped in for a drink on our way further east. To the left of the impressive entrance doors is a sort of exhibition room cum box office and to the right the bar. It’s impressive in a slightly ramshackle, rather charming sort of way. All wooden floorboards, rickety non-matching tables and chairs with some church pew like seating round two walls. The bar itself is an ornate affair, and it serves, on this occasion at least, two Adnams beers on cask with another for a guest beer, not in use.

The clientele was quite something. As former season ticket holders at the Oldham Coliseum, they were of a type we sort of recognised; young women and men, in adventurous clothing looking as though they'd smeared themselves with superglue and dashed through a wardrobe; older, slightly unworldly types clutching paper plates of chips in one hand and a glass of wine in the other, searching fruitlessly for a seat. There wasn’t one. It was a refuge for people who appeared to have wandered in from slightly different realities.

On the beer front my Adnams Ghost Ship(in an Adnams glass) was just fine, while E appreciated her over measure Bitburger. We found a precarious spot against a wall to watch proceedings. This was about forty minutes before the performance started, and the place was busy, though mostly with wine drinkers.  Then came the usual countdown, delivered by a very sultry East-European-sounding voice for the start of the performance. The room quickly emptied until we were, suddenly the last customers.  As we emptied our drinks, the Front of House manager anxiously inquired if we'd missed the warning calls and seemed relieved that we hadn't. We left, leaving the bar staff to clear up chip plates, glasses and sundry debris ready for the interval and the returning patrons.

We enjoyed it a lot, though next time we’ll arrive when the doors open — if only to secure a seat. The rest was pretty well perfect.

 

The prices were  decent too, I think around £5.50 for the Adnams and £6 something for the Bitburger. The bar staff were obliging and cheerful, happily giving me a real glass, not plastic when I mentioned I wasn't here for the performance.  

Next up. Lost Pubs and Off piste in Limehouse 

A Trip to Poshley

I'm a bit of a fan of the Tweedy Pubs channel on YouTube. If you haven't come across it, Tweedy is something of a pub historian, wandering around London (and occasionally further afield) exploring pub history, architecture and stories. His videos have introduced me to corners of London I'd barely thought about before, and I've quietly built up a mental list of places I'd like to visit.

Last Friday after breakfast we had a little bit of business to deal with at the nearby Nationwide Building Society, and then had planned to wander towards town. As we dithered, a bit undecided, E suggested something better  why not do a Tweedy Pubs area?"  Maida Vale had caught my eye in one of the videos, so that quickly became the plan. Being just opposite Aldgate station, it was easy enough to hop on the Tube. We travelled down to Baker Street and changed onto the Bakerloo Line — wonderfully rattly and gloriously old-fashioned, running the oldest trains on the network, the 1972 stock. I’ve always had a soft spot for that sort of thing, having grown up in a railway family.

Maida Vale station lies deep underground and currently has only one escalator in service. We drifted slowly upwards while watching the opposite escalator, closed for renovation, where the brave were gingerly picking their way down the steep incline to the platform. We joked about attempting the same later with a full cargo of beer aboard — though as it turned out, that particular challenge never arose. 

Emerging into the daylight on rather a posh road and with a handy roadside map giving us our bearings, we set off down Elgin Avenue, along a very grand road to the proposed first stop, the Warrington Hotel.  What a beauty!  Grade 2 listed, with a portico entrance with imposing marble columns, the word "opulent" is the right one. I suggest you to have a look at what CAMRA says. It does it more justice than I could.

The outside of the pub had given us a foretaste and inside was even more grand. A pub though, no matter how ornate or humble, is only as good as its offering and here we were not disappointed. The landlady herself greeted us. Sharon was welcoming, friendly and happy to chat. Two cask beers were available, and I chose Twickenham Naked Ladies which was well-kept in this Good Beer Guide entry. Sharon also showed us a recently published book that mentioned the pub and outlined a suggested crawl around the local area. Most importantly, she gave us a firm recommendation: whatever we did, we shouldn't miss The Prince Alfred, just five minutes away down an even grander street than Elgin Avenue.

The walk didn't disappoint and took us in no time to the Prince Alfred, a Young's pub and again, a Grade 2 listed Victorian building.  Once more I will turn to CAMRA for a full description which you can read here. The pub was fairly quiet, but we settled into one of the snugs, both of us ducking under the low "pot boys" service doors mentioned by CAMRA.  Sadly, the welcome here was less than wholehearted and the beer, Young's Special in my case - Bitter was also available - was rather flat and over-vented, though the underlying taste wasn't too bad. Nonetheless, the whole experience of such an unspoilt pub was worthwhile and it may well have appealed more on a busier session. 

Across the road was Real Drinks a off-licence selling wine on one side and beer on the other. You can have a drink here, either on four keg lines or from the bottle with a reasonable corkage fee. We were warmly welcomed from the barman/ shop assistant, and settled on Augustiner Edelstoff for me and Helles for E.  The little space soon filled up and so jolly it was we stayed for two. Despite the location, the prices were very reasonable indeed, and the barman happily took E outside to point out some of the houses occupied by the famous.  Not that the names meant much to me. All popular culture passes me by.

We decided to call it a day for the area. Our nearest tube had become Warwick Road, a few hundred yards away, thus avoiding the precipitous stairs at Maida Vale. But we weren't quite finished and it was off back to Charing Cross for some Czech beer in the highly recommended Stranded on the Strand in cental London.  If you like Czech beer, offered either in UK or Czech style, this is for you. I enjoyed a couple of glasses of dark, while E had a glass of ordinary Budvar.  The place was busy which was gratifying as some had forecasted it wouldn't do so well. Next was the 15 bus and back to ours for a well deserved curry on Leman Street. 

 So Maida Vale? We enjoyed it.  The Warrington Hotel and Real Drinks offered totally different drinking experiences, but were extremely enjoyable. We missed out on others, so we'll be back. You can't say fairer than that. Recommended.

The curry was a touch confusing, as I had thought we'd agreed on a takeaway, but E thought we were eating in. We ate in!  At least the flat didn't smell of curry, though our clothes did.

The Czech beer is way better in the actual Czech presentation. Don't make the mistake of ordering British style just to get a pint. Two thirds Czech is the way to go. 

 

 

Rammed

We returned to London for the first time this year last Thursday afternoon. We should have been there earlier the week before, but we had overlooked the revamping of signals and track at Manchester Piccadilly, resulting in its effective closure and trains starting at Stockport. Bugger that, so we came a bit later, but as always after checking the flat, sorting out mail and whatnot, off we set for our usual first night venues. We are nothing if not creatures of habit, so first stop - the Aldgate Tap. We know the manager and the owner - both Johns - the latter of whom E had oddly bumped into the previous day in the Oxford Road Tap where she partook of refreshment before Priscilla Queen of the Desert. 

Alas, it was not to be. Thursday is the new Friday for office workers in post Covid London, and despite the large outdoor drinking area (which we always avoid anyway due to smokers), the inside was bedlam. It isn't that big and with a long queue - yes a queue - at the very small bar and every inch of space taken, we decided to abandon ship. It wouldn't have been pleasant, though no doubt it was very remunerative for the various Johns.

Plan B. Just across the road is the Three Tuns. This is a nice little boozer, with from experience, a very friendly landlady and a pretty acceptable pint of Harvey's Best. My main complaint about the place is that the seating is completely of the poseur table variety, which with high stools is uncomfortable at the best of times and more so when busy. But we needn't have worried. Outside was a merry throng of office worker types and a peer through the window rewarded us with a sea of backs and no visibility of the bar whatever.  Another hasty retreat was beaten.

What now? Well, one of the most attractive pubs in the area was just a few moments away. Craft Beer Co St Mary Axe is more or less under the Gherkin and internally a very appealing pub. Large windows, exposed brickwork, some lovely breweriana including both mirrors and enamels, the sort of lighting that just makes you want to stay. A good customer mix and decent mixed seating all help make for an attractive visit. What can possibly go wrong?  Well, try the usually odd selection of cask beers at your peril. They are in my experience, invariably from breweries that could do with taking a serious objective look at their offerings and served poorly at top dollar. So why go at all?  The ambience is just fine, and they do have London Black, albeit at a price.

The pub as always in London had quite a few standing outside, but there was a bit of room inside. We squeezed onto a table by invitation and I nipped to the bar for a London Black and a half of German pilsner for E. I then returned the bar to correct severe overcharging which I hadn't noticed at the time. As an aside, the cashless move often means a card machine being quickly thrust under your nose in a busy pub, in a way that means you often can't readily see what the charge is. The other side of the coin is it shows up instantly on my banking app, so my £15 charge for a pint and a half resulted in a £3.50 refund. Still about the priciest drinks of the weekend I believe.

Does that tale end there? Alas, no.  My nitro poured London Black looked suitably Guinness like at first, but within minutes, the head had all but disappeared, leaving a flat black liquid with a thin scum of head.  The gas was clearly in need of a fresh bottle or the regulator needed re-calibrating, but my heart wasn't in another complaint, so I endured, and we left as soon as we could. No amount of visual and sensory appeal can overcome poor beer. 

Now one poor pint in a three pub visit isn't a good outcome, so we went back towards our flat to the pub I mentioned in my last (long ago) blog. Ye Three Lords was busy with a decent crowd, and again we were invited to share a booth. The London unfriendliness myth was being shattered and while I still didn't trust the cask, Budweiser Budvar was very tasty and provided suitable refreshment in a very pleasant and comfortable atmosphere, which when you boil it down, is the name of the game.

So, what do I conclude?  Beer in London is still variable in quality. Some pubs are better than others - much like anywhere - and Londoners aren't that miserable, a theme that was repeated and confirmed throughout the weekend. Prices are ouchy and Thursday is indeed the new Friday.  With that settled we scuttled off for our usual first night in London Pizza Union evening meal.

I remarked to E while in Cask and looking at the Dryborough's mirror on the wall, that I'd bet the flat that I was the only one present that had ever drank Dryborough's beer. Hell, apart from E, probably the only one who's ever drunk Draught Bass, also represented on the brickwork. But I wouldn't have bet the flat on that!

Next up - yes there will be more, as London inspires me. Tales from Poshley aka Maida Vale coming soon.

You'll have to do without photos. I didn't take any.