![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
In which Bryan plays fast and loose with his tenses.
Thursday, August 1st, 2013 03:14 pmDidn’t feel so clever for part of yesterday. Not enough quality sleep, plus some dehydration, I guess. Not quite a hangover, but the effects of alcohol and a late night superimposed on a hot day.
Tuesday, you see, was the sister-in-law’s birthday and we disappeared, straight from work, into deepest Leytonstone to celebrate.
The journey was easy enough, though I thought for a few moments that I was going to fall foul of a regular curse for people who use the Tube in that anytime you intend to use it for a journey you don’t normally make, and time is limited, then something goes wrong. Having decided that my best route was District Line to Mile End and then Central to Leytonstone, I ventured underground and walked down the platform to the right instead of my customary left. Ironically there was a Circle Line train on the platform and on pretty much any other day I should have been trying to cram onto it, but for once I didn’t want it.
And then I waited. The Circle Line train waited and I waited some more. The announcer tells us that there is ‘passenger action’ at St James’s Park and recommends people find alternative routes. My shoulders slump, a bunch of people bad-humouredly bail off the train and head for the exits. The doors promptly close and the train leaves after all. My spirits return to normal.
Thereafter it is all routine – train to Mile End, change and off at Leytonstone.
The walk to the pub was a little longer than I anticipated, but it wasn’t too far. The North Star is a fine little East End Pub, well run by a friendly landlord and off the main street. The area looks pretty much like any South Essex village and this part at least has retained some of the character many places must have lost when the urban sprawl spread out and engulfed them.
The weather was warm, but not stifling and three pints later, the six of us decamped to walk back towards the station, debating the relative merits of Thai and Turkish cuisine. It was a close run thing, but we plumped for Turkish and visited a smart little restaurant right next to the bus station, where we proceeded to eat rather more than was probably wise and get through a good half bottle of wine each.
Around 10.40 Furtle and I got the bus home and collapsed into bed somewhat worn out, though I found time for a nice cup of tea, of course.
I have to say that despite being a 40 minute bus journey away, with a 10 minute walk at the other end, I could get used to that pub. I should like to transport the Gin Palace to that area. It has more choice and feels rather more lively than does Ilford, without being manic. I reckon that all told we’ll try the place again. Maybe going for a Thai meal next time. Compare and contrast, that sort of thing.
Tuesday, you see, was the sister-in-law’s birthday and we disappeared, straight from work, into deepest Leytonstone to celebrate.
The journey was easy enough, though I thought for a few moments that I was going to fall foul of a regular curse for people who use the Tube in that anytime you intend to use it for a journey you don’t normally make, and time is limited, then something goes wrong. Having decided that my best route was District Line to Mile End and then Central to Leytonstone, I ventured underground and walked down the platform to the right instead of my customary left. Ironically there was a Circle Line train on the platform and on pretty much any other day I should have been trying to cram onto it, but for once I didn’t want it.
And then I waited. The Circle Line train waited and I waited some more. The announcer tells us that there is ‘passenger action’ at St James’s Park and recommends people find alternative routes. My shoulders slump, a bunch of people bad-humouredly bail off the train and head for the exits. The doors promptly close and the train leaves after all. My spirits return to normal.
Thereafter it is all routine – train to Mile End, change and off at Leytonstone.
The walk to the pub was a little longer than I anticipated, but it wasn’t too far. The North Star is a fine little East End Pub, well run by a friendly landlord and off the main street. The area looks pretty much like any South Essex village and this part at least has retained some of the character many places must have lost when the urban sprawl spread out and engulfed them.
The weather was warm, but not stifling and three pints later, the six of us decamped to walk back towards the station, debating the relative merits of Thai and Turkish cuisine. It was a close run thing, but we plumped for Turkish and visited a smart little restaurant right next to the bus station, where we proceeded to eat rather more than was probably wise and get through a good half bottle of wine each.
Around 10.40 Furtle and I got the bus home and collapsed into bed somewhat worn out, though I found time for a nice cup of tea, of course.
I have to say that despite being a 40 minute bus journey away, with a 10 minute walk at the other end, I could get used to that pub. I should like to transport the Gin Palace to that area. It has more choice and feels rather more lively than does Ilford, without being manic. I reckon that all told we’ll try the place again. Maybe going for a Thai meal next time. Compare and contrast, that sort of thing.