I am so happy its March. I am even happier that the flowers are coming out. But why is it so damn COLD? The Wig and I ventured outside to our local pub for a Sunday Roast in totally inappropriate clothes today however, we will brave any extremes of temperature in our hunt for food. We usually like to cook at home on the weekend but for some reason today we thought we'd sample the local wares. And we had no food at home. I really don't understand how this happened. We are usually stocked up to the hilt in case of a nuclear war with essentials ranging from Pork Chops to Advokat.
Anyway, we went to The Spurstowe on Greenwood Road which is about a 7 minute fast trot from the flat and today, via some rather beautiful spring flowers. It was a dump of a pub for years and then around 4 years ago some youngish chaps bought it and now its our groovy local. I saw Henry Holland in there once. It was, however, my first roast dinner there and I'm very sorry indeed to say that it wasn't great and at £14.00 for a roast beef roast I think it was rather over priced. The plate was too big so the food looked lost, when actually the portions were very generous, but the gravy was very thin, the yorkshire was made with wholewheat flour (?!?!**??!!) and my beef was the tube-iest thing I've ever had the misfortune to lay eyes on. . .Gag . . . The service was great though. And my cranberry juice, delightful. Unfortunately I can only give the roast dinner 6 beef veins out of a possible 10. There was no question that points were deducted for the wholewheat yorkshire. Who ever heard of such a thing.
After the lunch, we got on (the wrong) bus and headed over to Camden. I don't make a habit of going to Camden since I find it rather grubby and that's saying something for someone who lives in Hackney. The last time I went to Camden was to see some Mexican Wrestlers at the Roundhouse which The Wig had organised but that was at least 2 years ago. The reason for going today though was to see my old boss in his band, 'Police Dog Hogan', playing a gig at a pub. When I say my old boss, I also mean my first boss when I moved up to London. He owns and runs a very successful Production Company in Soho which I have extremely fond memories of. I made some very good friends there, got to see some of the world, had some amazing experiences and got through a lot of white wine and peanuts in the reception area.
The venue for the gig was the The Golden Lion on Royal College Street and was a most unusual place for live music. The layout of the pub is rather like a long corridor with a bar in it, so at the back of the 'corridor' you had a vibrant selection of locals, or a "mixture of textures" as my friend would refer to them as. This particular selection included the obligatory bearded lady and flatulent old man, and then towards the front of the 'corridor' you had the rather more up market blue grass and country fans dressed in cowboys shirts with the odd stetson thrown in for authenticity. The pub was extremely busy and The Wig and I found ourselves in the dangerous position of straddling the invisible border line between the two distinct groups. Being jostled by a woman with a beard was an experience I could have done without.
The music was brilliant though and well worth the trip out despite the arctic temperatures and potent air. I would recommend trying to catch them live at some point soon as its real toe tapping, put you in a good mood type music. My favorite song was called "Shitty White Wine", the story of my life.