The amount of time we had to wait for the bus from Fenchurch Street was rather worrying, and we were now beginning to think about contingency plans, in case the Stationlink service was about to grind to a complete standstill. But we did manage to get to the next stop, where we headed for the imaginatively named Railway Tavern on Liverpool Street itself.
Although the Railway Tavern is right next to the station, and therefore likely to be a little bit less deserted than most pubs in the Square Mile on a Saturday afternoon, there was something suspicious about the fact that, as we approached, we could clearly see that it was packed to the rafters with people. Mainly holding pints of lager. Mainly wearing football shirts.
And so it was that some members of our party – considerably more au fait with matters of football than myself – pointed out that it was some sort of Important Match in which England and Germany were competing for some sort of cup, plate, or other crockery.
Now, I've got nothing against football fans – indeed, some of my best friends are violently homophobic racists – and what these people get up to in the privacy of their own homes is their own business. But I do tend to get a little irked when I discover that a pub has been invaded by hundreds of people who've come just to watch football. As someone who's never quite understood the appeal of this sport, I am always bemused as to how people can be bothered to pile down to some pub in the middle of nowhere just to watch TV. I mean, they could be doing something constructive, like piling down to some pub in the middle of nowhere just because it happens to be on the route of some bus which stops at railway termini. Anyway, this is me pontificating on the issue, much to Al's amusement:
(Please note: I was joking about the homophobic racist thing; please do not inundate me with hate-mail. Or burn my house down in celebration when your team win.)
While my drinking colleagues earnestly watched the match (or however much was left of it) on the big screen, I seized the opportunity to take a well-earned trip to the toilet facilities, which I found to be of surprisingly high quality, thereby supporting the claim that the better the toilets, the worse the pub, and vice versa.
I can't remember how long we had in the Railway Tavern, though doubtless I spent most of it whingeing about the other people in the pub, but readers who are not English football fans may be delighted to learn that some sort of sports history was made that day, apparently.
I think my disgruntlement at the busy crowd affected my scoring, but that's the way the cookie crumbles. If they want my coveted high points then they shouldn't show football when I'm in the area. It's as simple as that.
| Robert | 2 |
| Pad | 6 |
| Simon | 6 |
| Tim | 6 |
| Alan | 6 |
| Average | 5.2 |
Still, all bad things come to an end, so we eventually left the pub for the nearby bus stop – but not before Tim and Simon decided to joyride a motionless tandem.
While waiting longer and longer for the SL2, we became increasingly nervous; but at least it gave us time to remember to take a picture of the Railway Tavern and its abundant foliage.
And no, that's not the Stationlink bus arriving. I know this for a fact because the Stationlink bus never turned up. And believe me, we waited a long time before deciding we were justified in "selling out" and using a different route instead. So, unknowingly, with four pubs left to visit, we had already caught our last Staionlink of the day. I can't say any of us were entirely surprised – if you live in London, this is exactly the sort of public transport reliability you come to expect. So we soldiered on with our alternative form of transport to King's Cross: the number 214.
Incidentally, if you think the photographs on this page are of poor quality, I can assure you that worse is to come. And it's not my scanner – we actually managed to take them like that. Or rather, Pad did – I'd like to take this opportunity to shift the blame in his direction, citing as evidence the fact that he features in virtually none of the pictures.