Tour 9 - From Canada to New Zealand

You know buses? You know how supposedly you wait for ages and then 3 come along at once? Well for me my current analogy for buses are my new colleagues at my new company. Well here again, I say “new” yet I’ve been there for over a year and I’ve still not managed to get even a tiny whiff of interest in anyone accompanying me on one of the fabled pub rambles.

Weird isn’t it? I mean, who wouldn’t want to come down the pub with me and colour in a flag? That’s surely got to be better than nature documentaries.

Anyway, in this particular episode the buses finally came screaming round the corner in the shape of 4 work colleagues and 2 partners of those said colleagues. (I mean that two of the work colleagues were accompanied by their partners, not that the four colleagues share two partners between them! What sort of a perverted company do you think I work for?)

I guess the only perverted thing in some respects was that the buses that these colleagues had had to catch to come on the tour had travelled the 4,780 miles from Seattle or the 4,794 miles from Hyderabad to take part in the tour.

I guess I’ll have to keep working on those UK based colleagues.

Anyway, the tour from the Wimbledon office started with a rather labourious and tortuous train journey to Waterloo and then a cramped, labourious and tortuous tube journey along the Jubilee Line to Green Park (standing next to a drag queen) where we emerged into a dark damp and generally thoroughly nasty November evening.

Luckily the walk to the first pub wasn’t too far and we did have the distractions of several luxury cars lining the well-heeled kerbsides of St James as well as the bright lights of the well-known frontage of The Ritz to entertain our foreign guests and give them a flavour of this area of London.

When planning this particular tour and discovering that one of the High Commissions was located in St James, I desperately searched around for some new pubs that we hadn’t tried before but alas I could only come up with 2 suitably located watering holes that we’d previously visited as part of the Pall Mall square of the Monopoly Tour. But just to make sure that I would still be able find these places and the other ones I’d organised, I used one of my days holiday the previous week to do a quick practice tour around the streets with the benefit of daylight….which also explains why some of the photos weren’t taken on the evening and that you can actually see what’s going on in them.

My daytime route took me from Victoria Station via Buckingham Palace so I approached St James from the southern end and as I approached the first pub I noticed one particularly well appointed house and garden with a whole array of flags flying in the grounds. This turned out to be Marlborough House, the headquarters of the Commonwealth Foundation, so the omens should be good for this tour. Maybe they’ll let me hold the after-tour-completion party there?

Anyway, back to the night in question.

The first pub was The Red Lion, a cracking little boozer tucked down Crown Passage and when we visited last time it was almost deserted and I was hoping that its secret location would work this kind of magic again. Unfortunately it wasn’t so and a healthy crowd of early evening drinkers were spilling out of the door in the passage itself.

Richard tells our visitors the role he played in the war of independence.

I forced my way to the bar and decided on a policy of simplicity by ordering everyone a pint of St Austell Tribute and told them to try and secure as many stools as possible. As I was at the bar I bumped into Richard who had made it to the meeting point in good time and told me that he’d just received a message from Buddy Rob and New Guy Mickey that they were also in the Red Lion.
With Richard and I joining the rest of the work colleagues who had done very well by securing not only stools for everyone, but a table in the packed pub, we worked out that Buddy Rob and Mickey had made it also to The Red Lion, it’s just that they were at the wrong one. By now Spikey Haired Ed had also arrived so it was electronic devices to the front as we made contact with the two lost souls and directed them to the right place.

One pint was enough in The Red Lion so once Buddy Rob and Mickey had arrived we finished up and made our way back to King Street and a different coloured lion in the shape of The Golden Lion, where last time we had an experience with a pair of red high heels and I still have photographic evidence to prove the encounter.

No shoes or Scotch eggs feature in this photo.

There were no shoes on display tonight but there were Naked Ladies in the shape of the pints from Twickenham Fine Ales and we once again struck it lucky by getting a table in the well frequented pub.

Several of the tour took the opportunity to take in some sustenance and there was a flurry of orders for Scotch eggs and other fine food stuffs and when Mr Cheese finally arrived he was just in time to treat me to said Scotch egg which I have to say was very welcome indeed. There was just time for a swift half as Richard’s son Paul turned up last for the second tour in the row.

Cyprus

So with the full complement of the tour now in position it was time to complete the first High Commission of the night and it was but a short stroll from the Golden Lion to St James’s Square along King Street. A sharp left turn saw up approaching the north-west corner where the premise of the High Commission for Cyprus lives.

Halloumi

Although darkness had well and truly fallen by this time, the flag was still flying proudly outside and the tour had ample time to log the colours for the necessary colouring challenge later….or so we thought.

3 Prime Ministers lived here. None wanted to come out tonight.

We continued around the square passing the many blue plaques that are littered around like discarded chip wrappers and dodging the sleek black limos that were prowling in circles around the square.

The route took us from the east side of the square along Charles II Street before taking our lives in our hands by crossing Regent Street. Just off Charles II Street is the Royal Opera Arcade and when I’d carried out my recce earlier in the week this was almost un-enterable (?) due to the road works along the street. Tonight, not only were the road works in a much more advanced state but the London Beer House at the entrance to the arcade was open and serving beer.

Alas I couldn’t persuade the tour to stop and in reality we’d have never all have fitted into the small premises anyway. So our route had to lead us across Haymarket (another lives in our hands moment) before pausing momentarily across the road from New Zealand House and taking a photo of your truly in between the passing buses.

We’ve seen some different High Commissions so far but I reckon that New Zealand’s has to be by far the ugliest so far. A big concrete monstrosity that doesn’t even have the retro charm that some brutalist building now seem to endear. I’m glad I didn’t have to get any nearer for my photo.

Ugh.

The final High Commission of the evening advertised itself from several hundred yards away in the same fashion that Australia had done previously. Canada certainly seems loves a flag and at least we’d found the real Canada House this time instead of the wild goose chase I’d led everyone on during Tour 3.

Canadian Flags.

We weren’t planning to immediately visit the High Commission itself as the next pub of the evening should have been The Two Chairmen, tucked down the side of Warwick House Street, but the signs of the black windows and the locked door told another story and we soon knew we wouldn’t be getting a drink there tonight.

Dark and closed.

If I’d planned the route with a bit more care I could have quickly led the troops to The Admiralty, a Fuller’s pub on the south side of Trafalgar Square (and also took advantage of another free pint) but instead we crossed the road and took the obligatory photos outside the grand door of Canada House.

More Canadian Flags.

Canadian Knockers.

It would have been nice to have seen Trafalgar Square in all its glory instead of trying to peer through the gloom to make out the lions and what was on the various plinths at the moment but we didn’t linger too long and instead made our way out the north side towards Leicester Square and hit the welcoming arms of The Chandos on the corner of William IV Street.

Plinth.

Cooper.

This is a pub I’ve longer to visit for quite a while as it features an animated cooper on the top floor who faithfully bangs a nail into a barrel at all hours of the day….also it’s a Sam Smith’s pub and these are always good for a cheap London pint. Spikey Haired Ed also has fond memories of the place but you’ll have to ask him about these.

It’s not the most picturesque of Sam Smith’s pubs having a rather more functional look than the nice shiny varnished wood that you see in some of their premises but never the less the organic wheat beer is always nice and once again we did manage to secure a huge table around which I could set the tourists their colouring challenge.

The newbies are the ones colouring. Buddy Rob and Mickey look on with sardonic uninterest.

I have to admit that perhaps the colouring element of the tour is becoming a bit passé dare I say, fucking boring, as the regular tourists all ensued a chance to win another great prize and were more than happy to let the newbies attack the colouring with a fervour that did them all proud.

And let’s also put to bed once and for all the cliché that apparently Americans don’t know anything about any other country unless that particular country plays some silly stick and ball game. Not true as the colouring examples here show. When it came to the judging it was a toss-up between Kendahl and Lauren’s efforts and I decided that Lauren’s sheet just edged it in terms of a better blue in the New Zealand flag. There was time for a steward’s enquiry as it seemed that she’d coloured the Cypriot olive branches black instead of…well, olive but the decision stood and she was well deserving of her prize of a Poppy Day poppy pin.

I gracefully did not deduct marks for the spelling of coloured.

Hopefully the evening didn’t take a maudlin turn as I explained how the inspiration for tonight’s prize was the acknowledgement that Remembrance Day also commemorates that thousands of deaths from Commonwealth Countries as well as British lives and we decided that a suitable end to the evening would be found in arms of The Harp next door.

Again for those who remember previous visits, The Harp was where Aussie Pete had his run in with a charity collector but tonight there was no such entertainment as we took our drinks (mine being an oatmeal stout) to the upstairs room which as someone commented, could have the owners sitting room with them having just popped out.

There was then a round table discussion on the differences between US and UK TV shows of which the finer points may have passed me by. Just like the time which showed that I had to make a move for Charring Cross station in time to get the tube round to Paddington in time for the last train. I left the others in the middle of (the) Strand* as they made a decision as to whether to get some more food. I guess some American clichés are perhaps quite true……

* it’s a running joke thing…..read the other blogs.

Tour 7 - From Brunei to Trinidad and Tobago

Some top notch exciting news to start this latest episode of the blog, which now it seems, is getting some international attention.

Eagle eyed readers of the blog will have noticed that on the right-hand side of the Flying the Flag blog (which you’re reading at the moment) there is a link entitled “High Commissioners - They were invited” which links to Wikipedia’s article on what exactly a High Commissioner is. Last week on Twitter, my @BGCollector account was followed by none other than someone called DM Kirk-Sargeant who describes themselves as a Consular Officer at the New Zealand High Commission in London!

I'm still following you....if that makes any difference......?

So unless this person is on a mission to follow all tweeters who swear constantly about rail travel, she presumable found me via this blog. Needless to say, this meant my mind went into overdrive about how we could celebrate this momentous happening, especially when we finally get around to covering the NZ High Commission in a few episodes time.

However, upon checking these facts as I was writing this, it looks like all these grand plans might be scuppered because I see that after only one or two days of following, Ms DM Kirk-Sargeant no longer follows BGCollector. (Sad face emoticon) So maybe the constant train related swearing put her off……….but the invitation to any other consular staff remains open! (Leering grin emoticon)

Now, here again there’s a short story behind why the tour was arranged for this particular day, in this case a Wednesday. It was because another friend from the place I lay my hat every evening was in ye olde London town for a jolly. Needless to say that whilst this day suited Andy down to the ground, it wasn’t so popular with the feminine contingent of the tour who once again complained about missed episodes of The Great British Bake Off.

But as with most things, the dirty black Paul Hollywood shaped cloud on the horizon was instantly lifted by the fact that surely between the wonders of iPlayer and the enticement of the colouring competition prize for this time being some BGC crafted cakes, there would be no-one who’d want to miss this one……would there?

7 Baked Perfections........thank the lord for ready icing.

Well with my air tight Tupperware box bulging at the seams with 7 baked perfections I set off only to find that not only would most of the regulars not being making it after all (apparently due to having to work late) but Andy himself wouldn’t be making it due to a chipped tooth! Well perhaps it was best that he wouldn’t be eating cakes then in that case.

But there’s no way that this reduction in attendee numbers would stop the tour going ahead and any way, I did still have two confirmed attendees in the handsome shapes of Mr Cheese and everyone’s favourite chocolate fudge packer, Spikey Haired Ed.

So, surely the question still on every readers’ lips is why there were “7 baked perfections” and what exactly was making them so perfect. So the first question is easy to answer in that the next High Commission alphabetically was Brunei and with their ambassadorial building being located near to Belgrave Square, this epicentre of Embassies saw 6 other High Commissions all within easy walking distance.

My emergence point, Harrods's famous green shades. All downhill from here.

The meeting point for this marathon was the “only pub on Sloane Street”, the Gloucester and if you want to know how I know it’s the only pub on Sloane Street…..well it says so on the door. Now you may take one look at the photo of the pub here and conclude that this particular tour was taking place on a pleasant balmy mid-September evening. Nothing in fact, could be further from the truth as the weather was atrocious with lashing rain and the ominous signs that the evenings are closing in far, far too early for my liking.

I had plenty of time to contemplate the weather as I made it to the pub well over an hour earlier than the other two, which did give me time to order a pint of One Stop Hop from Sadlers Ales courtesy of the pretty red-haired barmaid and grab a stool in the window which allowed me to watch the people entering the pub and the bouncing rain in front of the Gucci shop opposite.

Pretty

Pretty soggy.

Next to me in the other corner by the window were a strongly accented Scottish couple who were polishing off a couple of burgers with gusto. So much gusto in fact that when the pretty red-haired barmaid came to collect their plates, the strongly accented lady commented, “you couldn’t get DNA from that plate!” – It might have been something more like “ye cuddne’ get DNA from that plate”, but that would be insensitive.

Now this would be interesting enough on its own but then as the couple were leaving they were approached by another strongly accented curly haired chap, who proceeded to shake the other chap’s hand (with gusto) and proclaim how he was a boyhood hero. (I mean how the other guy was a boyhood hero of the curly haired chap – not that he was a boyhood hero of himself!) I then gathered from mentions of “fitbaw” and “the ‘gers” that this was an ex-Rangers football star. I’d love to be able to finish off this anecdote by revealing his exact identity but also I can’t….so if you think you know the mystery footballer, please let me know.

Any further soccer related ponderings were laid to rest as Spikey Haired Ed made his grande entrance, just in time to buy me a pint of Curious Brew lager from Chapel Down. There was just about enough time for Ed and I to catch up on who is currently pissing him off the most at the “old place” and capture the Cask Marque certificate from its location by the bar, when Mr Cheese made his sopping dripping entrance, just in time to buy me another pint of One Stop Hop.

Our companions for the evening.

Luckily the rain was holding off for the present time as we made our ways along Harriet Street and down Lowndes Square to the bottom corner and the location of the High Commission for Pakistan. This was the first High Commission that we’ve visited so far that had some security people loitering outside and although none of them had the stature of “Steve” from the Jeremy Kyle show it was enough to make me miss taking the traditional BGC gurning photo by the brass plaque and instead make do with a very murky shot of the flag.

We continued down Lowndes Street until it bends into Chesham Place where the huge German Embassy lives on the corner. Just next door is the smaller High Commission of Lesotho and although their flag was out, it seems we’ve only got the shot of the gurning BGC to record this event.

Gurning at Lesotho.

Following the route round into Belgrave Square proper it was flags everywhere and it was only moments until we’d bumped into Brunei and the subsequently Ghana as we completed the west side of the square. Just round the corner is the hidden little gem of the Star Tavern which is where the Great Train Robbery was planned…..apparently.

Brunei (left) and Ghana (Right)

Whatever the pub’s dubious past it’s now a very smart and welcoming place and with yet another Fuller free beer voucher in my grubby mitt, I was happy enough to get the round in of pints of Oliver’s Island for Rob and I and Discovery for Ed. I even pushed the boat out to get the crips in!

Memory seems to suggest that we planned nothing greater than how Jeremy Corbyn was shaping up after his first week in power and it was probably just a shame that news of David Cameron and the pig hadn’t broken at this point ‘cause we may have stayed for another pint in that case.

There was just enough time to visit the quite posh loos before leaving the pub and trooping back to Belgrave Square before detouring off the north face by walking up Wilton Crescent and stopping at the High Commission of Singapore for another shot of the face that only a mother could love.

Rounding the rest of Wilton Crescent we ducked down Wilton Row to a pub that is even more well-hidden than the Star Tavern, in the shape of The Grenadier which again has an interesting history in that it was originally the Officers Mess for the 1st Regiment of Foot Guards and all I can say is that there can’t have been many of them back in 1720 as it’s a tiny little place with possibly more room in the scarlet sentry box that stands to attention outside.

But although room was at a premium we still managed to find a suitable place next to the bar to drink our pints of Wild Hare from Bath Ales and find the Cask Marque certificate which was propped on a nearby table.

 An interesting story from the pub’s website retells how there was a young Grenadier, who when caught cheating at cards was beaten to death by his comrades. Apparently “Cedric” haunts the pub to this day, especially in September (!) and locals have attempted to pay off his debt by pinning money to the ceiling. Something I noticed and photographed without realising why all the cash was there. Hope Cedric didn’t mind.

Cedric's Cash.

Wilton Crescent brought us back round to the east side of the square and we walked briskly past the Malaysia High Commission before getting a little lost in hunting down the last High Commission of the night, Trinidad and Tobago, before finding the final pub of the night, The Horse and Groom hidden away (a theme of the evening it would seem) down Groom Place.

There's a Malaysian flag there somewhere.

The pub was befittingly bedecked in flags but they were there to celebrate the Rugby World Cup rather than my Flying the Flag pub tour. But we were still welcomed like conquering heroes, especially when after we’d settled down with our pints of something or other and finally opened up the Tupperware of 7 baked perfections. They certainly attracted the interest of Derek and Jennifer, a pair of likely candidates from a nearby travel agents (well that’s what they said) and fascinated to hear about the trials and tribulations of the Flying the Flag tour.

There wasn’t much more to be said or done, other than make a last minute visit to one of the smallest toilets ever before being very good naturedly shown to the door by the barman who was already mopping the floor by the time we’d gathered together our bags and coats.

Tiny Toilets.

Oh….and if you were wondering who won the colouring competition then it was neither of them as they both failed with soggy bottoms.

Soggy Bottom.

Oh piss off then.

Tour 4 - From Bangladesh to Zambia

Variety, as they say in the Heinz baked bean factory, is the spice of life, as long as all of those spices taste of sugary tomato ketchup of course. And so it was with the latest installment of the Flying the Flag saga, as this time we wouldn’t be meeting in a post-work fatigue of exhaustion and overwork, but instead on a bright summer’s Saturday when all sensible people would be down B&Q or slumped in front of the TV.

The memorial erected to celebrate the BGC.

The reason for moving this was two-fold. Firstly, for a number of weeks now, old friend and former Monopoly Tour two-timer Slowpoke Sam and I had had a visit to the Brunel Museum in Bermondsey arranged and it felt like completely the right thing to do would be to try to combine this with a few High Commission linked watering holes at some point.

Your guides for the day.

Then I researched the next episode of the tour, (remember the one that will cover Bangladesh) and discovered that the Kensington High Street area of London (where the Bangladeshi High Commission is) is home to an absolute plethora of Embassies and High Commissions and the route would cover no less than 7 such establishments. Add to this the fact that the precise location of the pubs in this area would mean the route would be a case of “meet in pub 1 – walk around all 7 HCs – tour round the other 4 pubs” I reckoned that if I sprung this on a load of tired workers at about 6 in the evening, I may have a mutiny on my hands.

The flags of the seven High Commissions - Before and After

So therefore, this very round-about way of an introduction is just saying that, Sam and I decided to forget the idea of the museum, after all I bet it’s just full of chains and top hats, and  just treat ourselves to a leisurely stroll around Kensington with a little bit of photography thrown in. Sam was also extremely excited as this planning would almost certainly mean he would romp away with the colouring prize for this week.

What neither of use expected were three things; firstly it turned out that our chosen Saturday was also the date of London’s Gay Pride March. Secondly, our route from Paddington to Kensington, a supposedly genteel perambulation across Hyde Park would also mean crossing the stage of a Taylor Swift concert. Finally, when I advertised to the rest of the tour faithful that we were planning a Saturday tour, fully expecting a raft of “oh, sorry can’t make it, I’m off down B&Q” type excuses, the tour’s version of the Golden Girls only went and said that they’d love to meet up, hangovers providing.

The Royal College of Music gets into Mauritius Day.

So for Sam and me, the day started at the local train station packed aboard the 10 am train to Paddington, along with a carriage full of young men in very well coiffured hair, tight jeans and at least one of them with no shirt on. It could have only been because it was a hot day, I’m just describing the scene, that’s all. An hour later and we were tentatively entering the Tyburn, that awful Wetherspoon’s pub that we first set foot in on the Park Lane episode.

The chair graveyard.

The pub hadn’t changed much for the better. There were at least 7 (seriously, I counted them) security people guarding the entrances to the pub and it seemed that the pub now only uses plastic glasses to serve its beer in. Add to this, even though the pub was full of morning breakfast eaters and breakfast drinkers, half the tables hadn’t been laid out, leaving a huge stack of chairs in one corner, looking very much like a wooden version of the elephants’ graveyard.

Sam quickly settled his train ticket debt by buying me a bacon sandwich and a half of Jack Brand Mosaic Pale Ale from Adnams, a very nice citrusy refreshing summer ale only spoilt by the previously mentioned plastic glasses. The Tyburn isn’t a place to hang around and indeed after our hurried breakfasts it was time to go, but not before I’d made a visit to the amazingly impressive toilets. It might take you 10 minutes to get there, after you’ve negotiated the steps down to the basement and the miles of corridor to the loos, but they are well worth it…..now they just have to carry this sort of standard of décor and luxury to the rest of the pub.

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 Best toilets of the day.

So the day by now was heating up very nicely. Only the most hard-hearted of souls could not have felt some level of sympathy for the bus loads of G4S security people who were being bussed into the North East corner of Hyde Park ready to protect Taylor Swift from the thousands of pre-teen girlies patiently queuing, who would probably rip her limb from limb without a second thought crossing their pink-frilled minds.

Sam and I, however, had the South West corner of Hyde Park on our minds and it was a pleasant, if not rather sweaty walk across this vast expanse of greenery until we eventually emerged out onto Kensington Road.

The starting point was supposed to be a pub called The Goat, located bang on the point Kensington Road turns into Kensington High Street but Sam had other plans that involved a bit of light shopping at the local branch of Whole Foods.

Points for identifying the one Commonwealth flag.

I’ve never stepped foot in one of these places but Sam’s not stopped raving about them since he popped into the branch at Cheltenham and emerged 4 hours later when he discovered that they had a “in-store” bar complete with draught beer. Unfortunately for us, although the Kensington branch was similarly equipped with a bar, it was unmanned and we decided to give our custom to the pub rather than to a place that charges over 4 quid for a bowl of nachos. But, they do do a nice line in decorative flags so the omens were boding well for the day.

The Goat - Complete with electricity.

So back to The Goat. First impressions was that this was an amazingly quiet and air conditioned oasis of calm after just the 50 yards or so of Kensington High Street had nearly driven me to distraction thanks to the dawdling tourists and the blithering idiots with their wheelie suitcases. Unfortunately, the second impression, that of the beer selection was a little more disappointing with just the choice of Taylor Walkers own 1730 ale alongside the ubiquitous London Pride and Doom Bar. That said, we were served by a very polite and attentive Irish barman and the beer wasn’t too bad.

1730. Ask for it by number.

Perching on the high stools by a high table with a good view of the entrance and the electric real fire we established by the power of text that we probably weren’t going to see the ladies in this particular watering hole for quite a while…..George for example was only just entering the shower..….so without wanting to prolong our sipping of the 1730 into another pint, I got the Cask Marque scan, thanks to another extremely polite barman, and we left to begin the long hike around the High Commissions.

The first two are just around the corner in Kensington Court and although both flags were disappointingly tightly wrapped around the flagpoles, we could still make out the office shared by both St Kitts & Nevis and St Vincent & the Grenadines (try writing that out longhand on 1,000 envelopes a day). Sam wasn’t too embarrassed to agree to my request to record BGC’s presence for posterity and other than correctly identifying the nearby embassies of Belarus and Mongolia and literally wondering about the sanity of the chap in yellow who was casually making light repairs on his window frames several storeys up in the air, we were back on our way within minutes.

A similar story was carried out in Palace Gate, just a couple of roads down. Here the Zambian High Commission stands proudly in its own majestic detached building (again imaginatively titled Zambia House) surrounded by luxury cars. In this street alone there was a Maserati and a Lamborghini and just as we left, a Ferrari was driven by…..by a man with a little willy. Little Willies aside, the visit was once more snapped for the record books and we were off on our way again.

Outside Zambia House.

For the third time in a row, we ducked down another parallel street, this time by the name of Hyde Park Gate and found ourselves face to face with the fourth High Commission in what felt like, as many minutes. Fiji’s flag was hanging proudly outside giving Sam an excellent opportunity to record the colours on one hand, whilst photographing yours truly with the other.

Fiji

For the moment we could then forget all about flags and High Commissions as we had the longest walk of the tour as we carried on down Kensington Road until we bumped into the Albert Hall. This striking building looked wonderful on such a sunny day and couple with the superb view of the Albert Memorial over the road in Kensington Gardens made it quite a highlight of the day. Even Sam was impressed.

Look at his little face.

The route allowed us to circumnavigate the Albert Hall and wend our way down Kensington Gore until we reached Exhibition Road and the final High Commission for this stage of the tour. Unfortunately though there was no flag as the Jamaican High Commission had obviously decided to give it a quick wash in the sunny weather…….or something. It didn’t prevent us snapping the brass plaque though and before you could say “blue plaque for Sir Malcolm Sargent” we were back on our way. (Talking about blue plaques, I’m now kicking myself we missed one for Winston Churchill which was just a few doors down from the Fijian High Commission and Sam will be double kicking himself that there a plaque for both Isambard Kingdom and Sir Marc Isambard Brunel also in the area.

Blank flag outside Jamaica

There’s not a great deal to say about the next stage of the tour other than the view of the Albert Hall from Prince Consort Road is probably better than the one from the front of the building and you also get to see the impressive Royal College of Music complete with plunking piano music coming from the open windows.

A much better view of the Albert Hall.

After this monumental number of High Commissions it was definitely time for a drink and lucky The Queen’s Arms came to our rescue. If you weren’t looking for it you could easily miss this turquoise coloured pub, parked up in a little mews appropriately named Queen’s Gate Mews. The signs for Sam and me were good, especially the sign that announced there were 8 Real Ales and many craft beers to be enjoyed.

The Queen's Arms in 3 photos.

The other good sign was that the pub was comfortably busy with a smattering of lunchtime diners but none of them causing any problems getting to the bar to be served with a pint of Red Sails Cherry Porter from No 18 Yard Brewhouse, which is Shepherd Neame’s “craft” experimental brewery. It was a very nice beer but probably a bad choice on such a hot day and Sam with his pint of Sierra Nevada had made a much better choice.

Red Sails in the sunset on the East Coast

I think it was about this time that we got a notification from the ladies that, shock horror and much to our surprise, they were actually finally on their way. This gave us plenty of time to check out the pub in more detail and see what a fine place it was. It’s an M&B house but I’m not sure if this branch of their business allow the landlords a little more freedom in terms of beer range or whether they’ve just realised that there’s a huge market for places that do a little more than Carlsberg, Pride & Doombar.
There’s was certainly much more than Carlsberg, Pride & Doombar as our second pints of East Coast Pale from Knops Beer Company could testify to. Still no signs of the girls……fancy a tinnie of Beavertown? Smog Rocket? Yes, don’t mind if I do.

Is that a Heinkel on the lable?

Eventually like a bejewelled and sandaled camel train they eventually turned up and came trudging in. It was all very strange seeing them in civvies whereas I was pretty much in the same clothes as I wear for work. This also applies to Sam who was a sight in dashing hi-vis.

The high bar stools by the windows that had served us so well for the past hour or two were immediately dismissed and we were summoned outside to complete our beers. Not that that was much of a hardship in the delightful weather. One tinnie of Beavertown turned into a tinnie of Rooster’s Fort Smith and we literally had to drag ourselves off to continue with the tour.

Fort Worth - Outside.

The route took us back down Queen’s Gate where George was quick as a flash to identify the Thai flag hanging outside its embassy but unfortunately everyone seemed to miss the Bangladeshi one hanging next door, which was the point of the visit. It was then a smart left turn into Elvaston Place and a walk up to the Mauritius High Commission whose horizontally stripped flag seemed very appropriate on the day where everyone who had a flag pole seemed to have hung out the Rainbow flag…..apart from Jamaica of course.

That's Thailand at the end.

Sam gets into the Rainbow Flag spirit. Unfortunately that's Mauritius in the background.

Finally, the route led us up Gloucester Road, and the row of rather scruffy shops and coffee bars seemed a world away from the smart Kensington town houses but it did lead us to the Gloucester Arms and it was back to the world of Taylor Walker beer ranges and standard menus.

Gloucester Arms

Not wanting to try another pint of 1730 Sam and I had pints of Brewdog’s Punk IPA whilst the girls were still on flavoured ciders or Nicole’s case, pints of Otter Amber with a Punk IPA pint chaser.
It was here that the colouring sheets were produced to howls of delight (they sound the same as ones of derision) and the competition was afoot even though I had forgotten to bring a prize.

The gloves are off....

Perhaps the shape of the flags this week caused some confusion but immediately everyone seemed to colour Bangladesh’s flag as if it was Japan’s and Jamaica’s as if it was Scotland. That’ll teach them not to fly it on a weekend! There was also an inexplicable rush on the colour purple with almost fights breaking out over the few purple crayons.

Waiting for the colouring to finish.

I mean, if you had to describe how to “work” a crayon it doesn’t get much easier does it? You look at the end of the crayon and that’s what colour you’re going to get……unless you’re this load of special cases as I was met with hundreds of cries of “I needed red!” or “this was supposed to be blue!”

I have about 50 such photos

The flurry of hurried scribbling had piqued the interest of the barmaid who tentatively asked what we were all upto which gave me another opportunity to perform my “do you know the difference between an Embassy and a High Commission” line and Sam opportunity to steal my camera and take multiple random shot much to his, and only his, amusement. It also gave Nicole the opportunity to pull out the answer sheet from my bag and cheat on the colours! Disgraceful behaviour.

Builders Arms

After loading up with food (quite a decent sausage and mash to be honest) we were now on the homeward stretch with a meander up Victoria Grove, joining onto St Albans Grove and The Builders Arms, our second M&B pub of the day and one that in many respects was almost a carbon copy of the Queens Arms. There was the same varied beer range on for example (Sam and I having another Beavertown, Neck Oil this time) and the same young and hip crowd which was just beginning to gather as we left the Queens Arms.

Look how young and hip they all are.

We found a table outside, luckily not in the sunshine and received a phone call from Phil (remember him? Always pissed? Bit like a ticking timebomb?) who strangely was also in the area, apparently looking at houses with a very rich friend of his.

That phone is about to ring in a moment.

We arranged to meet up in the final pub of the day, The Greyhound, which after a slight lost-detour we found located just yards from the entrance to World Foods where we’d started the day. This third Taylor Walker of the day was almost completely deserted and we had the choice of seats but not so the choice of beers as Sam and I were forced back to the Brewdog Punk IPA in lieu of anything else.
There was just enough time for a couple of woeful attempts on the quiz machine before Phil arrived and again it was that slightly weird feeling of seeing Phil fully sober whilst we, well certainly I, was starting to get just a little weary.

The Greyhound.

Now before I forget I need to complete the blog with the rundown of this week’s winners in the colouring competition. Emma was as neat as ever but couldn’t hold on to her crown due to some very psychedelic colours in use. Nicole, Sue and Gemma's were just too scruffy and Sam at least held onto Rob’s title of “most abusive” entry.

Japan & Scotland?

Scruffy?

Abusive?

Purple?

Gemma - Too scruffy.

The runaway winner was George for both neatness and accuracy of the colours and she fully deserved my offer of a bottle of beer from the next door Whole Foods, which she amazingly declined……I will have to make this up on the next tour.

We have a winner!

The final act was Sam and I scrambling our way to High Street Kensington tube station where Sam was not as impressed and I think he should have been by the way I knew just where to stand in order to be opposite the exit when we arrived back at Paddington. Mind you, we were all very impressed at Phil’s “Crockett” impression dressed in my jacket which I’d left behind in The Greyhound.

Book 'em Danno......possibly

Look after that iPod in the pocket Phil……you might find you’re a closet Barclay James Harvest fan.