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 6 - From Botswana to Tanzania

For those who are reading this blog with the fervour of a kneeling, rocking student in a Madrasa, you’ll remember that the last episode began with Sam and I having to struggle our way through the tumultuous hoards milling around Oxford Street. And this week’s episode began no differently, with me having to struggle my handsome way through the tumultuous hoards on Oxford Street. And for those most diligent of BGC blog students, who like to know the area where we were touring, we’ve moved steadily east from Bloomsbury to Marylebone.

This meant that my tube journey on this particular night was carried out on the Jubilee line, a line that I don’t get to go on all that often. So this could have meant a nice, interesting start but instead meant a fight to get on and off a heavily crowded train and eventually emerge into the watery sunlight at Bond Street.

Get out of my way! I'm the BGC don't you know?

On the bright side, at least the walk to the first pub wasn’t far at all, once I’d dodged between the taxis and buses crawling up Oxford Street, and I just had to turn up into James Street and take the quick 5 minute stroll up to the Lamb and Flag.

Note the sign.....

The pub, which again is from the Taylor Walker organisation, occupies a corner by Barret Street and this is a little pedestrianised area in which lots of diners and drinkers were blocking my ability to actually get into the pub. When I finally did so, the inside of the pub was actually rather empty with only a smattering of people on the few tables in the place. The beer range was rather disappointing with nothing too interesting available to take my attention, so I went for the very interesting looking Apple and Pears, a cider from the Millwhites Cider press.

Awful name for a cider. Great taste though.

The very friendly and flirty barman asked me if I wanted a taster first, which I was only too happy to take advantage of. I think from his point of view he just wanted to make sure I’d be prepared for the sour taste of real cider compared to the sickly sweetness of today’s popular bottled ciders, but from my point of view it meant that I got a bit extra for my money as the pint cost me a fiver!
I retired outside and staked my claim on a spare spot of pavement by a little pillar with a dangerously sloping surface onto which I gingerly place my pint.

Inside the Lamb and Flag.

Judging by the people going past this was a real mixing pot of people and places with a mix of hundreds of office workers returning home (or to the pub) and shopping bag laden tourists dithering hither and thither. Also from my view point I could see the scruffy loading bay of Selfridges which is a lot less impressive than the front entrance. What was also less impressive was the low-slung white Lamborghini which roared into view at a lightning 5 mph and promptly parked on the double yellow lines outside the loading bay. I guess the Saudi driver was just popping in for some vital supplies.
It was about this point that our first tourist of the night appeared in the shape of Buddy Rob who unfortunately was only aboard for a quickie (or two) as he had to return to work. This meant that his familiar bottle of Bud was changed tonight for a pint of Foster’s shandy, which he also gently placed on the precipitous pillar.

Selfridge's back door.

Rob was soon followed by Gemma who has just started another new job in Old Street and had also endured a sweltering tube experience which meant an over-exaggerated flapping of her neck line whilst she also delicately balanced her pint of ice-cold Crabbie’s Ginger Beer on top the makeshift table cum pillar.

It wasn’t long until the other two confirmatory attendees appeared in the delectable shapes of Emma and Nicole, which also meant that the whole of the ladies’ household was in attendance.
The first job of the night was to present the not-present George with her prize for winning the session we did around High Street Kensington a couple of weeks ago. If you haven’t the memory of an elephant then you won’t remember that when we ended this tour just outside the doors of Whole Foods and my idea then was to grab a bottle of beer from any old Commonwealth country and make this the prize. And this would have been a damn good plan until George dropped the bombshell that she doesn’t really like beer.

And the prize for drunkest lush goes to......

The solution was a bottle of South African Redd’s, which according to the label is a Crisp Alcoholic Blend. I had a bottle, for research purposes only of course, and can confirm that it tastes like apple flavoured beer……and isn’t totally unpleasant. Anyway with George being “unavailable” and also not being on the live video link, Gemma was very happy to accept the prize on her behalf.

It was time for a quick foray to the toilets and it was then that I discovered the Cask Marque certificate pinned to a wall on the stairs down to the loos. Unfortunately by this point I’d already used the Cask Finder app to report that the certificate wasn’t available so I hope the flirty barman doesn’t get into trouble.

Excellent Loos.....they even have a certificate.

Drinks finished and with notification from Mr Cheese that he was running ever more late, we moved on through the crowded mess of tables of the cafes desperately trying to recreate a continental flavour and made the struggle back down to Oxford Street where luckily we only had to dodge up the next left turning into Stratford Place and the first two High Commissions on the night.

It's a name that's been used before, but at least Tanzania has named their High commission

I’m not sure how close Botswana and Tanzania are politically, I mean they’re not exactly near to each other geographically, but they are very close High Commissionally as they share two buildings next to each other on Stratford Place. Currently Botswana is having the best of the deal as the Tanzania building was covered in scaffolding spreading out from what I presume is more Cross Rail work happening on Oxford Street. But you can at least still get your visas.

Nice bag.

Rob did the photo duties and before you could say “carrier bag full of jacket” we forged onwards. Onwards in this case meant back down to Oxford Street again and another immediate left turn into Marylebone Lane and along this curving back street to Wigmore Street where we could see the Cock & Lion directly ahead.

Outside and inside the Cock and Lion

The building is a most attractive one with a decorative balcony on the top floor and a sign above the pub which made me think that this was another from the Taylor Walker stable but in fact it turns out to be an independent. There were a few people outside drinking at the couple of tables, but like any of the streets off Oxford Street, it was eerily quiet compared to the raucous hub-bub of the West End.
Inside it was even quieter with an empty bar and a row of empty tables along one wall. I treated Rob to his 2nd pint of shandy, Carling this time, and treated myself to a pint of Yakima Red from Meantime.

The rows of empty tables were too good an opportunity not to start on the colouring competition and with Buddy Rob about to leave and Cheesy Rob about to arrive, this meant that we had a tour of only previous winners….apart from Nicole. She seemed to take this as a sure sign that she would be a dead cert to win tonight’s competition. I told her in no uncertain terms, that whilst this might well be true, she’d still have to complete a colouring sheet as there were to be no free lunches on my watch.

As the ladies were busily colouring away I took a closer look around the pub and saw the second notification of the Simonds Brewery of the night. At the Lamb & Flag I’d noticed the name of this now defunct Reading based brewery on the pub sign and here in the Cock & Lion there was an old advert, framed on the wall advertising various products from the brewery. All very interesting I’m sure you’ll agree………anyway, back to the tour.

Mr Simonds makes his second appearance.

With Mr Cheese confirming that he would be delayed even more, we took the decision to continue the expedition and made our combined ways out of the pub and turn an immediate right up the furthering curve of Marylebone Lane until we reached the junction of Hinde Street and The Coach Makers. I was quite taken about by what was another very striking building and the Hinde Street Methodist Church just to the pub’s right. Whilst Emma and I were admiring these buildings Gemma and Nicole were taken aback from the range of jams and marmalades in the window of Paul Rothe & Son. Each unto his own I guess.

Prising the noses of the two conserve maniacs away from the window, we made our way past the group of young poshos and the suspect Big Issue salesman, who no doubt was doing his best “it’s my last one” pitch, we found ourselves in a very pleasant and very not crowded pub. There was a beer brewed specially (or renamed specially) for the pub on, so we all settled down with pints of Lubricant which I understand is brewed by Sharp’s. But whoever it is brewed by, the Untappd checking in of this beer meant I obtained the “Brewnettes Have More Fun” badge, bearing a uncanny resemblance to the brunettes I was out with tonight. Well, brunette/mousey….it’s all the same yes?

From left to right: Nicole, Gemma, Emma. Mr Cheese is out of the frame.

As I say, The Coach Makers is a smart looking place, with its old church seating, crystal chandeliers, bare brick walls and notices for a gin palace in the upstairs bar. It also has a Speak Easy in the basement, but the doors were locked so who knows what exactly goes on behind them when it is open.

Much to my relief Mr Cheese eventually turned up and I could hand over the reins of the flagging conversation to him and his drugs stories. I’d also spotted the Cask Marque certificate on the wall and whilst I was nowhere near enough to scan it from the position it had been nailed to the wall behind the bar, I did manage to get a photo to prove our visit.

Thoughts were turning to food, sadly not the Coach Maker’s special ploughman’s lunch (at only 19 quid a plate) but to the crips that Mr Cheese had purchased and the range of oysters that Emma admitted she’d never tried.

mmmm...salty snot

Needless to say, this was far too good an opportunity to miss, so Nicole was dutifully dispatched to the bar to purchase a single solitary oyster at the princely sum of £2.50. I will say it was delightfully presented on a plate with lemon, Tabasco and shallot vinegar and after much cajoling and checking to make sure the thing was disconnected from the shell, Emma manfully swallowed it in one. “Salty snot” was the verdict…..which pretty much summed up what the rest of us were predicting.

Swift one for the road.....

A second pint was taken, in the form of Truman’s Swift but it was soon time to leave and make the longest trek of the evening, down the length of Hinde Street, over Harley Street (no doctors were seen) and along the length of Queen Anne Street until we reached the point where this road bends round into Chandos Street.

Nice bag....again.

Here, right on the corner is the location of the Namibian High Commission and with Rob number two taking over the BGC photographing duties from Rob number one, we were soon back on our way up to Weymouth Mews and The Dover Castle, the final pub of the night.

Night draws in by the Dover Castle

What I didn’t realise was that this pub was a Sam Smith’s and as it was tucked away from the touristic throngs it had a very quiet, homely, local pub feel to it. By the time I’d finished taking Rob’s photo next to the very English sportscar outside the pub, the girls were already settling down with a bottle each of Sam’s fruit beers, one strawberry, one cherry and one apricot…….I think they were still thinking about jam.

Car

Fruity

Rob and I had pints of Sam’s organic wheat beer and then it was down to work as the girls finished off their colouring for the evening and made what I have to say are the three neatest entries in the competition so far. There was no way I could split them on the standard of the colouring but luckily tonight’s prize lent itself to a handy way to decide who had won.

Stop bloody grinning girls and get to work!

That's more like it!

I’d managed to pick up from the legendary Thatcham Car Boot sale a job lot of those little desktop flags you sometimes see at the UN or other international conferences. As luck would have it, amongst the 8 or so flags in the bundle, there was a Namibian flag which meant the winner would be whoever’s colouring matched the flag the closest.

Hard to pick a winner....

Much to Nicole’s disgust, but nevertheless indisputably, Gemma’s colouring was the closest match to the real flag and she was declared the winner and our first winner to obtain a second stint on the top of the podium. Nicole will just have to wait a little longer.

For some strange reason though, Gemma didn’t want all the flags so they were dutifully shared around meaning everyone got at least one to display proudly between their staplers and telephones.
And so with a sprint up to Regents Park tub station for me and Rob, another tour draws its eyes to a close.

The stapler and phone are out of the frame.

And boy, we will need some sleep…..the next tour has 7 High Commissions to cover!

Get some sleep oldies!