“contenting myself with observing that I shall not abandon the facts until there shall have been a considerable spontaneous combustion of the testimony” Krook , Rag and Bone Man in Bleakhouse , Charles Dickens

My apologies for the delay in continuing the trip write up. Life got in the way upon my return to NZ. Reality hit like a sack of cement. I now find myself coming up for air and so we continue.

After a much-needed solid night’s sleep we gathered ourselves together and caught the bus to Turnpike Lane. There we breakfasted on very good Full Englishes from the Mediterranean café at the bus station. Today I was to take mum for a walk-through memory lane.
Back in 1973 mum set off across the globe on her OE and ended up washing up on the doorstep of her elder sister’s flat in Barrowgate Road Chiswick. She had neglected to tell my aunty Carol that she had left NZ let alone that she was coming to stay. Mum thought this was a great lark, Carol was apparently less impressed to be incumbered by her little sister. Anyway, today we were to hunt out this grand old Victorian house which in 1973 had been divided into flats inhabited by antipodean baby boomers getting their fix of the old world. Now it has been reunified into a rather grand house like it would have been originally.

We navigated the tube system and were soon heading out to West London. We walked through the streets of Chiswick. Mum immediately started recognising the main shopping centre and the parks and municipal buildings. We navigated our way to Barrowgate Road and started trying to find the correct number. After several laps we concluded that we were in the wrong stretch and the house we were after was on the section of road that extended from the other side of the intersection. Soon we were stood outside the house that was home to mum for a year and a ½ or so a lifetime ago.
As we stood there, she reminisced about how the rag and bone man used to call with his horse and trap to collect waste cloth and metal.  Now if you search rag and bone man google will be convinced you are interested in the English neo-blues singer. However, the term actually referred to a trade where waste goods were collected and recycled and reused. Krook in Dickens’ Bleakhouse was a rag and bone man.  Kind of amazing that mum’s experience links her back to the Victorian London that the house we were stood in front of was built.
We struck out towards the Thames passing under the Ellesmere Road, past Hogarth’s House and then under the Hogarth Roundabout. We attempted to gain entry to The George and Devonshire as I was ready for a pint. However, the door was bolted. We wandered down to the Thame path and down past Fullers. We would of popped in the Mawsons but of course it has been resigned to the knackers.
We wandered down the path in blazing sun and I had to strip layers ended up in a t-shirt. Even mum succumbed to the English sun and ended up carrying her jacket. We wandered down to The Dove hoping for a pint there, however despite the internet saying they were open when we got there the pub was full of tradesmen, the lane full of pallets of plant of some sort and once we got to a vantage point to see, the river side of the pub was encased in scaffolding.
We continued along the river. A man loudly ranted, swore and argued with himself in a park. Everyone gave him a wide berth however I think the only person he had issue with was himself. We made it down to The Blue Anchor, notable to me for being one of the pubs to feature in New Tricks. We settled down here to a couple of pints and both agreed that this pub had a really nice vibe. Sun lit, good beer and a warm vibe of friendly chatter. I consulted a couple of friends via WhatsApp as to where we should go from here. We decided on a uber to The Churchill Arms Kensington. We enjoyed a pint and a ½ of pride near the fire surrounded by the shrine of Winston and chatted to a couple of London blokes and a couple who were over from New York for the day (!!) and were taking in a pub before flying home. We then wandered down the street towards a tube station and stumbled across The Blue Stoops, the first pub of the reborn Alsopp and Sons brewery. I had their beers on my wish list so we popped in and I had a ½ of Pale Ale and a ½ of India Pale Ale. Both were good, particularly the IPA which has resisted American hops despite what the market now expects from a beer named that.
From there we took an Uber to The White Horse at Parsons Green. In it’s day The White Horse was one of the most important beer institutions in the world. Publican Mark Dorber was internationally renowned for the way he kept beer. The pub was host to a conference which went on to spark the American obsession and then hijacking (or perhaps development) of India Pale Ale. Mark left for Suffolk years ago and I knew it was no longer what it once was but I was still interested to visit. We arrived and I ordered a pint of Landlord. The bar woman said she would have to change the “keg” and would bring it over. When it arrived it was as murky as the latest hype juice, she apologised and said she had kicked the “keg” as she changed it and would give me something else if I wanted. I said no, I should of said yes, struggled through a mouthful , then took it back to the bar and traded it for a perfectly fine but characteristically funky pint of Harvey’s Sussex Best.
Then it was down to the tube and then a bus over to Brentford where we were to meet the ‘southern’ Hasletts for a meal. We were still too early for the meal so we ensconced ourselves at The Beehive in Brentford. A Fullers pub and a proper boozer. Carpets , locals indulging in banter and debate , beers in good nick. After a couple of pints it was time to go up to the restaurant, and as mum spent a penny I overheard a table talking about universal suffrage and of course mentioning NZ. So I interjected to make the point that NZ only gave women the vote as we thought they would vote for prohibition. I thought the location of this interaction held some humour. The table was suitably amused, having a Kiwi accent explode from no where at the mention of NZ.
We wandered up to the Italian restaurant and had a good meal with the family before retracing bus and tube rides back to North London and bed.