Here I am still in London one of the premiere cities of the world with not a lot to do; the christening went well yesterday but the pub where they held the reception afterwards left a lot to be desired.
It is called The Drayton Court Hotel and there is an old expression here 'couldn't organise a piss up in a brewery' which I think would be a good way to describe the place. A piss up for anybody wondering is a booze up, a party with nothing to do but drink, which would seem easy in a brewery hence the expression.
For a start off it wasn't cheap; when we arrived at the hotel we were given a glass of Champagne at the door to the 'function' room - provided by my daughter - and then people mingled with each other and talked; quite a nice atmosphere, but it was a dimly lit miserable looking room with hard furniture designed by committee for every pub in London. You see it might have been called an hotel - and I make no apologies for using 'an' there - and it might have been an hotel but now it is a pub with 'function' rooms.
The next thing that was supposed to happen was the serving of the food; well that didn't happen. Some food was put on to one of the tables but not much; they said the rest of the food would be 'right in' but 'right in' didn't happen.
The first lot of food went cold waiting so they took the first load of food back into the kitchen to warm it up; people looked around and one or two started asking questions.
Were we supposed to go up and help ourselves?
In the corner of the table was a load of chips; it was quite easy to see that they hadn't been fried but were oven chips bought frozen and bunged into their oven.
When the rest of the food arrived the first lot was cold but after what seemed like a day and a half the food was eventually there together so we went up and helped ourselves. It wasn't bad but I could see an Indian take-away across the street and was very tempted.
So if any of the forty or so people in the room were planning to get married soon and needed a function room I can't see them trying the Drayton Court - it seems a good pub, by the way, as the Guinness tasted great and the place has a little bit of history.
It is the oldest pub in Ealing, so I am told, and in the nineteen twenties Ho Chi Minh is reported to have worked there as a chef which I have confirmed with Wikipedia.
Talking about old places I was planning to go to the oldest pie and mash shop in London one of the days but now I'm not so sure. It is in the east end where the cockneys come from and is called Manzes Pie and Mash Shop; I went there last time I came but it is only open between about 10.00 am and 2.00 pm. The last time I got there a little late so I only saw a few people; there was a spiv on the next table to me and even though I'm well aware of what a spiv is I think it was the first time I actually saw one in the flesh.
When I first moved to LA I won an award for playing a spiv in a play; a spiv would be the fella who would be able to get anything for you. For example during the war he would be able to get you the little luxuries you missed because of rationing - silk stockings etc. The spiv would also dress very smartly but in a flashy way. There is a character in the St Trinians movies called Flash Harry who is a spiv played splendidly by George Cole. He is due to be played by Russell Grant in a new St Trinians movie and I dread seeing it; I'm sure he'll be very good but the St Trinians movies were of their time.
The spiv sitting near me in Manzes Pie and Mash Shop wore a detachable collar to his shirt and wore a very flashy tie pin and cuff links; his hair was greased back and he ate his pie and mash with great dexterity holding his knife, as the cockneys do, like a pencil. He didn't eat his peas by piling them onto his knife, however, unless I didn't notice, but as he ate I could see that he enjoyed what he was eating. The shop also sells jellied eels - but I don't think I ever want to try them.
By the way I think the bit about the peas on the knife is a wicked rumour spread by the upper classes but the closest they get to meeting the working classes would be when they meet taxi drivers.
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The hotel sounds so very English in that way we all know and love. Once I was at a similar hotel in Eastend, down south when I was woken by hotel security to warn me of a "cat burglar" on the loose. I went back to sleep and 1 hour later another knock. This time it was the Security guard and a timid-looking man. He was the cat burglar and the guard was taking him around to the guest's rooms to apologize.
ReplyDeleteSince he hadn't robbed me I simply smiled and said thank you as he said he was sorry.
quite right too - by the way there is Southend and Eastbourne; I don't think there's an Eastend apart from the east end of London.
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