By
Rob
For
perhaps the first time in Pubquest's history, we were running ahead
of schedule. We only had three more pubs to tick off before 10pm and,
unbelievably, it was only 3pm. We'd grabbed a bite to eat at the Rising Sun and, feeling energised, were ready to press on.
Of
course, the good times couldn't last. Just as we were basking in our
own organisational brilliance, an email popped up on my phone and
derailed the whole event.
It
transpired that I had stupidly, stupidly forgotten about a meeting
that I needed to attend with my PhD supervisor (for those of you with
proper jobs, this was basically the equivalent of an appraisal with
your boss). There was no way I could skip this one.
We
quickly worked out a plan. Andy would go visit his grandmother, who
lived nearby. While he was accruing 'good grandson' points, I'd power
through the meeting and then we'd meet back at the next pub: the
White Rose.
The
whole thing should take about an hour, tops.
Frantically
chewing gum in the hope of disguising my boozy breath, I said
farewell and we went our separate ways.
Naturally,
everything took longer than anticipated. Instead of taking me to the
Jessop West building at the university, the taxi driver tried to drop
me off at the Jessop Wing of the hospital. I finally managed to
convince him that this was not the correct destination and,
after receiving assurance that I neither wanted nor needed to be in
hospital, he eventually agreed to drive me to the proper place.
Once
there, it quickly transpired that the brief catch-up session was
actually a comprehensive performance review. My maddeningly efficient
supervisor was incredibly thorough and wanted to engage in a
wide-ranging discussion about my work, wholly ignorant of the fact
that we were eating into prime Pubquest hours.
Meanwhile,
Andy's quick cup of tea with his grandmother wasn't going to plan
either, as he'd been dragged off to the supermarket and put to work
carrying the shopping bags.
Ninety
minutes in, restlessly tapping my feet on the floor, I started to
consider ways to bring the meeting to a close. Say I had another
appointment? Fake illness? Soil myself? Tell the truth and explain
that I had three pubs to visit before 10pm?
Across
town, Andy was weighing up similar options. Stick his grandmother in
the trolley and do a mad Supermarket Sweep dash through the aisles?
Throw the shopping bags on the floor and storm out? Pretend he'd
found a suspicious package and escape in the ensuing evacuation?
Finally,
over two hours later, we were both released back into the wild. The
White Rose was further away than we'd realised and, by the time we
both arrived and bought our drinks, it was just after 6pm.
The
pub wasn't anything to write about (says the bloke doing precisely
that). Yet another budget eatery, much like The Sherwood, it offered the usual grub in the usual surroundings.
That being said, there was a pool table and the place was perfectly
clean, modern and airy. It wasn't unpleasant; it simply lacked
character.
The
beer choice wasn't great either, presenting us with the same
frustrating situation we'd faced in a lot of chain eateries: real ale
taps off duty and only standard fare on offer. Thankfully, in this
case, one of the available lagers was Hop House 13, which we'd
managed to save until now. We were both big fans of the pint, with
its sweet taste and refreshing crispness.
Having
traveled all the way to this pub at not inconsiderable expense,
I wanted to clap eyes on the polling station before we left. We
scoured the rooms but couldn't see any ballot boxes, volunteers or
any of the other telltale signs. We looked behind the bar, in the
toilets, under the pool table.
Nothing.
Draining
the last of the Hop House, we got up from our seats and headed
outside. While waiting for yet another taxi, we went to sit down on a
bench.
It
was then that we saw it.
Around
the side of the pub, in their car park, stood the little polling
station.
Pub: The White Rose (17 Handsworth Road, S9 4AA)
Rating:
5.5/10
Pint: Hop House 13 Lager
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