Saturday, 29 August 2015

Pub 65, Day 25 – The Old Crown Inn

By Rob

19:05 (25 minutes until the deadline)

Stepping out of The Albion and into the fading light of London Road, we looked again at our watches. It was going to be very, very tight. We had to get to The Old Crown Inn, drink a pint, and then reach the Nursery Tavern on Ecclesall Road by 19:30 hours.

You might be wondering why, on this occasion, we were so uncharacteristically concerned with our punctuality something which rarely gave us pause on a normal night. Sure, we were meeting people, but we'd been late before (just think back to The Hallamshire House), so why care?

The answer came in the form of our mutual friend, Ali.

We'd been late one too many times, she said. It was not OK to leave her hanging around pubs, on her own, while we ambled lazily towards her, she said. If we did it again then there would be hell to pay, she said.

There was no doubt in our minds that she meant it.

The problem was, we were playing a high-stakes game. The whole of London Road was in the balance. If we made it, we'd have drank a pint in every pub on London Road a big achievement for anybody.

But if we didn't make it, then Ali would be left sitting in the Nursery Tavern, alone, waiting for us. To make matters worse, the delay would be down to the fact that we'd been drinking in another pub, elsewhere. In that scenario, there was every chance that she might attack and/or kill us.

The rewards were huge, the risks were massive.

We decided to go for it.

19:06 

After agreeing on our course of action, we started moving. Fast.

The buildings whizzed by in a blur as we increased our average walking speed from 3.5mph to a dizzying 4.2.

Breathing hard to maintain the pace, the standard small-talk got a little bit smaller. I didn't even stop to point at Barry's and remind Andy of all the weird and wonderful things that had happened there.

19:07

For the second time that evening, we were stopped dead in our tracks.

I wanted to fall to my knees and scream out in despair. I saw Andy fighting back tears (although he will deny it until his dying day).

We could see The Old Crown Inn up ahead, warm and inviting.

But standing between us and it was The Barrel Inn.

Yet another pub we'd overlooked that had come hurtling towards us from out of the blue. We were devastated. Our carefully laid plans had been shot to smithereens, along with any illusions we'd had about being expert pub-goers.

"What do we do now?" I asked Andy, hoping he wouldn't hear the squeak in my voice.

He turned to look at me with haunted eyes. "I don't know, Rob," he said, sighing. "I just don't know anymore."

Should we try and drink in both pubs and still go for the big London Road prize? If we did that, we would definitely be late, and by a considerable margin. Ali would crucify us.

Fortunately for our well-being, we realised that The Barrel Inn was closed! Not permanently, but just for the evening, which ruled out ticking off London Road.

At that moment, we knew we had to finish what we'd started. Sure, we'd have to come back to The Barrell Inn at some point, but we had a job to do. And that job was just a few yards further up the road.

Without another word, we raced along the pavement.

19:09

We'd lost a little time owing to the difficulties along the way, but we arrived at The Old Crown Inn just 4 minutes after leaving The Albion (only four times longer than Google's estimated 60 seconds although Google Maps doesn't take into account emotional trauma).

There was a reasonable crowd inside, given that it was a midweek evening, and a few people standing at the bar. From what we could tell, there was only one member of staff serving.

Just our luck.

I joined the bustle while Andy went and sat down.

19:11

I was now at the front of the scrum, pressed up against the bar and nestled in between the elbows of two other, presumably thirsty, older gentlemen.

Hoping to get the barman's attention, I went with the tried and tested 'raised eyebrows' routine. When that failed, I employed an old nightclub classic: putting my money in my hand and visibly resting it on the bar.

19:12

The barman was working diligently and serving people as fast as he could, but the guy only had two hands.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity but had, in fact, only been two and a half minutes, he asked me what I wanted.

Shit.

I'd been so caught up in the rush that I was woefully unprepared for what was, in retrospect, an inevitable question. My eyes flicked to the drinks on offer: no real ales, no obscure stouts, no fancy foreign pilsners.

Knowing Andy had a list of all the beers we'd consumed stored away on his phone, I looked around for him, but he was nowhere in sight. I dared not leave the bar to find him, for fear of losing my privileged position at the front of the queue.

Trusting in fate, I asked for two pints of Cobra: not the most common lager in the city, but certainly one I'd seen along our journey. I had no idea if we'd drank it before, but I did know that if we had to go back to the bar and re-order our drinks, we'd never beat the clock.

Searching for Andy, I found him in a comfortable looking side room. The pub was surprisingly large it certainly didn't look as big from the outside. The room we were in was cosy, carpeted, and very traditional. The back room, which was much larger, was mostly wooden and looked as if it doubled up as a dancefloor. It was easy to imagine the place putting on a great karaoke come the weekend.

19:14

Andy's thumb moved like lighting as he flicked his way down the list. Eventually, his rapidly shifting digit came to a stop and he glanced up with a smile.

"It's fine," he announced. "We've not had it".

Weak with relief, I began to drink the Cobra. A relatively standard lager, and one found more often in Indian restaurants than in pubs, the Cobra was actually a big help, as lager goes down quicker than ale.

I set to work on emptying the glass.

19:16

About halfway through our drinks, I watched Andy reach across to a nearby table and pick up a beer mat. With his one free hand, he began to peel the corner.

"What are you doing?" I hissed, already knowing where this was going.

"This is pub number 65," he replied, hard at work on both his drink and his beer mat. "We have to leave them something."

Like a man possessed, I lifted my glass and forced myself to drain the second half of the pint in one almighty gulp.

Fighting back the urge to burp quite loudly, I snatched the beer mat from Andy and left him to focus on finishing his drink.

19:17

As many of you will know, some beer mats peel fantastically. With these, you get your nail under one corner and then, in one sweet and smooth motion, the paper comes away. You're left with a pristine, white square ready to be drawn upon.

Some beer mats, however, do not peel well. The paper rips with every pull, leaving behind a nasty, patchy mess. You find yourself having to gouge the remaining bits of advertising from the layer beneath with your finger nails.

This beer mat fell into the latter camp.

19:18

With the beer mat finally peeled, I picked up the pen that Andy had thankfully brought with him. With no time to get creative, I replicated our (my) efforts at The Porter Cottage, investing just enough time to add the necessary elements.

19:19

Flinging the makeshift certificate to the table, we took our glasses back to the bar (even in a mad dash, there's always time for manners) and left the pub.

We knew the route. We also knew that it was supposed to take us 14 minutes to get there, and we only had 11. Somehow, we had to make up 3 minutes.

There was only one thing for it: we would have to walk a little bit faster than normal.

19:23

We were walking a bit faster than normal.

19:28

Turns out that we're actually quite fast walkers. We got to the Nursery Tavern with 2 minutes to spare...

Pub: The Old Crown Inn (137 London Road, S2 4LE)
Rating: 5.5/10
Pint: Cobra
Brewery: Cobra Beer (based in Bangalore, India)

NEXT UP: Ali arrives, at the Nursery Tavern...

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