Drinking our way along the Thames
Our posse arrives at The Mayflower
Ian White's pub crawls that he organises for the club are an institution, usually held in the late autumn—and he is planning one for November—but this year he gave us a bonus crawl along the Thames Path, starting in Greenwich and ending up by Tower Bridge. The object is to introduce us to handsome and historic taverns and real ales that might be new to us. (Ian is a stalwart of the Campaign for Real Ale and the Campaign for Real Cider.) We began at the Spanish Galleon in central Greenwich, close to the Cutty Sark. I myself have lived in Greenwich for 29 years and I confess I had never set foot in this hostelry, owned by Shepherd Neame ("Britain's Oldest Brewery"). There were six of us at this stage, as we supped up and headed off on the first leg of our voyage.
The Thames Path route that we followed is mostly residential these days, either converted warehouses or Barratt Home new-builds, but it used to be all about shipping and ship-building. Shortly after leaving the Spanish Galleon we encountered a strange monument to Peter the Great of Russia, who came here in 1698 to learn about ship-building, featuring statues by Russian sculptor Mihail Chemiakin of Peter himself, an enormous throne and a court dwarf. Sadly in April thieves tried to steal the dwarf for its metal value using an angle grinder, which presumably explains why that part of the monument was covered by a wooden box when we visited. Peter himself has a strangely small head and beefy forearms. The throne was on a scale such that those of us who sat on it (except Floyd and perhaps Ian) couldn't reach the ground with their feet.
At the Peter the Great monument
Our next port of call was the Dog and Bell in Deptford. It's a bit off the beaten track but highly regarded, and I would say that it featured the most interesting selection of beers of all the places we visited that day, including a grapefruity pale ale, a mouth-puckering sour beer and a stout that tasted of chocolate biscuits and dry malt with a hint of Terry's Chocolate Orange.
Peter the Great stayed in Sayes Court while in England, a manor house belonging to John Evelyn (where he and his entourage completely trashed the place by all accounts, requiring the Treasury to stump up the equivalent of £42,000 for the damage). We passed through Sayes Court Park on its site, where we encountered a mulberry tree: there is a story it was given by Evelyn by Peter, though in fact there were mulberries here before that.
We passed over the lock into South Dock marina, part of what's left of the Convoys Wharf commercial and ship-building area and on for an extended wander that took in the Surrey Docks city farm: this was more or less closed to visitors at this time, so we had to satisfy ourselves with the bronze animals by the entrance.
The heavens began to open as we scurried to our next pub, the Blacksmith's Arms, adjoining Nelson Dock, which was in use by shipwrights as late as 1958. The pub was once visited, on a whim, by the Queen Mother. The wood-panelled interior is decorated with shipping memorabilia.
Ian stopped our convoy now and then to give us nuggets about the area around us. The next leg took us through old warehouses now converted into housing, and he showed us a sheaf of black and white photos he took of the area, looking much more run down, before it was developed. The next pub, tucked in between these developments, was the Mayflower, a small but popular watering hole that takes its name from the Pilgrim Father's ship, which departed for America from a nearby mooring in 1620. Originally called the Spread Eagle, the pub dates back to the 16th century. The place is worth a visit for the interior, though when we arrived it was too full for us, so we loitered outside, chatting to other drinkers, dazzled by our sartorial magnificence.
Our penultimate stop was the Angel, a Victorian pub on the water's edge with views up and down the river. We spent part of our time outside in the public yard area listening to a local madman tell us about the bronze statues of Dr Alfred Salter and his wife Ada, who both worked to improve the living conditions of working people in Bermondsey (Alfred became MP for Bermondsey and Ada became the the first woman councillor, and ultimately mayor). The statues also include their daughter Joyce, who died of scarlet fever in 1920 and their cat, who sits on the wall.
Our final pub was the Anchor Tap. It was also the last pub in our previous pub crawl in 2021, when we were dogged both by Covid rules about how many people could sit together inside, and by the torrential rain which made it really quite desirable to sit inside. This time the weather was fine, although the place was quiet. Various drinkers had come and gone from our caravan during the day, and we were now down to a half dozen again (although Catherine Crawley joined us just as I was leaving).
Our final destination, the Anchor Tap near Tower Bridge
Many thanks to Ian for organising this, and to the various NSC types who came and went—I reckon about 15 in total, though special mention must go to the Mitchells and to Floyd, the only people (aside from myself, I suppose) who made it to all the pubs on the route.
You can see many more photos from the event in this album on Flickr.
Our caravan pauses for a photo op outside the Angel