This one has certainly become my most visited pub: The Rugby Tavern. Tucked away in Rugby Street off Lamb’s Conduit Street in the Bloomsbury/Holborn area, it is rather surprising that this pub features an outside sitting area on a sort of pedestrian-only mini-plaza that you would not necessarily expect here. I suppose no tourist would ever come this way, so this decent pub is left to arty locals and nearby office folk. Which is good.
Rugby Tavern, by Ewan-M via flickr
Sure, there are more spectacular pubs in the area, for example the famous Lamb two blocks further up, but most other pubs are actually worse, and the Rugby Tavern tends to be less crowded. The food is ok: Solid standard, though no overexciting challenge for the tastebuds. Master Brew and Spitfire are the standard ales, and lager friends may welcome the Kirin tap.
Unfortunately, the fireplace is not in use anymore, however, this pub is as pub-ish as pubs can get: Carpet, flowers on the outside facade, comfy leather sofas in one corner, and an upstairs function room. A nice local, perhaps not worth coming from afar, but enjoyable and good enough for multiple return visits.
Whoa, what a cracker! One flat white and I was literally jumping across Hungerford Bridge!
Monmouth Coffee Company is by far my favourite local roaster. On my way back home, I passed their café in Monmouth Street, Covent Garden, where it all began in 1978. The roasting is now done in railway arches in Bermondsey, but the original Covent Garden location still exists as a very small café. You will definitely have to queue to sit down, and it is not unusual to queue for take-away likewise, but therefore you get a simply fantastic coffee with a nice pattern of milk foam on top, which you can then enhance/destroy with raw sugar from a bowl, if you so wish.
The roast of the day was advertised as El Guabo from Peru, medium-bodied with medium acidity. Okay, I certainly had coffees that were heavier on the tongue, but this one was strong…ultra-strong! “Sweet lemon and milk chocolate”, according to the description, which was probably not too far off, was it not for the sheer strength that let the coffee linger on the tastebuds for quite a long while – longer than half an hour. If I was to compare this coffee with single malts, this would be an Islay Whisky: delicious, complex, aggressive and long-lasting, but definitely nothing for beginners. Whew!
Note to self: Play it safe next time and order a latte, not a flat white.
The British Music Experience (BME) at The O2 is supposed to be an interactive museum, so expect lots of flashy displays and things to touch. At £15, the entrance fee is rather hefty and on par with other major London attractions. Therefore, the exhibition better be good!
British Music Experience
Of course I didn’t pay the full amount, neither did I pay the concession rate of £12, which is still steep. No, this week, the BME was giving out tickets at £1, most likely as a marketing activity to spread the word. Later I learned that they also wanted to get some information from us visitors, and I duly filled in my survey. I am not usually filling in marketing surveys, but the overall voice of the BME was quite nice: well-worded statements, not too cool-ish, not too academic, really make you feel welcome here, but you should come with an interest in British post-45 pop music. Because that’s what this is all about.
A night of Chekov in Hammersmith. I like the Lyric Hammersmith, it is a modern theatre with an old-ish feel. With 550 seats, it is already quite big, yet not as big as the prime Westend venues, you are never too far from the stage, ensuring good viewing positions even in the back rows. And the history of the theatre is rather special: a late-19th-century opera house at this location was dismantled and rebuilt inside of a 70s concrete shopping complex. That’s where the old-ish feel comes from: the features are original, and the rebuilding meant that the theatre could be equipped with modern features. Quite an extraordinary development, I think.
Three Sisters Ticket
Sean Holmes and Filter were behind tonight’s production of Three Sisters about the Prozorov familiy attempting to improve their lives and leave current frustrations behind. Rather expectedly, given the Lyric’s reputation as a venue for contemporary productions, the production was a modern take on Chekov’s original, which is always a risk. In this case, the risk paid off, though not without casualties.
It is not easy to decide what Callaghans is. It is part of a hotel, but not a hotel bar. It is a pub with an Irish theme, but too polished for an Irish pub. They often serve German food, but this is because of the hotel’s German chef, who is also serving the Junction Bar & Restaurant in the same building. They have several screens, but it is not quite a sports bar. They play music, perhaps a little too loud, yet this is most definitely neither a club nor a night bar. The look is more traditional than trendy, but they don’t have any real ales.
Maybe it tries too hard to be a bit of everything. The consequence is an awkward mix of elements that do not form a coherent whole. The good thing about this is that Callaghans is usually not overcrowded, so when the surrounding pubs are too full, this is a spillover location, usually with ample space to get a seat a table. If you fancy a pint away from the crowds but still in the centre of Bloomsbury, then Callaghans might be an alternative. But while the pub food is actually not too bad, I am afraid Callaghans will always remain second-, no, rather third-choice for me.
What a shitty exhibition! No, this is not a value statement, well, not quite anyways, but Chris Ofili used elephant dung in his work. Yes, animal excrement. And I did not really expect to see so much of it.
Tate Logo, by cyberdees via flickr.com
But I did not just visit Tate Britain for the Chris Ofili exhibition. Well, actually I did, but I was out comparably quickly, leaving just enough time to seize one of the very last chances to speed through Turner and the Masters. You can see I am no art critic, instead I seem to use my Tate Membership to turn Tate Britain and Modern into some kind of fast food joint for art consumption. But I do take in what I see, and I take position. And I would take my time if the art really appealed to me.
So what did I make out of the two exhibitions? First Chris Ofili: the moment I entered, I thought “Hey, some Aboriginal-inspired art!”, referring to the Australian Aborigines. Yet there was no single mention anywhere of Australia or of Indigenous Australians and their rich culture. So Zimbabweans seem to be working with dots as well, interesting.
February 10, 2010 
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London with a yellow rucksack.
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