Guys, do you know that feeling when you get up on a morning and just know that you are going to press your luck too far and are almost guaranteed to pay for your folly.
Today was a case in point ( for both Julia and yours truly I might say).
It all started at 4pm yesterday when we met up with friends Vicki and Steve who are over here from Christchurch for a break.
The sun was in the sky, there wasn't a cloud in sight, the temperature was running in the mid twenties. This perfect combination demanded a pub crawl.
First stop Ye Olde Mitre, followed by Ye Old Watling, then into our favourite bar (which just happens to be a fully blown Frog watering hole) Le Beaujolais , and then topping things off at Gordon's Wine Bar.
At this juncture we escorted our friends to the nearest tube station and we made our way home, with a quick last drink at The Gallery, a pub conveniently located directly outside the Pimlico tube station.
Straight to bed and miracle of miracles we both woke this morning hang over free and feeling on top of the word.
OK, that's the preamble done and dusted.
Now onto our fatal mistake.
After a very lazy morning Julia says, I'm hungry , why don't we go out for lunch?
No arguments from me. Having woken with all faculties intact I felt bullet proof.
A couple of weeks ago I had been trawling the net for a suitable pub for a day such as this, so off we went to Ye Olde Red Cow, an establishment located directly over the road from the Smithfield Markets.
Of course it goes without saying that on the tube having discussed our full-on pub crawl the previous evening we made the obligatory commitments to each other to have an alcohol free day etc.
When we walked through the door of the pub (which specialises in fantastic meat dishes in combination with boutique beers) I turned to Julia and said, look we are kidding ourselves if we think we can have a gourmet pub lunch here and get away with only sucking down ginger beer or whatever.
What about we stay clear of wine and simply have a pint of what will be our first and last beer of the summer.
Agreed.
Up we go to the counter and in a moment of lunacy, the after effects of which will haunt our bodies for the next eight hours, we look up at the list of beers behind the counter and believe it or not, order a couple of pints of a liquid answering to the name of Beaver Town Smog Rocket (I kid you not). The beer was listed as having a 6.5% alcohol count. Mistake, big mistake! A stupid call actually.
We commence to quietly sip this black brew as we waited for our lunch (which incidentally was fantastic) . After we had downed maybe a third of a pint I started feeling a tad strange so I asked Julia how she was feeling.
Julia immediately responded that she had been about to ask me the same thing as she was feeling as if her mind was starting to drift out of her body.
Snap! I was feeling exactly the same, in fact this out of body experience was feeling a little weird.
Any normal sane couple would have at this stage simply quit while they were behind and switch to a less non threatening drink.
But not your intrepid friends.
No, we just pressed ahead and having knocked off our pints, proceeded to order a second.
The trip home on the tube was a bit of laugh.
It was like we were viewing life from way on high.
Word of advise, when next in London if you want to experience a great pub lunch, then The Red Cow has it in spades.
As for their beer, do yourself a favour, stick to more non threatening, non mind bending beverages like wine.
Cheers
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