UK: Winter holidays 2023–2024

Non-comprehensive photo set and semi-random notes ahead!
This is a rather slapdash, non-comprehensive brain-dump page.
As usual, full-sized images are available behind the thumbnails.

Friday the 22nd

Upon arrival at Luton Airport, we paused on our doorstep, with the unusual but not unjustified decision to explore Luton before heading any further.
     This adventure was framed as a mini pub crawl heading south through the centre of town and then back up toward the station. Among the first things we learned is that they are rather proud of the footballing prowess here, which has brought Luton into the Premier League and has brought associated shrines, banners, and scarves to pretty much every venue we entered. Another of our first impressions was cemented too: there is a pleasant local vibe to the pubs here, even if some locals attach the descriptor ‘shithole’ to Luton.



We visited at least...

• The Great Northern, a small ‘old men's pub’ (not an insult) that did provide a new beer for us, albeit a Spanish lager that we would later see at several other places
• The White House, a competent enough Wetherspoons whose selection did not impress us – partly because they don't serve our traditional JDW bacon butties after breakfast hours
• The Black Horse, a fairly characterful public house with a local feel and with no ticks for our metaphorical new-beers card
• The Globe, an L-shaped street-corner pub recommended by a local and solidly of the English pub ilk
• The Castle, or Castle Live, an even more classic English pub, apparently serving up live music on the (not huge) premises too
• The best saved for last – the Bricklayer's Arms, comfy, unassuming, and serving all kinds (local and foreign, tall and short, even Anna and Phil)

Saturday the 23rd

Our second full day in the country began with a civilised pan au chocolat and a charity-shop crawl with Chris in town en route to the bus to St Albans.
     The main stop there would turn out to be the Mad Squirrel taphouse. Whilst I could hear the church bells beckon through the windows near the loo, sightseeing proper would have to wait (though not long), since darkness had fallen by the time we left, 3×3 thirds, eight pigs in blankets, and a takeaway-can purchase later.
     Chris left before us, leaving us to benefit from staff codes, recommendations, and samples.
     When we eventually tore ourselves away from the squirrels, we popped into the Boot, which treated us to the same welcoming and lively atmosphere as last time.
     After that, we endured pre-bus cocktail bar quickies since the Black Smith's was full. Though that bus eschewed old coins and non-swipey cards, we did make it to Chris's (albeit with one fewer beer in the bag upon arrival), where her lovely prefab herbed pork awaited us. She had also prepared lovely gravy, parsnips, and such vegetables as broccoli courtesy of the end-of-day two-bowls-for-a-quid section of the street market near the St Albans bus stop. Introducing Chris to microwave-magic pork crackling provided icing atop the meal.


     Look what the squirrels dragged in:

Sunday the 24th

Christmas Eve opened with a civilised breakfast of toast 'n' tat ends with Cheddar and olive tapenade. Chris's tomato–garlic–balsamico reduction atop these provided further scrumminess.
    But the main order of the day was to head to London for a different sort of crawl: checking out the city's seasonal lights. Steered by a most capable guide, we soaked up...

• The Christmas book tower cum tree at St Pancras
• Convergence of arches and the treeline at King's Cross
• The lights and wreaths of the Ritz
• Views of the Royal Arcade
• Bond Street in its Christmas garb
• What the luxury-goods purveyors of Burlington Arcade laid on
• Burlington House (which functions as Royal Academy HQ etc.)
• A walk up Picadilly to the circus of the same name
• The fashions of Carnaby Street
• Trafalgar Square, for Norway's contribution to proceedings
• Leicester Square and onward to the impressive Covent Garden displays
• A refreshment break – but one with a view
• Near the Thames: the Strand and then over Waterloo Bridge, with its view of the Houses of Parliament

     A rather ritzy environment:



     Bluish over-street lights lining our path toward (second row) the Royal Arcade:






     Bond Street sporting chandeliers etc.





     Burlington Arcade decked out in shifting colours above us and funky flooring underfoot:



     And Burlington House with its Advent-calendar façade:





     The arty blue shimmers of Carnaby Street:





     After the Haymarket theatre etc., the slightly mangy Trafalgar Square tree,
then swiftly onward (Leicester Square, heading past the other end of St Martin's Lane):









     And to Covent Garden, where the tree and decorations would put the Trafalgar Square display to shame even though we missed the hourly snow:










     The Nicholson's pub nearby providing views while we rested our feet:






     Night views over Waterloo Bridge, with a host of other iconic sights following on from here, before chips fortify us for the final leg of our journey: coming back round to Blackfriars Bridge to leave town as the mist descends once more:










     Down and out – to Harpenden, to round out the evening:

Monday the 25th

Chris provided mini blini for light breakfast bites of salmon, cream cheese, and optional caviar. The idea was to tide us over in the hours before Christmas dinner, as people and massive puppy started to converge.
     That meal fed us well with lamb chops, cheey cauliflower, Thai prawn balls, gravy, parsnips, and more, which would make for easy come-agains in the days to follow. Christmas crackers followed, then more food: mince pies and brandy butter and/or raspberry pavlova.
     We washed the food down with nuggets, or, rather, Chicken Run: Dawn of the Nugget and brought geographically distant relations closer from Canada via a FaceTime call, before hauling ourselves back to the table for an unusually Yahtzee-heavy round of Yahtzee.
     Perhaps the hardest part of the day was to haul our bellies to bed after indulging in cheeses and meats and pate and a nightcap.

Tuesday the 26th

Boxing Day saw Phil and me return to St Albans after demolishing a few bits of meats and cheeses and salmon.

We began by ambling through Verulanium Park and through a bit of the mud – the river too had over-indulged over the holidays and had swollen far past its yulehole.
     Starting at a venue conveniently tucked away near the abbey and lake, we relaxed at a few more pubs than the other day. Both old and new to us, they all had their own feel:

• Venerable pub Ye Olde Fighting Cocks, which welcomed us with beers on top form
• The Peahen, rivalling the latter for beer quality
• An easy-drinking swing past the White Hart Hotel, on Holywell Hill, missably close to the White Lion
• The Garibaldi, the thoroughly inviting Fuller's pub on Albert Street
• The charming Beehive
• The Farmer's Boy, also familiar from a prior visit
• Finally, the Robin Hood, whose signage made it the apple of our eye

     A leisurely start to the day out: a veritable walk in the park:




     Next door to nature, local brewers' fare awaiting at Ye Olde Fighting Cocks:


     A relaxing abbey walk:



   



     A shame perhaps that the Mad Squirrel pub was closed...
but 'twas safer that way:


     Onward to the Peahen, a civilised long-time McMullen pub on London Road (where many of St Albans's hostelries reside) that would introduce us to the Rivertown brand, alongside other malted beverages (left):

     Following a recommendation from the chap next to us at the White Hart Hotel's bar yielded a surprise tasty, easy-to-drink cider (right):

     Beam-rich buildings lining the path through a pub-dense neck of the woods as darkness fell:


     While the Goat got away, we didn't stay thirsty long: the Garibaldi – home to top-notch London Porter – did well by us indeed:



     A few more stops, including the Beehive, to round out the early evening:


     Before the Robin Hood's ‘'Cider Pub of 2023’ banner beckoned us inside, for a deal on three chosen thirds of ciders:

Wednesday the 27th

The main event for today was heading to Heather's in Radlett. After a cleansing visit to the gym (for Chris) and coffee, biccies, etc. (for us), we enjoyed the company and hospitality before being handed off to a new driver, Phil's dad, for the next stretch of our time in the UK.
     As luck would have it, John had been given – and was kind enough to decork and share – the 32-year Cragganmore whisky of which he'd received a case (labelled ‘John's dram’) on the occasion of his retirement in 2005. Since 2023 - 2005 = 18 and 32+18=50, this served well enough for satisfying our ‘drink your age in whisky’ tradition, albeit a few days late. In addition, we sampled a tipple made with hibiscus and juice of the berry that gave Argentina's Calafate region its name.
     Also on the menu were a lovely crumble and a megatrifle (ice-core tubes would have been the ideal tool for tackling the latter), scrummy pigs in blankets and dark ham, a tabbouleh that pressed my buttons especially well when accompanied by the neighbouring hummus and a squeeze of lime, and a parade of cheeses (such as Black Bomber) marching in later.
     We left with a sense of how various people are doing after a span of several years and with recommendations for television programmes such as Slow Horses and popular beat combos such as Ultrasound. As the assembled company began to disperse (perhaps some had been scared off by the mysterious avocado-slicer), we headed for Denham.
     There, we received the usual welcome tea and more general hospitality, an engaging French & Saunders documentary, and a persistent cloak of anti-telephone-reception.


     How tricky is it to turn 50 without one's cork disintegrating?

Thursday the 28th

One relaxed morning and map-related paper jam later, we were off on another day trip, this time to High Wycombe. With Phil's dad most graciously volunteering to chauffeur us to a suitable starting point, we made a quick rain-dappled stop first, of which the Internet notes:

Denham Golf Club is the only station on the national network to retain examples of the Great Western Railway's idiosyncratic "pagoda" corrugated iron buildings, which were once commonplace all over the former GWR system.

Friday the 29th

A low-key Friday took the three of us to the Thai place for their lunch special (we opted for mixed starters and a beef greenie, both of which worked a treat) and nibbled on two types of prawn cracker on the side.
     A supermarket sweep followed, with our trawler pulling in a few ticks plus the main haul: assorted chocolate- and potato-based snackstuffs for sharing with friends back home and for ablative luggage-padding.
     Overall, this was a relaxing day in. Channel 5's (optionally-Grand-Marnier-accompanied-)coffee-accompanied Snooker 900 tournament proved fast enough. Our final evening in Denham included foiled salmon steaks and parsnip–potato–sweet-potato mash. Yes, we were treated well yet again. A post-meal walk helped the food settle and netted us a few stars overhead too.

Saturday the 30th

Morning mince pies and we're off, this time with the Carmody Express dropping us off at the Hayes & Harlington railway station, from which the newly opened Elizabeth Line runs all the way from London to Reading, our destination for a ‘welcome back’ hug from Mark & Sarah.
     As the journey progressed, our connections to the mobile network flickered back into some semblance of life; however, that might not have been necessary as we emerged from the Reading station, for a rather obvious rendezvous point soon revealed itself:
  • The Fuller's pub right next to the station.
The day's waypoints additional to this were

• The Greyfriar
• The Nag's Head
• The Castle Tap
• BrewDog Reading

     Our inaugural transit via the Elizabeth line:


We'd been trained (apologies!) to recognise a suitable meeting point – the Three Guineas:

    


    Also near the station, The Greyfriar offered spacious accommodation and both ‘proper’ and ‘crafty’ beers.
There were enough of these to keep us amused, and Sarah was well served with a Belgian touch. Belgium was able to keep a warm hand on her shoulder throughout our wanderings, in fact.



    Slightly more crowded, both with humans and with beer taps, the Nag's Head approached us next. It gave us not only a pint of dark stuff for Mark but plenty of other ales, plus some moreish pulled pork (no pulled beef today) and toasties inspired with onion jam and cheese.



     We weren't quite filled yet, and neither was the Castle Tap. We'd be quite fortunate in this respect, especially on our return visit here. Good fortune did not extend to escaping from Sarah's proffered portion of Brussels-sprout beer, though.
     Among other weird highlights were presumably seldom-used dartboards (for people of unusual proportions?) and a wireless PIN pad with separate wireless screen.


     The last pub of the day, BrewDog Reading, which gave us several drinks, in several styles:




     A church photo snapped before we boarded the double-decker bus ‘home’ and, greeting us there, a slightly cheeky tapestry summarising Reading, before our double-decker meal:


     Some reading matter and drinking matter for washing down the sumptuous Afghan feast:

Sunday the 31st

New Year's Eve was a largely sofa-focused affair, from civilised masala tea and a creature from the planet Fiorelatte burbling away in its bath to a dalliance with a creature from the planet Gallifrey.
     We devoted the time between these to a foray into town, where we navigated spaces between crowds well via a couple of tourist highlights from ages past and present, then from one new beer to another in a secluded snug, and on a path that took us from one brewpub/taproom to a second. The bus journey after this positioned us to check what was closed (e.g., the Nag's Head) and open (e.g., the taste of beetroot cider). Today's beer haunts were

• The Alehouse
• The Phantom Brewing Co. taproom
• Double-Barrelled Brewery & Taproom
• A return visit to the Castle Tap

     Starting with a little bit of sightseeing in the city centre: the town hall with its clock displaying the last hours of 2023 and its statue of Queen Victoria, the church tower, and environs:


     Lovely snugs at the Alehouse, where we found a secluded spot in back for indulging in a selection from their copious range of ticks:







     On the road...
to the Phantom brewpub, which between its two bars served us a flight of five beers and then several third pints of others:





     With a walk in intermittent rain, the beer trek brought the Double-Barrelled facility into view:






     Beating the crowds, a return to the Castle Tap – bullseye!


     New Year's Day rolled in well. We even convinced Sarah to sit down and enjoy – diagnosing wrinkles in the complex heating system could wait until the morrow – Unboxing Day would be at hand:


     In the meantime, we were plenty happy... or maniacal... or perhaps a bit of both (frielfie taken by Sarah):

Monday the 1st

The new day dawned to a trusted combination: our cheeses and our hosts', with breads. Neither could we resist the allure of latticed rum mince pies. Thus fortified, we set off for a tourism safari.
     We encountered the day's first wildlife at Forbury Gardens, where it stood obligingly still for photos of its masculinity (it did help that our leonine subject was cast in iron).
     Next, we headed into the past, where the abbey ruins were spread out before us. Even without the signposting, it would have been easy to imagine how people moved about in these spaces.
     In the wilds beside Reading Canal, more mobile wildlife appeared: on the walls of Reading Prison, site of the town's Banksy, and bobbing along the water. Among other nearby sights were the church marking the start to pilgrimages to Santiago and the bridges across the river.
     These led us to the area that self-identifies as Caversham. There we enjoyed the hospitality of
  • The Fox and Hounds, with its six real ales and various keg offerings, before returning to
  • The Greyfriar, quieter this time, and
  • The Nag's Head once more, which was the final pub with high-priority doors open to us on New Year's Day,
    
Not in need of an especially wild party, we repaired to Mark and Sarah's in time to relax before supper. This time, we opted to try Persian cuisine. Persian Palace (if I remember the name correctly) offered a five-starter set that enabled us to indulge in two forms of aubergine (smoked and walnutty) alongside hummus and yoghurt, obligatory okra (in a sweetish sauce), and some more grilled meat – with lamb mince and black-edged chicken providing two stars of the show – served well by delectable sauces (chili, raita, and minty). Though not a patch on the Afghan contribution to our time in Reading, this proved far more than serviceable.
     To end the first evening of the new year, we retreated to Doctor Who's Patrick Troughton era, for The War Games. This 10-episoder ultimately felt nowhere near as long as the Christmas thing had. As we watched this classic regeneration serial, we plucked beers from history, alternating Fuller's Vintages from Mark & Sarah's box (such hosts!) with Mad Squirrels. The latter time travel stretched all the way back from 2023, through gaps from 2021 and 2022, to 2002.


     Bad omens before the bus ride?:





     Sightseeing, from glass to gardens:


     This statue and war memorial is renowned for a certain ballsiness:



Pictures from wanderings that led us to and through the ruins of Reading Abbey, with rather more modern spires poking out too (see the final image):









     The banks of the canal and the Banksy-stencilled prisoner escaping from behind bars:


     St James Catholic Church, marking the way across the river for our pilgrimage to not-quite-Santiago:






     Caversham ho!:



     A site for hunting rare beasts, the Fox and Hounds:




     Some other views, among them strong women to usher us firmly back toward home turf:



     The Greyfriar proving itself unable to keep us away as the sun began to dip lower:



     Just a bit of Nagging... Yes, we do have homes to go to...


     Still bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and safe from the feared marauding hordes of Exeter or Reading footie fans, we were ready to tackle some squirrels...
And to dip into The Box:

Tuesday the 2nd – Wednesday the 3rd

Perhaps we should have stuck with the post-breakfast coffee rather than venture into the murky world of Yonder Black Forest Gateau beer (for luggage-lightening purposes), which was explicitly and rightly declared horrid by Sarah. Wrestling the Streaky Printer of Death (for boarding-pass purposes) proved equally pleasant, so we resorted to printing glacially at the central library after enduring a mine-minute hole between buses.




We'd have little time for reading in Reading, though: we made it to Paddington by the skin of our teeth amid cancelled-for-flooding train services.
     London's weather leading up to our early-morning departure from the UK valiantly attempted to blow us toward the airport. But we had a few stops first. We began at
  • Paddington Station, with the Mad Bishop & Bear.



This Fuller's pub had trusty ESB and others from the set of usual suspects at the ready.





Seasonal vegetation (Pinus baubulata) and street art kept us amused on the breezy few steps down the road to our next watering hole.




We were soon tucked away within
  • Bear Pub Paddington, a small-brewery-focused venue
where we put our focus on cask ales, alongside a couple of keg offerings that introduced us to brewers we'd not come across before.

The clock was ticking, however, and we had to be on our way, metaphorically leaving a few taps for next time.



    
Heading in the general direction of Hyde Park, we stepped beyond a wind-buffeted canopy and into
  • The Victoria, an environment redolent of ages past, still in Christmas trim.

Reshuffling of seats as a group of patrons vacated the premises enabled us to take up stations beside a window, which looked out at a wind-whipped Christmas tree just beyond the glass.

  


It may have been nippy outside, but the upstairs area of this pub with its old long-drop cisterns provided some of the trip's least damp and draughty pub loos.
     Also upstairs were some very well-appointed rooms, available by prior booking only.






Partly for logistics reasons, we headed next to
  • The Euston Tap, with its new terrace area.

While keenly aware of the weather as we supped on our stouts, we were happier out here than consigned to the cramped corner dedicated for the time being to a customer with more than three bags and more than three sheets to the wind.
     A curry on Drummond Street was obligatory, wasn't it? Yes.
     And all the food was lovely at our chosen location, Ravishankar. From the paratha and pickles to the shared thali with its dal soup, raita, cheesy peas, glowing shrikhand, etc., this place made up for the time away from Britain's subcontinental fare.
     It also left us so full that we skipped the Doric Arch and even the pub right next door.

The wind blew us right past fabled real ales beside Farringdon Station, so we headed straight for a vigil at the airport, for the sum of £22.40 a head.
     After passing through Security, though, we did have time for a final drink or three before our flight. Taking things slowly, we sampled from the suspiciously clean and competent beers on tap at the airport's
  • Big Smoke pub.



Between the cans they sold for carry-on takeaway and the cider, we finished off the liquids that Big Smoke could offer us and headed for the departure gate.

Until next time! And, Mark & Sarah, see you soon in Tallinn!

Now you can go home...