I’ve written before about the value of a local. I think I’ve found a new one – the beautifully named Mad Dog in the Fog. Found it thanks to Time Out’s guide to the city and it’s a top place.
It’s a British pub, it even has London Pride on tap, albeit in limited quantities. But it has the qualities of a great local. Not too crowded, a garden with sunlight and bar staff who know what they are doing. The barmaid T is a marvel; she knew my usual pint on the second night and made me feel welcome. Once the Pride barrels fell empty she recommended a pub across the street that did cask ale. When someone recommends a competitor you know they are professional.
As it turns out the pub she recommended was full of wankers, good beer but a very bad atmosphere, but fair play to her.
Add into that a plethora of good fast food places in
One odd moment. Saw a girl with a fifty pence piece in her wallet and started chatting. S was very nice, a fellow Brit and a yachty who like rugby but goes home on Wednesday, but nevertheless I spent some time showing my flirty colours.
We bonded over pints of Boddingtons and sharing information about SF. She’s gorgeous but then she mentioned she was gay. Fair enough, but hadn’t she been mentioning how much she fancied Wilkinson?
“I said I fancied him; not that I wanted to shag him,” was the pithy response.
I like this lass. We agreed to meet over the weekend.
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