London called

And I answered. Well, I went there, at least. Along with Dolores, on our traditional December trip.

No blow by blow account this time. Just a few photos and observations.

Staring with the really important stuff. Most expensive pint? 7 quid forty for a pint of Landlord in the Marquis Cornwallis. Fuck me. That's as bad as Amsterdam. It was a pretty good pint, mind.

Most annoying? Two pubs where there were handpumps with their clips thew right way around, but none of the beers actually on. This happened at the Rocket on Euston Road and the Nags Head on Camden High Street.

I was struck by how much Landlord there is in London. Even our hotel stocked it. (At just 4.95 a pint and in surprisingly good condition.)  Which is good news, as it's a beer that's up to Dolores's high standards. She's quite fussy when it comes to beer. More so than me. Traditional cask Bitter is her thing. London Pride being her favourite. Though she's more than happy to drink Landlord. She wasn't as impressed with Shepherd Neame Masterbrew. Thin, in her opinion. She switched to cider.

Most of the cask was in decent condition. Other than a couple of pints in the Euston Flyer. Where both my ESB and Hophead were past their best. Though not vinegar.

All the pubs we visited seemed to have plenty of custom, even in the afternoon. We were in central London, though. Mostly in pretty touristy bits. I'm sure that it's not typical of the country as a whole. Or even all of London.

Everything seemed a good bit more expensive than last year. Which I suppose is to be expected.

And what of breakfasts? I hear you ask. A proper full English every morning. Fried eggs, bacon, tomatoes, toast, tea and orange juice. The perfect start to the day.

I got to eat a pie, too. With mushy peas.

To complete our seasonal bliss, we attended a one-man performance of A Christmas Carol in the Charles Dickens house. Very impressive.