Andrew Harrison – Andrew Harrison's personal website

Easter crawls

originally posted to the London Pubs Facebook page

It’s Good Friday and, as tradition demands, I am on a bit of a crawl.

Dodging some spit-spotty rain I wander into the Trafalgar Arms (148-156 Tooting High Street SW17 0RT). Like many pubs in this neck of the woods it’s a sizeable place, set back from the road and benefiting from a front-loaded beer garden. Inside, the lights are at a pleasing dimness, with three rooms containing a central bar and a variety of seating in the wings. As this is a Youngs house I order a pint of Ordinary, on sale at £6.25.

I settle, and take in my surroundings. Behind me a table of four are playing repeated games of jenga, their conversation being punctuated by the occasional crash. To my left, a couple with a spaniel occupy a pair of armchairs. Their companion, who I decide for the purposes of this story is named Colin, likes to wander, seeking affection from another couple in another pair of armchairs. “He’s yours now”, joke his owners. This is evidently a dog friendly establishment, with a dedicated treat station and a rogues’ gallery of canine regulars.

My beer is quaffable but not the best example I’ve had. I restock at the bar with a pint of TT Landlord (£7.25) and return to my seat to discover that Colin has amassed a little crowd of admirers, which he seems to enjoy.

A pint of Timothy Taylor Landlord at the Trafalgar Arms, Tooting

I take my leave, wandering along the road towards the maelstrom of central Tooting. As it seems poor form this evening to walk past a pub, I duck into JJ Moon’s (56a Tooting High Street SW17 0RN) identifiable by its very name as a long standing stalwart in the stable of Tim Wetherspoon. A long and narrow pub, there isn’t a huge amount to say about it – it’s a Spoons and while I’m sure the carpet is both lovely and unique these sorts of things don’t tend to impress me much. What does impress me is my singular pint of Twickenham Brewery’s “The Naked Ladies”, a hoppy 4.4 per cent amber ale at an affordable £3.09. I find a seat towards the rear of the pub. There is a general hubbub and I fail to zero in on any eavesdroppable conversations.

I plod onwards, choosing next to darken the door of the Castle (38 Tooting High Street SW17 0RG). This is a Tardis of a pub and absolutely vast inside, with a similarly large outdoor area with a series of ingenious open sided little cabins and other seating for those who like to consume al fresco. I opt for a further pint of Landlord which is most enjoyable and £7.20, which is less enjoyable.

Heading ever northward, I decide my final staging post shall be a personal favourite, the Mayfair Tavern (127 Upper Tooting Road SW17 7TJ). There’s little to tempt the casketeers here and I go for a pint of lovely Carlsberg, unchanged in price from my last visit (which must be nearly a year ago) at a very reasonable fiver. Take It Easy by the Eagles (a song which contains what I always think is the one of the most perfect and evocative popular song verses ever written) plays out on the juke box, the young lads at the front enjoy their game of pool, there’s a good bustle. All seems right with the world when you’re in here, it is a fine place. I suspect I shall have a few here.

And what shall be next? Could there really be a visit to SW17 without a taste of the fine curries of Tooting? Probably not. I expect I shall let you know.

(If you were wondering, the verse is Well, I’m a-standing on a corner / In Winslow, Arizona / Such a fine sight to see / It’s a girl, my Lord / In a flat-bed Ford / Slowin’ down to take a look at me)

Popular in Poplar

This evening I set out on another capital beery perambulation, this time to discover some of the pub delights of Poplar. Deposited by the 15 bus at Chrisp Street, I strode through the pedestrianised arcades of the eponymous market in anticipation, but this crawl was to begin with disappointment – the first two pubs on my list (the Festival Inn, 71 Grundy Street E14 6AD and Callaghan’s, 55 Chrisp Street E14 6LP) were closed. This would not do.

I retraced my steps, heading south to the Hope and Anchor (14 Newby Place E14 0AY). This was the putative third pub on this crawl but was now promoted to first up. There was nada on the hand pumps but a pint of refreshing Heineken can be had for £5.50. The lighting is of a dimness that’s ideal in a pub, with things being brightened somewhat by an early appearance of Christmas decorations. The hits of Phil Collins play out on the stereo and there’s a good crowd in. Almost everyone seems to know almost everyone else which is surely one of the hallmarks of a popular and proper local.

The George IV (7 Ida Street E14 6LT) is next, and here is a conundrum: is it open or is it closed? A couple of minutes’ observation determines that it is indeed open, albeit a bit quiet. With a small crowd around the bar and all the keg favourites (don’t be silly, it’s the East End, no cask here) it’s a pleasant enough place for a couple of pints of Kronenbourg at a reasonable £4.70. There is a pool table with an unambiguous sign: “Winner stays on is NOT a thing in this pub”. The gents situation is most unusual; a deep and extremely narrow alcove contains a single urinal that requires the user to stand at an angle with elbows touching the walls. Hand washing facilities can be found in the cubicle which would provide an interesting dilemma in the event that this was occupied. At the bar the conversation is about Christmas arrangements and presents for grandchildren.

I go for a short walk and end up at Bum Daddy’s – the Manor Arms (150 East India Dock Road E14 0BP). It’s quiet here although there’s some rugby on the telly and Stella for £4.50 with a few comings and goings. The windows are misted up with the cold outside. A regular of Eastern European extraction arrives and sups at his pint, bemoaning his lot: “I am working, and working, and working!” As a dull office drone I don’t have that problem today, yet I know how he feels.

I continue my quiet boozy deliberations. The Eastern European man puts some rock music on the jukebox, and turns to me: “I leave two credits, if you want…” he says, pointing at the jukebox. Is he sure?, I ask. “My gift to you!” he replies. I am not one to look serendipity in the face and step up to the challenge, ensuring the credits do not go to waste.

The Eastern European man leaves after a few pints and I take my leave a bit later, leaving only the barman and one other customer. On the bus heading back towards Aldgate I feel a tap on my shoulder as we arrive at a stop. It’s the barman, wishing me a good night. I’m not sure how quickly he closed the pub after I left to end up on the same bus as me, but I reciprocate with a thumbs up and wonder as I often do about where the trope of unfriendly Londoners comes from.

I hop off the bus just before we cross the New Road to head to a favoured and trusted curry venue – Lahore Kebab House (2-10 Umberston St E1 1PY) where I swiftly end up with my very favourite dishes of dry lamb and tarka dhal. There are obviously a great many fancier places to eat curry, but I love it here with its constant comings and goings, cricket on the telly and rather random service.

Dry lamb curry at Lahore Kebab House — A fiery dry lamb

Tarka daal at Lahore Kebab House — …and a fine tarka dhal

I cannot think how many times I have dined here. The lady who takes my payment has been here every time I have, and displays not one hint of recognition. Long may it continue.

A two-curry day

It was earlier in the week that I identified that Friday had the potential to be a two-curry day. Everything hinged on getting into London reasonably early in the afternoon, and managing to restrain the compulsion to dine until my arrival at a favoured destination. I decided to put my appetite in the hands of the road gods, and see what may or may not be possible.

First curry: Indian Veg

92-93 Chapel Market, London N1 9EX

The Northern Line spat me out at Angel, and I made my way across the busy A1 towards Chapel Market. Entering the market from Liverpool Road, the first shop you encounter is a big M&S, however the mix quickly changes in favour of independent businesses (along with its market) and as you walk along, one discovers a curious treasure trove of unfashionable signage. Passing the Millennium Café where a sixteen year-old Luke Littler ate his pre-match omelettes during the 2024 world darts championships, I walked on towards Penton Street. And soon enough, on the left, I found Indian Veg.

Around forty per cent of Indians identify as vegetarian and, knowing that this was now surely to be a two-curry day thought I had better join them for at least one of my meals. Indian Veg has been serving up a variety of interesting vegetables in a buffet format since 1984, and has been saved on my “curry possibles” Google map for the last three years or so. How have I only come here for the first time today? With its bright green exterior and various posters advertising the health benefits of a diet of vegetables it is an aesthetically busy delight.

I enter to find a man I take to be the proprietor sitting at one of the restaurant tables, facing the door, attending to his mobile phone. “One?”, he asks me. “Yes please.” He directs me towards a table and bids me to help myself. Hanging my coat over the back of the chair I find that each place is set with a plastic tablemat declaring lentil soup to be a nutritional powerhouse.

This isn’t the only available guidance on the powers of the humble lentil. Looking around, I note that just about every available surface is covered in posters informing the reader of the unique qualities of the vegetarian diet. Anyone choosing to eat here shall not leave uninformed as to the ways of the vegetable. It is everywhere; on the tables, on the walls, on the windows and so on. I would have no shortage of things to read.

Approaching the buffet, I decide to heed the guidance on the table and begin with some lentil soup. This appears to take the form and colour of a liquidised daal tarka. It certainly has the seasoning of one, and a level of spice that works with the seasoning to produce something that is really quite delicious. I decide I could eat this quite regularly, and on finishing the small bowl deliberate on filling another. I decide against this; there is more on the buffet to see.

Wandering around with a plate I amass a range of interesting vegetables. There are quite a few variations on the theme of potatoes and lentils, three types of rice and some small and suspicious looking onion bhajia. The vegetables are all well cooked and have imparted plenty of flavour from the masala. Even the bhajia were more giving than I had first suspected they might be.

Other than the excellent lentil soup, favourites from the buffet included the spicy mashed potato and the paneer, pea and coconut curry albeit with plenty of fishing around to find the paneer. I returned for a second spin of both of these. The bread was small and oddly greasy, but not unpleasant.

A few customers come and go as I eat, all of them solo. This is evidently a popular spot for the lone diner. Taking my leave I pay a different chap, our friend with the phone having disappeared. “Did you enjoy it?”, he asks. I very much did.

Second curry: Lahori Karahi

230 Commercial Rd, London E1 2NB

It’s later the same evening, I have been in Limehouse indulging in refreshing beverages and have the munchies. Stepping off the 15 bus at Watney Market I heave to for Lahori Karahi.

I had spotted this new entrant to the East End curry scene as they were readying themselves for opening back in the summer, and had been intrigued by a curious strapline on their sign. Here, in the Whitechapel/Shadwell borderlands, was a restaurant promising to deliver curry from Manchester, and I was informed by the inestimable Hector that it was most likely to be an offshoot of Lahori Karahi in Levenshulme, Manchester. I had to check this out.

I made my entrance into a brightly lit room with an open kitchen off to the right, fronted by a counter with a range of fare on display in the true style of a curry café. Taking a seat with a good view of the door I evaluate the menu and am immediately drawn to the array of karahi dishes available by the kilo, not least under the section entitled “Brohi of Balochistan” where one will find the legendary and peppery white karahi. I was again solo, and stuck therefore with the smaller meat portion where such wonders were not available. There is karahi though, and paya and nihari and haleem, so the lone curry hound need not go hungry.

The waiter arrives, and explains that I am seated in a restaurant that specialises in karahi. Well goodness me. I order lamb karahi, on the bone, along with a portion of daal tarka and a butter naan. For hydration, a glass of mango lassi. The waiter returns after a few minutes, bearing my lassi, some raita, and a salad of cucumber, onion and tomato. Four gents arrive, and take a seat in the window. They are doing the kilo. I am envious.

After a respectable wait, here is my karahi. A reasonably dry curry, but with a rich looking masala and visible oil separation. A sprinkling of coriander atop. The lamb is generously apportioned, and tender. The masala is delightfully spicy but maybe a little light on the seasoning. There is a chance that meat and masala have only got to know each other comparatively recently, but this is a fine karahi indeed.

The daal is delightfully thick and well seasoned, a rich yellow ochre colour with some of the lentils not entirely broken down. It is a delight. The naan is served whole and blistered, moistened with a brushing of ghee, maybe a smidgin less well done than I would usually like but this is no great problem.

With an accompanying little mountain of naan, the gents get their kilo. Taking a stickybeak across the tables I am struck with a jealousy – it looks superb. I return my attention to my own meal, separating meat from bone as I go. I am enjoying myself.

Paying my bill at the counter, I am asked if I might mind leaving Lahori Karahi a review. Go on then.

Imberbus 2025

Where do you find a bus service that runs once a year, through a military training area to serve a place where nobody lives? The answer to this unusual question is the abandoned village of Imber, nestled on its own in a valley the middle of Salisbury Plain.

Imber is an old village. It was mentioned in the Domesday Book of 1086^1 (albeit with just seven houses) and at its largest in 1851 had 440 inhabitants. By 1931 this number had fallen to just 152. It was an isolated little place, and unless you worked on the land here or provided services to those who did, there was little for you there. Travelling to Imber was not straightforward: a Mr Fred Maidment of Chitterne recounted to the Wiltshire News[^2] that it lay nine miles by road from the already lonely Gore Cross, and when he walked to Imber to preach became regularly fog-bound to the point that he would leave a lamp in one spot, carrying another one forward until he found a familiar landmark.

At around the turn of the century Imber had become hot property – the Ministry of Defence had been buying up land in and around the village, and by 1902 owned some 43,000 acres. They took advantage of the lean years of the twenties and thirties to acquire further areas of land, and by the outbreak of the second world war in 1939 owned the entirety of the village and its surrounds as part of the Salisbury plain training area.

In late 1943 the MoD issued its tenants in Imber with notice to quit, with the expectation that they would all have moved out by 17th December of that year. As with the similar possession of Tyneham in Dorset, the residents were promised that they could return after the war – and as with Tyneham this promise was never fulfilled.

Access to Imber is now permitted on only a few days each year, and one of these is dedicated to the gloriously bonkers Imberbus.

Imberbus was born from a pub chat between a group of bus industry managers on the subject of “where is the most unlikely place you could run a proper bus service?”, and started in 2009 with just four vehicles. Excepting a break for the ‘vid in 2020 it has operated every year since, managing a bumper run-out this year of some forty vehicles. Passengers can hop on and off at villages and hamlets like Chitterne, Tilshead, and Market Lavington, with Imber itself being the star attraction in the middle of this little one-day transport network. The buses run as a normal public service – no reservations are needed, you just show up and pay the conductor, and spend the day riding between remote hamlets, soaking up the scenery and the oddness of double-deckers traversing the military and very rural landscape, passing places with such evocative names as Brazen Bottom and New Zealand Farm.

Imberbus has built a friendly, almost festival feel, with stops at museums, local cafes, and church hall fundraisers along the way. The day runs entirely on volunteers, and proceeds go to the upkeep of St Giles Church in Imber and charities such as the Royal British Legion. Taking a trip on Imberbus is a like a visit to lost England—a nod to the past with Routemasters, across land where civilians very rarely tread.

Read more about Imber here and here. See more photos from my visits to Imberbus below, or check out these Flickr albums:

[^2]: Wiltshire News
17 December 1943
Image © Successor rightsholder unknown. Please contact us via support@britishnewspaperarchive.co.uk if you wish to claim rights to this title.. Image created courtesy of THE BRITISH LIBRARY BOARD.

At a High Angle

The High Angle Battery (New Ground, Portland DT5 1EF) is one of the Isle of Portland’s slightly less well-known gems, hidden away on the south side of the Verne citadel. Its guns fired up at a high angle to be able to land shells down on the decks of enemy ships from above. Constructed in a disused quarry in 1892 in the wake of Lord Palmerston’s Royal Commission on the Defence of the United Kingdom, it was intended to protect Portland Harbour and ships at anchor within it. Its high, hidden position and network of sunken gun emplacements and underground tunnels made it invisible to enemy ships.

Advancements in ship design meant that the Battery became obsolete within just fifteen years of its completion. Ships no longer needed to be stationary to fire accurately at targets, and High Angle could only fire accurately at stationary objects. It never fired a single shot in anger, and was decommissioned in 1906.

After years of dereliction the site was renovated as part of a scheme of work by the Manpower Services Commission in the mid-1980s and officially opened to the public (who had spent years exploring it regardless). Further years passed and the site once again began to deteriorate, suffering the numerous attentions of graffiti taggers and other petty vandals. Historical features gradually became overgrown, and Weymouth & Portland Borough Council played a continual cat-and-mouse game of securing the underground tunnels only for them to be broken open again. Nevertheless, the battery continued to offer a quiet and fairly contemplative space for those who wished to make use of it.

With the continued dereliction and vandalism showing few signs of abating, Historic England placed the battery on their register of at-risk sites in November 2022:

High Angle Battery within the Verne Citadel is being placed on the register due to ongoing erosion, which is damaging some of the buildings and tunnels. Excessive weed growth is also affecting the archaeology, and theft of stonework, vandalism and graffiti on some walls is a cause for concern.

This allowed Dorset Council (who had succeeded the borough council in 2019) to focus attention on the battery’s preservation, applying for and obtaining a £250,000 grant from the National Lottery heritage fund along with funding from the Fine Family Foundation and other local organisations including Portland Town Council and the Castletown D-Day Centre. This funding would permit a sensitive restoration of the battery, cutting back undergrowth, preserving structures, removing graffiti and installing some interpretation.

Worryingly, the initial proposals involved closing the underground tunnels off completely. In the consultation that followed, this was one of the most contentious bits – people were happy to see the site restored but the tunnels were such a central part of the battery it seemed foolish not to include them somehow in the regeneration.

What has been finally unveiled in the spring of 2025 is really quite superb. The graffiti is gone, apart from a small section that’s been retained to help tell the story of the battery’s dereliction. All the undergrowth has been cut back, and a number of replica guns and shells have been installed, being attended to by lifesize photo cut-outs of soldiers, all modelled by locals, in period dress loaned for the occasion by the Palmerston Forts Society. All this is accompanied by some excellent interpretative boards that nicely set out what’s what and how everything worked when the battery was in operation. Best of all, the tunnels have all been left open, with the sensible advice offered on the boards that anyone who wishes to wander below ground is better off doing so with a torch.

To make a bit of a record I took photos of all the interpretative boards, and these are shown in the album slideshow below should you wish to click through them. There’s no substitute for paying a visit yourself however!

Hong Kong day seven

My final full day in HK . Today I visited the Man Mo Temple which was again busy with people getting their devotions in ahead of the lunar new year.

Lunch was taken in the cooked food centre of the Sheung Wan market. These markets and eating places can be found in every neighbourhood and are a legacy of the colonial government’s largely successful attempts to get traders off the streets in the seventies and eighties – they are not easily comprehensible to gweilos (westerners) like me and I had to do a few circuits of the bustling space before finding an English menu. I ordered, and forgot to photograph, beef and scrambled egg with rice which was just what I needed. Hongkongers don’t like their scrambled eggs all that well done which was fine for me, although I suspect some of the cooking process is still going on when the food is brought to you. With a drink included it cost the princely sum of fifty-three dollars which is about a fiver in sterling – amazing value for money!

There was then further afternoon wandering.

I took my ease in a cha-chaan-teng café for egg tarts and a cup of milk tea – both HK delicacies in their own right. The milk tea is made with evaporated milk which I have a childhood weakness for.

I’m now out for a few beers and something to eat, before heading to the airport to fly home tomorrow lunchtime. I’ve enjoyed beyond measure the bustle and chaos and east-meets-west of this place, and am already thinking how I can work HK interludes into my future family visits back to Australia. Cheers!

Hong Kong day six

My penultimate full day in HK. Today I visited the Taoist temple of Wong Tai Sin, where many Hongkongers were lighting incense and various other combustible offerings that could be purchased from stalls around the temple, in advance of the lunar new year. If I believed in such things, I could have also availed myself of a reading from many of the fortune tellers also located in the arcades of the temple!

I then travelled on the MTR (Hong Kong metro) to the bustling neighbourhood of Mong Kok, home of many watch dealers, where I may have treated myself to a little something following some reasonably extensive internet research as to the more trustworthy vendors. I was offered a seat as I tried on various watches and received several advices including “buying a watch is a tiring business” and “you can’t be a real Hongkonger without a proper watch”.

I also visited one of Mong Kok’s cha chaan teng cafés to experience fusion food in the opposite direction. Years of British influence here have led to these fine establishments offering a wide variety of caff-style food but with a definite Cantonese bent – my “combo sandwich” of spam and scrambled egg being a fine example of this, providing vital fuel for an afternoon’s Kowloon wandering. I might start a campaign to get these introduced in my favourite British greasy spoons.

Spam and scrambled egg cha chaan teng sandwich

I’m now out for evening bunkers (that phrase again) and making plans for my final full day!

I dined at Hay Hay Kitchen, 11 Luard Road in Wan Chai where I enjoyed a cold beer with my barbecue pork and fried egg.

Hong Kong day five

Day five in Hong Kong . Last night I returned to Sing Lum Khui in Kowloon for another bowl of beef and pork noodles in that fiery soup that I so enjoyed the other day (see posts passim).

Today I travelled cross-border to Macau which was to be honest a slightly frustrating experience. Where Hong Kong is easy for a Brit to understand, I found Macau to be confusing to navigate with the ferry terminal being on the outskirts of the centre.

Practically it’s difficult as well as few places seem to accept western credit cards (in HK Visa, Mastercard and Amex are universal in the same way as they are at home), preferring the Chinese payment systems that are based around QR codes but need to be tied to a local bank account, or a system completely proprietary to Macau that again requires you to have a local bank account. I was finally able to pay for something in cash with HK dollars to get Macanese Patacas as change.

The Portuguese architecture that is probably worth seeing isn’t easily walkable from the ferry terminal in the time I had so I spent most of my time wandering around various unlovely 1960s shopping arcades and the all-enveloping Vegas-style casinos which were of little interest to me.

As someone who does much of their tourism by walking around it was a bit of a disappointment and I would have probably benefited from some slightly better planning.

That said we are all the richer for the experiences we choose to take! I was however pleased to get back to Wan Chai for evening bunkers in a pub I had come to quite enjoy.

Hong Kong day four

Day four in HK, and a visit to the Kowloon Walled City park. The Kowloon Walled City was a Chinese military outpost that despite being in Kowloon never entered into British possession, however because of that possession covering everything around it could also not be used by the Chinese. It thus became something of a grey area and the home of one of the densest unofficial settlements anywhere. Surviving numerous attempts to shut it down, it persisted until the early 1990s when the colonial government was finally able to relocate the 35,000 residents. It was replaced with a rather lovely park containing a detailed model of the settlement in its final days.

The previous evening I dined at Wan Gui Chuen, 107 Hennessy Road in Wan Chai. This is another of those places with an Argos-style form that you fill in to communicate your order. The form here (annoyingly I forgot to photograph any of these during my stay) contained no English so I had to complete it with the help of Google Translate.

What appeared was maybe not quite up to the standard of Sing Lum Khui the night before but I really had little to complain about, the soup was hot and the umami strong.

Hong Kong day three

Yesterday evening I paid a visit to Sing Lum Khui at 23 Lock Road, Kowloon where I enjoyed noodles with various bits of pork and beef in a hot and sour soup (ordered “medium spicy” on the Argos-style card that I forgot to photo) that provided a delightful spice blast unlike anything I’ve known before.

The soup these noodles came in was really something, well-seasoned and incredibly spicy with the abundant coriander providing a welcome punch of freshness. The Argos-style order form that’s often used in these sorts of restaurants is just visible in the container with the chopsticks. If you come to Hong Kong you should really make an effort to eat here, it is superb.

This morning I crossed the water to Kowloon once again to hop on a bus to visit the street markets of Sham Shui Po and sample some of the food available from the various walk up shops around the market. And now I’m out in Wan Chai for some evening refreshment – can anyone spot a theme here?!

All of Hong Kong’s infrastructure standards were imported from the UK. Thus, HK is one of the only places other than the UK where one can find double decker buses in mainstream use. The two main bus operators, Citybus and Kowloon Motor Bus, run large fleets of air conditioned triple axle vehicles, all with bilingual real time information and announcements. Hong Kong also has a tap-to-go card called Octopus that can be used on all public transport (except taxis) and for a host of other things – the vast majority of convenience stores and fast food places accept it as well. There’s an Octopus phone app (which I’ve got) that you can recharge using Apple Pay or the Android equivalent as well.

These rice sticks are a bit uninteresting until they get covered in soy sauce, peanut sauce, some other type of sauce and sesame seeds at which point they become really quite nice. Apologies for photographer hand, you eat them in an alleyway so there’s not a lot to put the bowl on.

Curried fish balls – the Hong Kong delicacy everyone should apparently try. To be honest I didn’t think these tasted of a great deal. The photographer’s hand (and watch strap) makes another appearance.