The Devonshire is no tourist destination. Like most in London, the pub is long, narrow and dark. The tables are actually recycled butcher's cutting blocks; the stools are mismatched in height, color, and style. Customers sit over their pints and ploughman's and watch the dart match to the left or the football match on the right, viewed on a flat-screen television, the Devonshire's sole concession to modernity.
We sat at the bar and looked at the specials on the chalkboard. I went for Cumberland sausage and mash, three plump bangers served over a mound of coarse mashed potatoes and fried onions. We watched the football game among the regulars, eating our meals and joining in the appropriate ooh's and aah's when a keeper picked off a corner or a striker was hauled down by a defender.
No one cared who we were or where we were from. We were just blokes in the Devonshire, having a pint and watching our side in a match on the pitch.
The White Cliffs of Dover, from a tunnel exit
6 comments:
I didn't get much about what you were eating, and I speak English. Doesn't matter though. I'll eat it anyway.
Chris (My Blog)
Now this, I like.
Scoot over and let me in!! Sounds like a great place. Bangers and mash...makes my mouth water.
Glad you got to break from the kids and mix with the natives. That's one thing about Britain; we Anglos can do that if we don't talk too much, but you sound like you can even pass in that respect! The Dover photo, which I take it you shot on the move, is striking.
*debbi*
Ah, a REAL bar as opposed to what Mike Royko called "fern bars"...it sounds great.
Judi
"three plump bangers served over a mound of coarse mashed potatoes" -Such marvelous imagery you've provoked here though I ain't got the fogginess notion what a danged banger might be...
Somehow I missed this entry the other day but I'm not surprised you'd find a pub to wander off to.
I'm assuming you were watching what we dumb Americans call soccer and not the bloody sport of football where the ball is actually manipulated down the field by way of brute force rather than fancy footwork?
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