Ghost Ship of Hammersmith

Those of you who have driven over the Hammersmith flyover - or even looked up from the tube as you enter the tube station - are probably familiar with the peculiar looking building next to it.

(left) the Ark

This is the Ark - designed by Ralph Erskine who also designed the famous Byker Wall - and it's probably the most prominent feature of Hammersmith.

It looks like it was fated from the start - completed when the property market was in a slump and occupied briefly by Seagrams - in recent years the building has been empty - seemingly cast adrift between the Talgarth Road and the tube - and looking a bit sorry for itself with the lights switched off.

(right) the wide open spaces inside the Ark

I've spent most of the past ten years or so staring at it from my office window so it was great to have the opportunity to take a guided tour around the building and see what it is like inside.


On asking where we wanted to start the tour, the unanimous decision was to head to the Crow's Nest. From here you had some of the best views over west London - or we would have done had the weather not been so drab. Still very impressive.

The remainder of the building was very impressive too - there have been modifications to some floors as it looks like a sole occupier cannot be found and so occupancy on a floor by floor basis is being offered.

But the overall feeling of light and space suggested it would be a great place to work.

For anyone interested in technical details on the building, see the official site. The tour was arranged by HammersmithLondon.

Up Town Top Rankin

I was having some very weird dreams but they turned into a nightmare - Steve Duffy in his boxer shorts leaning over me - "wake up, wake up!!".

For a split second it was like one of those anxiety dreams - you're trying to get somewhere but the world is conspiring against your every move and you simply can't make it? Or is that just me?

This though was stark reality - I'd apparently slept though two sets of alarms and had just 20 mins to get to Cardiff station and catch the 5:55am train back to Paddington.

Thankfully Steve had woken up and was curious when he hadn't heard me lumbering around. As he lives about 10 mins from the station, I made the train with a couple of minutes to spare but I suspect it was an ungainly journey as I wasn't even in a fit state to tie my laces.

It's safe to say I was suffering a tad from the excesses of the night before and I did my best to get some kip on the train. Once back in London, I dropped into the office for a change of clothes and things slowly started to feel a bit better.

Next stop was Waterloo where I met up with John Wilson and a trip to Maries for a No 7 and chips - and a little further along the road to recovery.


We'd been disappointed to find that the Red Lion in Isleworth no longer opened at 11am and so the Magpie and Crown was going to be our first call of the day once.

(left) John admires the view and some gloves

On the way we took a leisurely stroll from Kew Bridge along the Thames Path, admiring the houseboats close to Brentford Ait - all very pretty.

The Magpie and Crown is run by Steve, a Hartlepool fan, and he always has some decent beers available. Today we had a choice of Itchen Valley's HMS Warrior, Slaters Owzat, Hogs Back HBB and Okells Mild (which later ran out and gave way to Goachers Mild).

I didn't make the best choice in starting with the 5%+ HMS Warrior which took me 45 mins to work through.


After that I downsized and tried the Slaters - much lighter at about 3.7%, quite tasty and certainly easier to handle.

I finished off the lunchtime session on the 6.3% Seidr O Sir Maes Edwy - no, not some dodgy Belgian brew but a very palatable Welsh cider. One of my five portions for the day.

By this time we had a healthy selection of DAFTS plus Geoff, our Plymouth chum, who was enjoying his side's televised victory over Cardiff. The Welsh theme just doesn't stop, does it?

Neil and Mari had come over from Norway for the game plus a bit of recreational pre-Xmas shopping. As usual Neil was doing his best to persuade Mari that she does like beer, she just has to try harder and she'd realise it. I'm afraid that the Frulli failed in it's task - however I suspect this is not the end of Neil's campaign and Mari will be turning her nose up at a lot more drinks in future.

Following a hushed "Good Luck" from the landlord, we wandered to Griffin Park where we'd been given the choice of standing downstairs or sitting above. We took the standing option of course - it was a nice change to be able to wander about and as a result there was a great atmosphere - we were not surprised to see Gloryhunter Spencer join the merry throng - our gain is clearly Droylsden's loss.

The first-half was fairly even but in the second half we seemed to pick up the pace. Hopes were raised when we got a free-kick and these were realised when the Burgerman put in one of his pinpoint balls, not to Alan White as so often in the past, but to Richie Foran who lost his man and headed in neatly.

Thereafter we were under a lot of pressure but the defence held firm and when the Bees did get through, their shooting was woeful. Foran had a good chance to make it safe late on but their keeper kept his effort out.

Unfortunately we couldn't hold out during added time - from the away end we weren't able to see exactly what happened but judging by the players reaction, it was some sort of error by Oakes.

Post-match analysis was held as usual at the Brewery Tap, a pleasant little Fullers pub tucked off the main road.

Unfortunately they didn't have the London Porter which has been very well received this year - instead we settled on the Seafarers Ale, a light ale which I remember drinking here more or less a year ago. Very worthy drinking since 5p from each pint goes towards a seafaring charity.

And then by the time it was time to wend our way home, I was feeling almost human again...

Rock'n'Roll Riot

It was an early finish to the working week and a midday train to Cardiff - I'd opted for the quiet coach but it seems that the nearby table of Kiwi gobshitesses didn't think that this meant them and their incessant tirade of nonsense. It turned out that they were going to Wales for the rugby - enough said.

Steve met me at the station and took me to our first point of call, The Vulcan. This pub stands alone by a car park and is destined to become one in the not too distant future. It's a lovely traditional boozer, no frills, and both the Bitter and the SA were on good form - Brains isn't one of my favourite brews but these were very enjoyable.


There is a petition to try and save the pub from the redevelopment frenzy that seems to be engulfing Cardiff but it struck me that the elderly landlord had the look of someone who was looking forward to his retirement and wasn't too keen on being saved.

From there we wandered to the Owain Glyndwr - it's real ale annexe was shut for the afternoon but they still had some handpumps in the main bar - all Welsh brews, Felinfoel and Cambrian were the ones we tried and they were decent enough without being outstanding.


Our final calling point was Zerodegrees - a relatively new addition to the Cardiff scene which is quite similar to it's older sibling in Blackheath - lots of chrome and very bright lighting. The beer was their usual fare - the Pale Ale and the Wheat beer were fine if not a bit on the freezing side.

Cath joined us and asked for a black lager - on ordering it I noticed the barmaid was pouring the stout instead. I said I'd ordered the black lager and she said that this was the black beer they had on that week. It didn't strike her that they'd be totally different brews - this lack of knowledge about their products is a bit disheartening - perhaps no one else moans.

We were joined by Steve's brother Martin plus Neil and his family and after a few more beers, we made along to the students union to see Primal Scream as part of the NME Rock'n'Roll Riot tour.

The reviews of previous gigs on this tour had been very encouraging and they were spot on - a cracking sound, maybe a bit louder than normal (which suited me fine), and the crowd loved it.

(right) Martin tickles the ivories

Afterwards we went to what could well have been Club Sponking (a haunt of Naked Video's Siadwell for those with long memories) for the aftershow party. Not much in the way of beer so it was G&T for me which is never a good idea. After a while Martin joined us and then a little later some of the other band members (Innes, Darrin and wee Barry) also appeared.

I thought they were looked a bit lonely on their own - no doubt really enjoying some quality alone time - so I decided to go along and have a chat. I think it was rather rambling and incoherent - not made any easier by a band playing in a corner.

Thankfully they were spared any further earache as we left and headed back to Steve's where the sofa awaited me...

Jonah No More?

For the first time in quite a while, Howard travelled up with us - he's aiming for one game per month this season as he doesn't watch to overextend himself.

He's not always a welcome sight to some DAFTS, especially those of us who remember Darlington's equaliser against Watford earlier in the season - scored as soon as Howard disappeared from sight after he'd assumed we were beyond hope. And now that we don't get Brummie Tony and Lance going to games, Howard is the prime candidate for a scapegoat when things go wrong.

This time his jinx factor was being pitched against that of the Manager of the Month award - the opposition being form-team Lincoln City and their manager PeterJackson.

Today Howard has beaten me to Da Vinci's - or Orlandos as we still like to call our breakfasterie of choice at King's Cross. I won't bore you with a photo of their artery clogger - I'll save that for another day but be assured it was similar to that from last week - I'm sure you've got the idea by now. Howard was rather more restrained - tea and toast - these cycling spandex wearers need to watch their figure!

The southern section of Kings Cross Crew - my rather crap moniker for our merry band which includes Chris Stockdale, now back in the bosom of his family back north - was complete when Martin arrived and we caught our usual service (8:30am) to Bank Top.

Arriving about ten minutes late, we made our way into town with the utmost haste - the Quaker Bar was open. Grocery store magnate Tony Waters was already ensconced when we arrived - he wasn't sure if he was going to the game but we knew he'd go in the end.

In due course, Gloryhunter Spencer Austin joined us - he'd been quite busy since we last met - not least undergoing a six-hour interview with former chairman George Reynolds - sounded like fun.

And he's finally allowed into the Arena but is not allowed to use his monopod to hold his camera as it could be used as a weapon (presumably not against the lame brains of our stadium management).

Whilst Spencer went to join the younger set at the stadium and help blow up balloons and Howard went for pies, Tony and I followed our usual routine and went to Number Twenty-2 - more beer, including the excellent Goose Eye Over and Stout, and then taxi to the ground.

I think we were all wondering just how good we'd find Lincoln to be given they'd been given the nod over us for the last month's performances - however any chance of an evenly matched contest looked to be out of the window after Foster received his marching orders.

Apparently it was for foul and abusive language rather than an actual foul- and presumably it was worse than the tackle made on him that went unpunished. As did the numerous fouls and elbows on Liam Hatch. It's not the first time we've had cause for complaint against Mr Matheson - I'm sure it'll not be the last.

A word in your ear, Fossie - leave the foul and abusive language to the professionals in block 11.

(right) Alternative MotM: Liam Hatch

At this stage I suggested to Howard that he do the honourable thing and leave - he declined to do so - he can be stubborn like that.

Dave Penney pulled off wee Franz to be replaced by Tim Ryan - this caused moans from a small minority but to many it was clear that Franz is only an international left-back as he appears to be the only Liechtensteiner that can play in that position.

Darlo managed to hold their own without much trouble for the remainder of the half - determined defending and some decent work from Brown in goal plus a general ineptitude from the Imps.

The second half saw Liam Hatch put us in the lead after being put clear by on-loan Foran- no more than we deserved. Hatch continued to plough the lone-man role up front and had almost collapsed in the ground by the time he was subbed.

The Quakers continued to look good value for their lead and we looked strong enough to hold on to our slender lead but it was all academic after Richie Foran slotted away the second right at the death.

A really great atmosphere - the best for quite a while, certainly in the relatively serene environs of Block 11 - long may it continue.

There were a few moaning Lincoln fans at the station - convinced Foran should have walked for stamping on one of their players. Quite frankly I don't care.

After arriving back at King's Cross, I had a few pints with my Wycombe chum Paul - both of our teams top so certainly worth a celebratory pint. But there's still a long, long way to go and both teams have been here before only to drop away. Time will tell...

Shot By Both Sides

FA Cup 1st round - the magic of the cup and an opportunity for ITV and Setanta to patronise the lower leagues - and plucky non-leaguers Drolsyden come to the Arena in their quest for glory.

Well not for me they don't. The problem with the cup draw being made just two weeks before the game itself is that there are no cheap rail tickets left. I'm daft but not that daft.

Thus I have the opportunity to relive my trip to Aldershot from earlier in the season and join the London Millers on their road to Wembley - or not.

A pre-emptive strike is made by a few of us at Waterloo - Liz and I bump into Toddy who has just flown in from Moldova (via Geneva). Once his luggage is left at the station, I drag them both to one of my favourite breakfasteries, Maries.

No need to check the menu - no 7 and chips for yours truly. Toddy is like a man possessed - the continent is not the place to live if you like the full monty. By God, he's missed this pleasure.

(left) No 7 and chips

As we get stuck in, Chris and Tim join us and soon the only sound you hear is that of arteries furring up.

Once fuelled, Chris and I take the early train to Aldershot whilst the Liz and co. wait for Jenny and some of the other LMs. We're keen to get to the White Lion as soon after opening time as possible and we drag along young Kirkland Minor who we bump into at the station.

The White Lion is probably the best pub in Aldershot but is about a 15 min walk from the station - and as it's pissing down, we're pretty sodden when we get there. Chris K and I stick to the Moondance, Chris T goes for the Pressed Rat and Warthog - going off we suspect - but the Moondance is as drinkable as ever.

We're joined by the others after a little while, full of the news that the Millers and the Quakers are to meet again soon, this time in the Johnstone Paint Pot Trophy Semi-Finals (North) - no doubt another night of fun awaits us at the DVS. I think I'll be washing my hair that night...

On arrival at the Recreation Ground, we face the long walk up the hill and through the trees to the away end - all very scenic but a ski-lift really would be handy for this.

I love this ground - especially the fact they have a nice terrace at the side under the trees - a shame it was raining but Chris T and I braved the wet for the first half at least.

The first half was similar to my last visit - the home side applying most of the pressure and some last gasp defending by the visitors.

Early in the second half, Darlo reject Micky Cummins put the Millers ahead.

And it looked as if it Rotherham might just hold out to win the tie but a late penalty - from a poorly executed tackle that didn't really need to be made - saw the Shots level right at the death. Deja Wycombe.

Sorrows were briefly drowned in the Crimea Inn, opposite the ground - a decent pint of Hobgoblin with Wadworths 6X also on tap - before the London contingent headed back to Waterloo.

One of the nearest pubs to Waterloo with relatively decent beer is the famous Hole In The Wall just outside the station. It has a fairly average choice of beers - Youngs Ordinary, Purity Gold and Hog's Back TEA were on the handpumps though the Purity wasn't actually on. Well, turn the f**king pump clip round then!!

On arrival the place is full of plastic Premiershite types watching the Liverpool -v- WBA game but these all piss off as soon as the game finishes. We grab a table before the place is overrun by England rugby (union) fans, and their obnoxious off-spring, singing their tedious drinking songs and generally being gits.

Thankfully Toddy's Cossack impersonation diverts our attention - and his entreaties of "Time for a last one, comrades?" means we chill out nicely before disappearing into the night...

Brass Monkeys in Steel City

Taking a leaf out of Dagenham & Redbridge's book, I travelled by first class to Sheffield where Brian and Trevor were patiently waiting for me. Unfortunately a staffing crisis at Olympic Ministores meant Tony wouldn't be joining us for an extended pre-match session. I bet Mr Tesco is always having this problem...

My trip today was going to involve a few firsts - and this started immediately as we board the Sheffield Supertram.

There has been some debate in recent years on introducing trams back to London - if they're as empty as the one we took then I'd be happy. Somehow I doubt they would be though. And no doubt there'd be chaos on the roads for years.

(left) Supertram leaving Shalesmoor

Our first calling point was the Wellington - just a hundred yards or so beyond Shalesmoor tram stop.

It's a cracking pub that reminds me of the Wenlock Arms in many respects - a great range of beers, some excellent scratchings, a lived-in feel plus a pub dog which will hoover up those scratching we dropped (though the landlord complains that he's the one who has to get up in the small hours when they make the dog sick).

Whilst Brian and Trev went for pints of Millstone's Baby Git, I decided to go for the 5% Keystone Hops from the Weatheroak Brewey. This turned out to be a full-flavoured hoppy beer, not a surprise, which belied it's strength and was very easy to drink.

Although we were well settled here, we headed over to Kelham Island and my first visit to the famous Fat Cat. This has now become the new base pub for the London Millers when attending home games and it is a nice little pub though currently surrounded by scaffolding.

What is to say about this place other than it has a great range of beers and what looks to be a very hearty menu. We just had more scratchings.

After another couple of pints, we walked round the corner to the Kelham Island Tavern - another famous pub.

Looking slightly more refurbished than the Fat Cat, we were faced with another impressive range of beers. And a barman who kept calling us "love" - very Dick Emery...

Conversation was slighly stifled when we noticed the sign asking patrons not to swear otherwise they'd have to leave the premises!

Don't they know that swearing is both big and clever?

Before we caught the tram towards the Don Valley stadium, we returned for a final pint at the Wellington.

The temperature had dropped dramatically and it was bloody freezing - Brian muttering that it was too cold to watch football and threatening to miss the game and go home instead.

As the tram drove through Sheffield, we were joined by young turk and former travelling companion, Chris Stockdale, who was late arriving.

Trev and Chris went onto the stop for the away end whilst Brian and I got off at Attercliffe in order to have a final pint at the Cocked Hat. The place was full of Darlo fans and our new chum, the Gloryhunter.

I tried to get some beers but they don't serve real ale on matchdays as it take too long - doesn't stop them pouring Guinness though does it? I take a perverse turn and order a G&T as the beer choice on keg was less than inspiring.

Spencer and I were having a good chat until we realised the game had been going for ten minutes and we'd better get in. I made the long walk to the away end - the DVS looking impressive from the outside but the view when I'd finally found a seat in the upper tier was a tad distant. Apparently it's a lot better from the home end which is scant consolation.

A fairly even first half with some early Rotherham pressure but not a lot of excitement to keep us warm. For the second half I moved to the lower tier to join Chris and Martin.

Darlo managed to restrict the Millers forward line whilst still creating chances of our own. We got a bit of a scrambled goal from Ravenhill and for the final third, we worked hard and restricted the Millers to just a few chances.

Given the freezing conditions, the final whistle was more than welcome and we rushed out of the ground to find where Martin had parked is car.

Not surprising I slept for most of the drive back to London and it didn't seem too long before Martin dropped us off in Hammersmith where I was able to thaw out in my office. Time to dig out the thermal long johns at this rate.

Glory, Glory

Despite having the usual big breakfast before our train left King's Cross, my first task on arriving into Darlo was to get the pies in.

Many years ago when we were at Feethams, no one really thought about taking your own pie to the game. They were there - with peas and chips too.

Sadly the pies at the Arena are pretty poor fare and have been for a while - generally heated through to a crisp so that the pastry crumbles into dust.

And in Darlington there's only one pie purveyor to consider - H Taylors and sons. So it's steak and kidney for Colin and me, mince pie for Martin and a corned beef slice to take back for my tea on Monday!

The town clock strikes 11am and so onto the Quaker Cafe for the first beer of the day. Landlord Steve is in his Sunderland shirt - eagerly awaiting the Tyne-Wear derby in a couple of hours time.

I opt for what is said to be the first carbon-neutral beer, East Green from Adnams, and it's not a bad drop.

At this point I'm joined by Spencer, the Gloryhunter, who I briefly met at Wycombe last week. He's spent his first week in Darlo so he probably deserves a drink.

Before too long, Colin Fletcher arrives and after a little prompting, outlines the finer points of Subbuteo to Spencer who is showing more interest than is good for him.

We move onto Number Twenty-2 where Paul Brown and Iain Swalwell are already ensonced. I also bump into my old chum Paul Walker.

Paul and I first met in the Brian Little era - I'd put an advert in Mission Impossible asking for lifts to games from London - Paul was my only reply.

Paul now lives in Scotland and so gets to fewer games - today he has a bunch of his Scottish mates in tow - they don't always bring us luck.

Station Taxis were their usual efficient selves and before long we're all at the Arena, Spencer wandering off to try and find where the club have left his ticket. It's easy to see that this glory hunting lark isn't as easy as it sounds.

(left) No gratuitous shot of floodlights so the town clock will have to do

The game was a bit of a mis-match - despite their elevated league position, Dagenham looked much as they did at the end of last season - almost without hope - and Darlo should really have beaten them by more goals than the final 3-0 scoreline.

As usual, the Dagenham & Redbridge party, directors as well, travelled to the game by train - however they're not looking quite as happy when we last saw them in May. This season it seems they're travelling first class. Not for much longer if their slide down the table continues.

After shifting some itinerant Jock students from our reserved seats, we were pestered by some Glasvegas fans from Dunfermline who wanted to share their Buckfast and their wit- all very stereotypical but true nonetheless. You'll not be surprised to hear we declined...

Atfer what seemed like hours, we're back at King's Cross and I'm off to the Doric Arch for a final few beers - the London Millers in the form of Liz, Jenny and Chris joining me later on. The pub has a full set of guest beers for a change - the Taylor's Landlord is on good form so maybe there's hope for this place yet.