There is no hack (S.Hrg.109-539)

Pretty much whenever TJ turns up in town, I nearly immediately drag him to a brewery -- ok, ok, it doesn't take much convincing, actually -- because beer tasting is not nearly as fun all by oneself. During his last trip into town, I took TJ on the Hackney Brewery Trail, which I highly recommend over the Bermondsey Beer Mile, as what it lacks in proximity it makes up for in quality.

It didn't look promising from the start, as our first stop was Tap East, which happens to be in Stratford City Mall (left). But my negativity toward a mall bar turned around when I had a pint of Life's a Beach, a pineapple and coconut wheat beer from Brass Castle Brewery, one of quite a few unique offerings on tap. From Stratford, we headed toward Hackney proper, passing by the Olympic Stadium in Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park on the way to the River Lea (right).

The inviting interior of The Plough is a bit of a contrast from the industrial Swan Wharf surroundings (top left). The pub comprises the ground floor and loading area of former manufacturing buildings, which over the years have been home to twine and stair-tread producers; the area is now being redeveloped as an innovation center (top right). I wasn't very innovative in ordering a Pale Ale, a flagship beer from Truman's Brewery, with which the pub is associated. As we proceeded to our next stop, we passed a distribution center for the brewery (bottom).

 

As we strolled along Hertford Union Canal, which funneled us back to the main River Lee Navigation, we saw lingering signs of the the area's derelict reputation (top). But as soon as we entered Crate Brewery, the evidence of hipster-led gentrification was overwhelming (bottom left). It wasn't busy at first, but soon enough, those in the know were filling the place for post-work drinks. Luckily, we got our pizza order in before the wait time got too long; I enjoyed a Wheatermelon witbier with our Middle Eastern Lamb pizza (bottom right). 

A few short strides through a parking lot, and we were in the Howling Hops Tank Bar, the United Kingdom's first dedicated tank bar (top left). The atmosphere was so nice that we stayed for a couple of drinks, including a Hopfenweisse dry-hopped wheat beer for me, and soon enough, even though our pizza was filling, we couldn't resist ordering a smoked-beef sandwich from Billy Smokes (top right). We walked off at least a few calories as we crossed Victoria Park on the way to our next stop (bottom).

The People's Park Tavern sits right on the edge of the park, so its garden attracts a lot of post-league player gatherings (top). On such a sunny day, the upstairs tap room was empty (bottom left), meaning there was no line as I ordered a Cherry Tart Belgian blonde ale from Fourpure Brewing Co. The tavern is a base for Laine Brewing Company (bottom right), but I skipped out trying their beers because, a few days earlier, we had visited the brewery's other outlet in Acton: The Aeronaut, where I had an Aeronaut Ales porter. We had such a good time at The Aeronaut and at Dragonfly Brewery -- by far, the most atmospheric pub brewery I've been to in London -- that I forgot to take any pictures.

Running short on time, we skipped The Cock Tavern, where Howling Hops was first brewed in the basement, so we could get to London Fields Brewery before lights out (left). The surprisingly perky bartender talked me into a 3 Weiss Monkeys white IPA. We appreciated the friendly vibe, so we vowed to come back another time and rushed off to Duke's Brew & Cue, the birthplace of Beavertown Brewery (right). The staff was nice enough to let us enjoy our final drinks of the night, a Quelle saison for me, as they performed their closing-time ritual, which involved cleaning vigorously while dancing wildly and singing loudly to '80s R&B.

Having already exhausted most of the brewery hotspots in town, I had to opt for the Wapping Pub Crawl when TJ came for another holiday. We started at the Town of Ramsgate, which likely was the original site of a Execution Dock for pirates, before we proceeded to The Captain Kidd (top left), named after the famous Brit who switched from a battler of buccaneers to a raider himself -- and who was later executed near Wapping Old Stairs. Further down the high street, The Prospect of Whitby (top right) has re-created the former Thameside gallows (bottom left). We ended the night with some great conversation and an even better meal -- of a pint of whitebait and fishcakes -- at The Grapes (bottom right).

 

Sometimes, I manage to talk someone else into coming with me on an ale adventure. Another weekend, I asked a colleague who also had an out-of-town spouse to accompany me to the Cuddington Beer Festival. We turned it into a true outing by hiking to the festival. On the way, we strolled through the wildflower-flush grounds of Kingston Cemetery (top left) and along greenery-overgrown Hogsmill River, where Sir John Everett Millais is said to have envisioned his famous Ophelia painting (top right). The festival was a true community event, held at a Scout Group headquarters (bottom left) with members exchanging tastes for tokens and grilling up burgers for a good cause (bottom right). 

On another occasion, I went with a group of friends to the Great British Beer Festival, the near-exact opposite of the Cuddington festival, as it is held in the humongous Olympia exhibition center (left). My most deliberately chosen item was a "Trouble" pork and beef burger, with Lutenica sauce, from Bulgarian Grill. Otherwise, I just bounced from stand to stand, plopping down pounds as if I were slipping them blindly into pokie machines. I remember that I tried Wibblers Brewery's Crafty Stoat stout, Dartmoor Brewery's Three Hares honey ale, and Palmers Brewery's Colmers pale ale, but the only taste that left a lasting impression was Saltaire Brewery's Triple Chocoholic stout (right). 

Their idea of the three R's is a little bit different (146Cong.Rec.H8206)

Quite a while ago, I devoted a no-plans three-day weekend to the three R's: a run, ramble, and ride. The run was just a little jaunt around the neighborhood, but for the other two R's, I headed outside of London. For the ramble, Sage and I caught a train to Ashtead station to do the eastern loop of this circular walk, which was pretty similar to a circular route provided by The Star, a pub a little ways off the trail. (I, for one, encourage all pubs to follow suit in drumming up business with good walk guides.)

Sadly, I didn't get to patronize the pub because we arrived at the trail early in the morning, well before many of the area walkers and runners were out (left). By the time we got to the three-quarters point, the pub wasn't even open yet. But to go back to the beginning, we set off from the Woodfield entrance to Ashtead Common (right). It, along with adjacent Epsom Common, combine as a Site of Special Scientific Interest, because their varied habitats are host to rare breeds of birds and beetles, among other species.

 

Most animals I saw were other dogs on the trail, but when we passed by Stew Pond, which dates from medieval times, I saw a few people fishing for aquatic lifeforms (left). And I suppose that the geese swimming in the pond might have been feeding on some of those rare beetles (right).

As we rounded the bend to the lane running along Rushett Farm (left), I could spy some domestic fauna in the distance. In my opinion, the flora -- in particular, the many stalks of foxglove -- were much more impressive (right).

The final stretch of the loop was the heavily rutted Concession Road, which provides access to livestock pens within the common. Trenches made by tires turned into mud pits that Sage enjoyed splashing through. When we got back to the train station, I had to do some pretty good scrubbing to get us presentable enough for public transport. 

The next day, I picked a ride from a wonderful book given to me by a departing colleague: Lost Lanes. So far, I hadn't done much long-distance cycling, so I picked one on the shorter side: ride 10 "Windsor Great Park." Sage stayed at home, but my bike and I disembarked at Egham and made our way (after a few wrong turns) to Windsor Great Park through the Savill Garden entrance.

The first part of the ride skirted along Virginia Water (top left). It was a lovely day, so lots of families were out with their strollers, making for some tough navigation on speedier wheels. But once I climbed the hill past Cascade Waterfall (top right), I had more of the path to myself. There were surprisingly few people at the Leptis Magna ruins, a temple constructed of columns and stone brought over from a fallen Roman city in Libya (bottom left). And by the time I crossed the Five-Arch Bridge (bottom right), I had a near-carless road to work with.

 

That road took me past the Guards Polo Club grounds, where unfortunately no matches were taking place (top). Across from the fields sits the Prince Consort Statue, which I later nearly confused with The Copper Horse, a monument to King George III (bottom left). That statue is at the peak of Snow Hill, on one end of the The Long Walk. Looking the other way, one can glimpse Windsor Castle (bottom right). I couldn't get a closer look because no bikes are allowed on the paved run-up to the castle.

Eventually, I exited the park and headed back toward the train station. Along the way, I stumbled upon the Commonwealth Air Forces Memorial (left), which was just a short distance away from Cooper's Hill Woods (right). At the woods, the route turned into dirt track, and despite my minimal mountain-biking skills, I managed to stay astride my bike for the whole descent back into Egham.

My hat's off to you and you should be congratulated (154Cong.Rec.H5782)

I'm not really one for major sporting events or overly formal dress, but when you have the chance to participate in a 300-year-old tradition, you suck it up and strap on some heels and headwear. Many people spend hundreds and even thousands of pounds on hats that measure up to the dress code, but I opted for embellishing one I got for a steal from a charity shop in Rochester. In part, this was out of a philosophical objection to dropping a lot of cash on something I will never wear again, but it was also a way to make me feel slightly better about shelling out so much for tickets to the Royal Ascot Races.

My friends and I boarded a train in London with many other race-goers and shared some champagne during the short ride to Ascot. There, we disembarked and climbed the chute up to the racecourse (left). I don't know what I was expecting, but it definitely wasn't a mammoth stadium-like structure. If not for all the horse statues (and fascinators), I might've thought I was at the Super Bowl (right).

Right outside the main entrance to the grandstand is the Parade Ring, where the royal family are escorted in on coaches. We were close enough to get full view of Prince Charles (top left) and the Queen (top right) and even a glance of Camilla Parker Bowles before the monarchs and other high muckety-mucks inspected the horses that would be competing that day (bottom).

I sprang for the more expensive tickets giving full access to the Royal Enclosure, which is pretty much like the concession area of any sporting venue but with posher offerings (left). However, you can't take food and beverages to the observation area, so I had to near-chug my Victoria Cup Julep, so I wouldn't miss the first race. I thought I would at least be able to keep hold of my cool mug (right). We thought it was a souvenir, considering the cost of the cocktail, but we were wrong. Not only did I have to leave the cup inside the enclosure, but I didn't get to take it home at all.

You can't eat or drink in the stands, but you are allowed to place bets pretty much anywhere; you can't walk five feet without bumping into a bookmaker. I was too overwhelmed with human watching to research the equestrian side of things, so I didn't bet (left). But I enjoyed rooting for the picks made by my friends, some of whom had a score alongside the Queen with a win by Dartmouth in the Hardwicke Stakes. After all the races are over, the party is prolonged outside in the pavilion, where musicians in the Bandstand lead the crowd in a sing-a-long. Despite the lyrics on the screen, I had to stifle myself from belting the words of "My Country Tis of Thee" to the melody of the UK national anthem, "God Save the Queen" (right).

A few weeks later, I didn't have to get nearly as dressed up when I visited the home of another owner of former Ascot winners, the Earl of Carnarvon. You  might recognize his manor, Highclere Castle, from the opening credits of Downton Abbey (left). For a portion of the year, the family opens up the house and grounds for tours (right), where fans can see, among other televised settings, the Stanhope bedroom, where character Kemal Pamuk slept -- before he died. I particularly appreciated the copy of The Stud by Jackie Collins prominently placed on a cabinet in the room.

Indeed, the current residents seem to have a good sense of humor about their place in popular culture and their station in life. Hanging on the wall was a framed cover of the Private Eye edition about "Downturn Abbey," and resting on a nightstand was a Tatler magazine next to a book called The Revolt of the Elites. But the castle features some true historical treasures, including Van Dyck's equestrian portrait of Charles I in the dining room, Napoleon's desk and chair in the library, and green silk and a chandelier donated by Alfred Rothschild in the drawing room. (Sorry, no photographs allowed inside.) Equally impressive as the interior of the estate is the exterior, including the Wood of Goodwill (top), and the Walled (bottom left) and Monks' gardens (bottom right).

On such a beautiful day, I brought a picnic to enjoy in the lawn next to the Wild Flower Meadow (left). Before I departed, I took one final saunter up to Jackdaws Castle, a grade-1 temple possibly built in the 18th century by Lord Pembroke (right). In a twist fit for TV, the Earl of Carnarvon was in line to inherit the lord's long-standing fortune until the current Earl of Pembroke produced an heir in 2012.