Another Friday night, another fiasco. Dialling the chap from cab with request that he fetch my £2 piggy bank for cashless cow en route. I have raided this so often in the last few weeks that piggy is bled dry and each day-after I find withdrawal slips and cash in bag. My booze befuddled brain completely losing the trip to cash machine immediately prior to getting in cab. Truly pathetic. Anyway I am on final warning so best I behave... for now. No more nights of not remembering the getting-home bit, drink-and-dial shenanigans and losing possessions (yes, again last night).
But this self flagellation is a digression from the purpose of this post; to wax lyrical about the delightful Jerusalem Tavern. In a quiet street in Clerkenwell this is a former coffee house, built in 1720 and with the original fixtures, fittings and furniture in situ. A real gem, lovely service and knowing that many a soul has gotten far more boozed there than the lovely C and I did last night.
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