House hunting is a tiring business … a thirsty one. I had just come out of the most recent dumps on offer and really needed to rinse the bad taste out of my mouth. Up ahead, I could see the White Tower from my perch upstairs on the bus and rang for the next stop.
“Where are you?” Jackie asked when I rang to report on the morning’s explorations. When I told her the White Tower she cut my sentence off with, “I love that building. What’s it like inside?” I told her about the old guy either asleep or dead at the entrance and how everyone else is crowded round the bar area. Then, I coaxed her back to the business at hand.
Good bar, friendly people, but it closes at 6 from what I can tell on google maps (the Facebook page is a little more generous). A day drinker’s paradise, though.
Endless British Pub Crawl (Part 3) 