There’s something about Christmas that brings out the worst in CD Tenerife, we have had some stinkers in the past just before the break but this 2-2 draw with Marino de Luanco was one of the worst.

With current form described as wobbly at best, a strong performance was needed against opponents from a small village with just 5,000 inhabitants. The defensive mentality of coach Calderon has alienated many fans and even allowing for other festive distractions the Heliodoro looked well down on numbers, a mere 6,441 was the official figure.

The first half hour of play was awful, neither side troubled the goalkeepers and play was scrappy and lacking any direction. Tenerife finally managed a shot after 27 minutes from Kiko (top pic) but this and a Chechu effort soon after were easily dealt with by former CDT stopper Ponzo. Woken from their slumber, Tenerife started to show some good football and were rewarded after 33 minutes, a Bravo cross was met perfectly with a glancing header by Kiko and it was 1-0. The visiting keeper had looked confident but lost the ball after Zazo shot following another Bravo cross, Perona (above) was on hand to score his 7^th of the season for a 2-0 lead at the break.

That should have been the springboard to a demolition of Luanco but the old problems came back for the second half. Tenerife looked happy to sit back on the lead and sure enough six minutes into play Titi put the ball past a hesitant Sergio to reduce the arrears. The confidence drained away and coach Calderon brought on Ferran and Marcos but they couldn’t make any impact and Meji on for Sergio Rodriguez a few minutes later was also a fruitless move.

The inevitable happened after 71 minutes, a break on the left ended with Arias scoring to level the game. Calderon was squirming on the bench as abuse started to fly his way from the frustrated crowd. Tenerife managed a late fight back, Bravo had his legs taken out from under him in the box but the ref didn’t give the obvious penalty. Bravo had a clear chance when Ponzo fumbled the ball but his reactions weren’t fast enough to reach the ball. Into injury time and Kiko could have got a penalty after being mugged in mid air by Ponzo and a defender but again the ref wasn’t interested. The final whistle brought a chorus of calls for Calderon to be sacked. Amazingly rival teams dropped points and Tenerife moved up to third spot but the problems remain and all eyes will be on our three wise men – Concepcion, Cordero and Calderon for some encouragement before Segunda B resumes in January with two away games.

Everybody has a story to tell and I love to hear them. Social media can ping news around the world in seconds but there’s still no substitute for talking to people and finding out how rich and interesting their lives are. Tenerife is an amazing place for paths to cross and Santa Cruz always rewards me with some surprise finds on my frequent visits up to the capital.

Take last Saturday, my intention was a pre christmas tour of decorations and nativity scenes but I found loads more. The docks are always a rich source and even a scan of the daily papers for ships passing through merely scratches the surface. Cruise ships have been coming in mob handed lately but it was two wooden masts that excited me, peeping over the fencing put up to hide the road widening of Via Litoral. Heading across the quay side I stopped to inspect two cordoned off old fishing boats rescued from the ravages of the sea. Ripped open, splintered, and covered in old sea life, they wouldn’t see another voyage but they had clearly had some fine adventures. Up ahead I found the Stavros S Niarchos (above) proudly flying the flag for the Tall Ships Adventures.

Hailing a couple of crew members they broke off from their spit and polishing to tell me a little about the ship and dug out a publicity brochure to fill in some of the gaps. Basically it’s a training ship for team building and confidence for those wanting a holiday that tests them against the elements. Based in Santa Cruz from November to April they take on paying crew for each 7 to 18 night voyage, the Captain’s Christmas Special was due to depart the next day, hence the frantic polishing, skirting around the islands for a week. Crews have to pitch in and learn to steer, set rigging 100 feet up, and stand watch as well as cleaning the ship during “happy hour”  well it is scrubbing to music. As I walked away I could hear the reassuring creak of the bough and the strain of the mooring rope.

At a little jutting extremity of the quay I noticed a dark brooding iron vessel low in the water so edged a little nearer, the military style uniforms advised caution so I snapped from a discreet distance and angle. Just as well, turns out the Alcaravan is a Spanish customs ship. no lingering here I thought and anyway a jaunty modern three master with a Swedish flag was beckoning me onthe other side of the port. Passing the main gates on the way around I noticed several scribbled notes pinned on seeking passage to Africa and South America. They all offered to work their way with skills such as cooking and cleaning but one proclaimed themselves as an entertainer and clown. In my mind I could see how that skill might not be quite what was called for when the ship was being tossed around in a raging storm.

Swerving round to the other side of the docks I found the Alva a 1939 built cargo ship from Stockholm conveted to a school ship, lessons at sea seem quite popular. This one when fully rigged has 600 square metres of sail. Inside the 44 metre long ship there are 15 cabins with all mod cons. I grabbed a quick word with the captain and it seems that they too are based in Santa Cruz for a few months to take out 30 upper school students at a time on regular learning trips complete with teachers to ensure they continue their normal lessons. The Tall Ship Adventures were quite expensive, upward of 400 pounds excluding flights to Tenerife, but Swedish law means the students can only be charged for meals, the rest comes out of normal teaching budgets. With my curiosity satisfied and some more leaflets to read I waved goodbye with the pungent smell of the newly applied deck varnish stinging my nose.

Oh well that was probably enough for one day but back in the centre of Calle Castillo I saw a motorbike draped with world maps and flags stood near a local cafe and moved in to read some of the press cuttings stuck to the bike. The roaring steed was clearly on a epic round the world journey, up stepped the owner a Russian adventurer Yarets Vladimir Aleckseevich. Pointing to a sign he explained that he was trying to become the first deaf mute to motorbike around the world. The following “conversation” was a delicate mix of sign language, pointing, and flicking through his extensive catalogues of photos and postcards. Blimey this old Russian had certainly got around a bit, not an easy task with his limitations. What an amazing chap, you can see more about his journey at his website. I got the distinct impression that this was an open ended journey that would carry on until Yarets reached the end of his own personal road, good luck to you sir.

Finally with the nativity’s visited, the timbers shivered, and the miles clocked it was time for my own more modest journey, back down south to Los Cristianos.

Some christmas traditions are still special even if your not a young boy anymore but as I am still in short trousers I can be excused for making a pilgrimage to Santa Cruz to see the nativity scenes or belens as they are called here in Tenerife. First stop was Caja Canarias HQ in Plaza del Patriotismo, in the hallway outside  there were large displays from a childrens christmas card contest and proud parents were taking photos of their offsprings work.

They basically use the same models and scenery for this display but change the layout each year, this time it was one long display of rolling hills and little farming hamlets. Several of the fiqures move, chopping wood or lifting hay and even the little ponds have live fish in them. The room lighting dims and rises again constantly to give night scenes when fires and lights shine through from inside the houses. Two staff members were on hand to make sure that no eager hands made a grab like a scene from Land Of The Giants, fancy being a bouncer on a nativity show.

The whole of the capital city is in christmas mode, the ice rink is back but moved from Plaza de España to Plaza Europa much to the annoyance of some shop keepers. It’s real ice, not this plastic stuff, and proved very popular last year. I wandered by during the afternoon break and could just manage a peak through the window, despite being a long term hockey fan I’m as graceful on the ice as an elephant on marbles so they wont have missed me out there. It’s here until 8 January and opens from 10.30 to 2 pm, and 4.30 to 11 pm, just 5 euros an hour (4 euros for 12′s and under) including skate hire.

Back to the nativity hunt, this time at the Cabildo building, their theme this year was cave dwelling and the models were suitably impressive. The stable scene is the final one in a fairly compact show, if you look up the stairs you can also catch a glimpse of the impressive stained glass in the Tenerife governments home. All these belens are free to see, the Cabildo always have a voluntary donation box for a local charity, this year it’s Caritas who do fine work helping the homeless and needy.Out at Plaza Candelaria the nativity stable looked wonderful with Joseph, Mary, and the animals, sadly no baby Jesus in the crib as he got stolen last year.

The shopping streets had to be explored as well, all the traders are trying to boost trade at a difficult time so the least I could do was to see what they were up to. Calle Teobaldo Power were going for a green christmas with a tree decorating day and a green carpet, all part of a Binter Airlines sponsorship. My favourite though was Calle Jesus Nazareno, my eye was caught by their candy striped extensions to the bollards, I even caught the Candyman himself painting his way up the street. What a simple but effective idea, the traders from the surrounding cafes and beauty parlour all came out to appreciate his magnificent handiwork.

I knew there was another belen I should have found, it was the Canarian Parliament building in Calle del Castillo, the main shopping street. The outside may now look like a modern tea room but scan upward and the faded lime green roof is a dead giveaway. This was another long parade of festive inspired village scenes but looking just behind them I could see Canarian landmarks like the basalt cliffs of Vallehermoso in La Gomera. Inspired by the Catalan tradition of El Caganer, the poohing peasant, there was a figure caught in the crevice of a rock with his trousers down answering the call of nature, good job it wasn’t aromavision.

It has to be said it was fairly quiet in Santa Cruz, what with the lack of money and the regular promotions to prise wallets open again, but at least I went home with a warm glow in my heart. Christmas eh – don’t you just love it.

If I was paid a large sum of money I would wear pink flippers and a silly hat but it seems that footballers are harder to please. It was a nice surprise to get an invite to go and see Everton train at Tenerife Top Training in La Caleta and even the request to avoid close ups of their feet didn’t phase me, it seems they didn’t all have the boots they are paid to wear. Assistant coach Steve Round was good enough to give me a quick interview after training, a good mornings work I thought.

The clubs communication manager phoned me to find out more about where the article was going, apparently the winter break was supposed to be “under the radar” . Strange that within a few hours of ariving on Sunday night at their west coast hotel the players were out and about in Playa de Las Americas chilling and having fun. It was a bit of a surprise to get an email from T3 a few days later demanding I pull the photos from my Tenerife Magazine article, not because of dodgy boots but their bright yellow training bibs with a sports company’s name across the front,  it appears it was another non sponsor.

Thankfully there were smoother waters the next day for my trip to La Gomera and bright and early I was on the Fred Olsen Express with a looped tape of Barry White playing over the tannoy. Pushing through the water with the Love Walrus crooning away the sun was hot and the sea calm and in 40 minutes I was off the ship in San Sebastian and into the marina next door to meet the crew of Row For Freedom, one of 17 teams in the Talisker Whiskey Atlantic Challenge. Only four of the six female crew were there to greet me (the others arrived later) but they were even more lovely than in the publicity shots, I managed a quick interview before touring the marina to hear some of the amazing tales of determination and courage from the other rowers.

It’s a good four years since I set foot on La Gomera but it all came back to me quickly and I was able to scamper up to the mirador off the main plaza to get some panoramic views for photos and a short video of the trip. Back in the plaza I enjoyed a snack and a drink as I basked in the sunshine. Huge German  cruise liner Mein Scheiff was in port and its passengers swarmed around the town, they even had cycle hire on board so a squad of about 30 bikers on identical bikes with matching helmets were sweeping around the square.

Going back past the repairs and stocking up at the marina and through the tunnel I emerged on Playa de la Cueva and looked out across the sea to a crystal clear Tenerife, a truly inspiring sight. A tall rock stack with steps hewn into the rock made a great vantage point to enjoy even better views, maybe Christopher Columbus had stood on the top prior to sailing for America. Back in the marina I met the other two equally lovely ladies from Row For Freedom as they all posed in new t-shirts. The rowers were a joy to talk to, so unassuming and all with great tales to tell, their enthusiasm at being cramped into small rowing boats for around two months on the way to Barbados was as bright as the baking sunshine.

Having crammed my notebook and camera it was time to get the 5.30pm last ferry back to Tenerife, it pulled out of port as a pair of rowers trained out at sea and the sunset that followed was just another reward in a day of highlights. Good luck to all the rowers for the off on Sunday 4 December, in the words of my on board friend Barry White “Your my First, My Last, My Everything”.

Either there were 180,000 zombies, a mass outbreak of insomnia, or it was Noche En Blanco in La Laguna. This was the third White Night held in the centre of the Tenerife university town just north of Santa Cruz. Basically the white is the lights that attract people like moths to a very exciting flame until 3am, shops, restaurants, museums, galleries, and bars were all open until the wee hours.

The 150 official activities started at 10am on Saturday with lots of family and child friendly events to ease everyone into the action. Heading up via Santa Cruz and then the tram I missed the morning and such delights as the theatrical hairdresser, a canine stylist, and the chocolate fountain (could have been messy) all in the pedestrianised historic centre of town.

Rounding the corner from the tram stop I was nearly garrotted by an aerial runway set up next to a climbing wall that a small child was trying to scale with help and a harness. From then on it just got more bizarre, I went into the Casa de Los Capitanes to pick up a guide booklet, they had a half size copy of Picasso’s Guernica on display – made out of 40,534 pesatas of different nominations. It took five years for the Puerto de la Cruz artist to polish, varnish, and mount his money – not the bloke you want at the post office counter in front of you.

Moving on the streets were already awash with people, as well as the official attractions lots of street performers had set up – everything from living statues to jugglers, face painters, balloon modellers and food stalls sold chestnuts, hot dogs and burgers, even the scouts were knocking out arepas. Many shops had spilled out into the street and were doing fashion displays and make overs – I might have been a challenge too far. Every now and then the crowds would part as young basketball players dribbled down the street, unicyclists wobbled along, or small carriages bounced over the cobbles.

My plans were fluid but I did want to do the tour of the Teatro Leal, the grand theatre built in 1915 and restored to former glories three years ago so I joined a group of 20 on the 5pm trip. A very flamboyant actor from the Burku Theatre group led us inside where the banked four tiers of plush red seating swirled around us as our leader ran through the history. Then leading us onto the stage we took in the full majesty that greets the actors, at a subtle signal to the wings, the front few rows of seats sank below ground level to reveal a small orchestra pit. If I had fallen I could have said it was just a stage I was going through.

Taking the back stage stairs we stopped off to see the compact dressing rooms with rows of individual make up desks and mirrors. Then it was out onto the third tier for a panoramic view of the sea of sets below, one young man went outside looking a bit peeky, vertigo his friend told us. I thought what a wimp, but then we went up to the top tier where the seats were higher than the balcony just in front of them and I kept a firm grip on the arm rests.

Our host was again in full theatrical flow when a lady dressed in finest historical evening wear wandered out on the balcony and introduced herself as the muse of comedy and delivered a little dance and a snatch of Shakespeare. Suddenly on the other side of the chamber another similarly dressed lady appeared holding a dagger and bemoaning her lot in life, this was the muse of tragedy. The two figures exchanged banter as they drifted together and departed, out tragic friend reconciled with stories of her great past performances. It was smashing stuff but one more treat awaited us, a trip up onto the roof to view the dusk of La Laguna as the sound of happy voices wafted up from the street.

Outside it was dark now but the Christmas lights and window displays ensured a magical setting for the next phase. A fire eater breathed a hot trail into the air and a belly dancer gyrated in a doorway, chestnuts glowed and daytime coffees were replaced with beer and wine. Music filled the air and performers seemed recharged as more people poured into the city centre. I enjoyed a few more musical interludes at different stages in the many plazas before heading back down south. The party was destined to run for a few more hours yet, it was a brilliant initiative, full praise to all those who put in so much effort.

I don’t want to get all Prince Charles with you but I do appreciate a striking well designed building and a bit of street art and here in Tenerife we are blessed with some great examples. Taking a different route into Adeje town I got off in the Las Torres area to feast my eyes on the bright modern buildings that have sprung up in recent years. The police station makes a very arresting sight, it could be quite boxy and boring but the different shades of stone work and the landscaped rock and cactus garden make all the difference. mind you i’m still not in a hurry to see the design of the cells.

Driving into Adeje off the Armeñime roundabout heads always turn to see the rainbow design on the large concrete building, the bust of Beethoven is a big clue to it’s use. The Escuela de Musica or Adeje School Of Music looks fantastic and must be a real inspiration to young musicians going in to study. It opened in September 2010 but I think the great composer’s statue used to be outside the old school over the other side of Adeje but this is probably Beethovens last movement.

Heading up the road into the heart of Adeje there is the stark minimalist block that is the Iglesia San Jose de Los Olivos, it seemed to take years to finish this church and it was fenced off for a long time. I’ve grown to like it in recent years, it makes a bold statement and a look around the sides reveals traditional if small stained glass windows. The crowning glory of Adeje town must be the wall murals, a wonderful tribute to the traditions and culture of the past, and painted on the side of living buildings where families are now living.

The biggest murals are in the Piedra Redonda childrens playground in the centre of  Adeje, the main one of the crafts people were designed by Conrado Diaz Ruiz and completed over the first three months of 2011. The artwork looks very similar on the other unsigned works but whoever produced these artisitic wonders has my awe and admiration. Piedra Redonda (the round mill stone) has its own pride of place and for another mix of ancient and modern the revamped Plaza de España at the top end of town takes some beating. It all makes for an uplifting mix and keeps luring me back to one of my favourite towns in the south.

Blimey where did that come from, the forecast was decent for today so after letting a small storm pass over I hit Las Vistas beach as the sun peaked from around an average sized black cloud. A few big plops of rain didn’t disturb me or several other swimmers enjoying the calm green flag sea at Los Cristianos. Suddenly a wall of water began to pelt down, no thunder, no lightning, just huge spots covering the sea surface with large crescent splashes dancing a frantic jig. This was like a rallying cry to a good sprinkling of youngsters who charged down the sand to wallow in the mix of sea and rain, although it was difficult to see where one ended and the other began.

The sea was still calm but my vision was suddenly reduced like someone had drawn a frosted shower curtain around me. It was quite exhilerating, to one side I could see people scampering for shelter at the back of the beach, towels and trainers left to sink or swim, and to the other I could just see a few murky shapes out to sea, was that a ship or Noahs Ark? Finishing my swim I pitched up on the beach and grabbed my plastic bag, which had protected most of my belongings, and sprinted with all the dignity I could muster to find cover at the rear of the sand. The disabled changing hut was open and crammed so I joined them as others sheltered below the overhanging lifeguard station watching a river pour down the steps from the promenade.

By now the sun had joined the party and was sending it’s watery rays down to make the scene even more bizarre. I took advantage of a slight lull and walked along the promenade which was flowing well, manhole covers had popped like corks revealing a frothing  muddy jacuzzi that wasn’t tempting anyone, it ponged a bit as well, and shops were already sweeping back the tide. I sheltered at The Breeze Inn and finished dressing, I didn’t fancy wading through the yucky water. A few phone calls confirmed that this was a very localised storm, it hadn’t touched Fañabe and certainly not Los Gigantes on the west coast. Wet feet once again in my trainers I began to head through the tunnel, more like a sheep dip, to the old beach, the sand there was nearly covered in one big puddle but at least the seagulls were happy at the rich pickings.

Hovering over Guaza Mountain was another dark brooding cloud heading in so I stepped up the pace and made the Valdes Centre just in time for the next batch of rain. This was a pale imitation of the earlier downpour and soon fizzled out, but not before leaving a terrific rainbow over the roundabout fountain. I was confident that the Arona council workmen and business owners would soon see off the worst effects of the deluge so turned my mind to getting home. One end of the rainbow seemed to arch down onto my apartment balcony, I couldn’t wait to collect my pot of gold, the spell must have been broken by the time I got in because all I found was soggy socks and slippers. Never mind.

Even in Tenerife a little rain must fall now and then, that’s how I came to be dodging spots up north on another day of story gathering for Tenerife Magazine. It had already been a busy slightly soggy day with a tram ride to La Laguna to visit the Instituto de Astrofisica de Canarias for some science, and back to Santa Cruz to fly around like a culture vulture chasing sculptures in galleries and in the street, but more of that at Tenerife Magazine.

The capital city’s port is always on my list of calls and I knew the Russian four mast sailing ship Kruzenshtern was in port for a few days and about to depart within hours for Vigo on the Spanish mainland. Luckily a mad dash brought me to its mooring spot and as it loomed over me I could see it was a hefty piece of work. I’m sure you want the technical details so here we go, it was built in Germany in 1926 and is a Russian Navy training ship or barque to be precise. Kruzenshtern is 114.4 metres (375 foot) long, 51.3 m (168 ft) high, weighs 3,141 tons and can go at 17.3 knots (32 km/h or 19.9 mph). It would have been lovely to see all the sails deployed but on this dull wet day there was little chance of that.

The gangplank was down but sealed off and manned by young recruits, I gave a hearty ahoy there and tried to blag a tour on board with a mix of Spanish and English. The answer was a firm no but one poker faced joker said if I came back tomorrow I could get a tour – it would of course be far out in the Atlantic by then and my swimming isn’t quite that good. I settled for a few quick discreet photos, not wanting to wake up in a salt mine many miles away. I wonder what the 257 crew did with their time in Santa Cruz, hopefully they managed to enjoy a few of our decadent ways.

There is nearly always a nautical surprise or two in Santa Cruz, this time it came in the form of two German war ships moored on the far side beyond the security fences. The Sachsen was partly hidden by a pleasure cruiser but the Schleswig Holstein (above)  was standing proud ready to be identified. The two ships are Brandenburg class frigates built in the early 1990′s, both 138.9 metres long capable of 29 knots and carrying 220 crew. They pack a punch with anti air and submarine weapons and exocets to see off any hostile ships. The pair had arrived from Tema in Ghana and were ready for a quick departure to Souda in Greece.For now though it was my turn for a quick departure on the good ship Titsa back to Los Cristianos – steady as she goes.

The art of enjoying a traditional Canarian romeria is to soak up the atmosphere without treading in any of the trimmings left by the parade of sturdy farm animals. There’s always so much to enjoy for all the senses at these celebrations of agriculture and the fruits of the land and Adeje packed them into the centre of the old town on a gasping hot October afternoon and evening.

Plaza del Cerco guarded at each end by statues of a Guanche and a bombero (fireman) was already buzzing when I arrived, oxon and horses were being groomed, carts were being decorated and the all important planchas and grills were already cooking bbq’s on board as the wine started to flow. Musicians were tuning up with drums, timple (small guitars) and accordians but amidst the old customs ladies checked state of the art mobiles and rallied the troops by text. The local supermarkets had never been busier with ice creams and cold drinks needed to quench thirsts as the afternoon sun beat down.

With the oxon and donkeys chomping at the bit it was time for the big parade up into Calle Grande, the dancers led the way in a blaze of colour as they slowly inched their way up the packed main street. Many people had arrived early and found good vantage points at the tables outside the bars and cafes, tapas and full meals were whizzing out of kitchens and the livestocks nostrils were twitiching as they lumbered along their route. I have been to many of the annual performances of The Passion on Good Friday but Calle Grande seemed more densley packed for this celebration.

Approaching the top of the street the scene was set around the church with timple players strumming their instruments and the saints statues taking pride of place at the top of the steps. Each cart and its followers took their turn to receive blessings as fresh fruit and vegetables were offered up as examples of the bounty of the land. Among the blessings and rousing cheers for San Sebastian and Santa Ursula there was a special warmth and empathy for the people of El Hierro as a wave of goodwill was sent towards the seismically troubled island.

As the formal procession broke up the wine and beer flowed around the church square with its magnificent setting against the backdrop of Roque del Conde. The last stragglers of the carts were taking their time negotiating the deposits on the road while dishing out cups full of wine and plates full of meat and potatoes. Dancing was breaking out in small groups as the wine worked its magic and the large stage was set for a long night ahead. Once again in Tenerife the best pleasures proved to be the natural ones.

Wasn’t like this in my day, all this was fields when I was a lad etc, etc, I’m trying not to turn into an old moaning git so I am keeping an open mind for my visit to Oxford. Yesterday I paid a visit to the old Oxford prison, these days converted into a trendy shopping and eating area, I have been before since the big conversion about 6 years ago and to be fair it does look pretty good.

I missed out on the Food & Wine Festival by a few days and a look at the brochure showed me what treats  had eluded me – there was live music from Mr Whippy and The Conettes, but by the time I got there they had melted away. I did spot an interesting sculptured multi coloured rhino hiding in the undergrowth, apparently it is part of “an ambitious project to create a trail of these rhinos around Oxford” I don’t know how the city has survived so long without these beasts.  Close to the beast and built into one of the old prison wings (on a quiet day you can hear the ghostly cries of prisoners in the showers) is the O3 Art Gallery which featured a display of Cornish landscapes and some very over priced bright snazzy wall hung paintings.

Popping out through a back entrance I found myself down by the old mill stream and the site of the old Morrells Brewery, sadly all that remains is the ornate sign over the yards gateway, the inner workings of the source of the fuel of my youth has gone. Posh apartments now look out onto the stream and its tributeries near the wonderfully named Quaking Bridge where ducks dodge floating rubbish and the odd drowning tramp. I was impressed though with the wrought iron work on the side of the car park, very cool with its bird motif. The old Brewery Gate pub is boarded up but a recent sign says under offer, maybe a ray of hope although it’s more likely to become a trendy food and drink outlet with no real ale.

Progress they call it, but let’s not be too cynical as one of my favourite pubs, Far From The Madding Crowd is itself a revamped unit in the side of a large department store and serves great real ale. As luck would have it their Autumn Ale festival is on this week, a good excuse to stop off in the evenings and sample some fine like Thames Tickler and Dark Side Of The Moose. Cheers