Heather & Thor’s Weblog

Location: London, England
Place: The Albert pub
Date: April 13, 2008

An hour after crossing the finish line of the London Marathon, just after I met up with Heather and had time to change, the chilly rain returned. Since we knew The Albert, a pub in London, wasn’t far, we decided to head over there for a post-marathon celebration.

A half hour later we were all comfy at one of the foursome tables right in front of the circular table where we had met a friend only days earlier. This time was no different as we each had a token Fullers London Pride in our hands.

We mixed, we mingled, and we met a bunch of other folks in town for the marathon but still awaiting their finishers.

Before long, two Chelsea Pensioners walked in and headed straight for the table where Heather and I sat.

The younger chap pictured on the right asked, “Might we join you?” Of course. Before long, we were swapping stories, rubbing elbows, and even trading jabs. But these guys liked to talk about their past. And who can blame them.

Tommy, the red coat on the right, all of 83 years young served in WWII in the British Army. He was held prisoner of war in Poland for 4 years. The stories were intense. He showed me a few tattoos the guys held captive all gave to each other as they wondered if they would ever be set free or left to rot or, worse, be shot.

Knobby, the red coat on the left, a ripe 87, was in the British Airforce and got to meet many of the higher-ups in the British army and airforce and even in Parliment.

You should have these guys in action. Knobby had a endless card and coin tricks stuffed in his pockets. He loved the ladies but was a man of few words. He pulled off no fewer than 10 card tricks and at least 3 of the coin variety in our 2-plus hours with them. You should have seen him light up like a Christmas tree when I teased him by saying, “I know your type… you’re a charmer… I bet the ladies like you.”

By this point I was taken for a fool’s boy and had already bought them a round of drinks. I was assured by the bar keep that it was okay. “They’re regulars,” he told me while holding back laughter. “They could probably drink all of you under the table.”

Tommy was much a talker and told stories about Sir Winston Churchill, which was really cool because he nailed down some of the stuff you had mentioned to us.

The beautiful thing was that here we were in London, a place rich with deep history, and we were not only hearing about it but we were also seeing it, taking to it, and sharing a drink with it.

Priceless. And now we have a picture to remember it from.