1237. Sat 26/2/22: The Black Horse, Luton

Beer: Tring Colley’s Dog 5.2%

Pre LT v Derby. It’s a pleasant day, it seems that spring has sprung; the football, meanwhile, acts as a merciful distraction from giant marauding bear on the continent… until I bring the war up in conversation. It seems that nobody knows what the f*ck is going on.

Me brother and CJ decide to talk Dostoevsky, thus FREEZING me out of the conversation. It’s a cultural cold war, that’s what it is.

There’s Six Nations rugby (to ignore) on the telly.

In town there are large numbers of police and, preaching in George Streets environs, quite a few Christians. Not seen any Derby fans, but I’m sure there’s a few about.

Anyway, though these are troubling times, the fine weather – company – booze and the match to go to, are all quite comforting.

1255. Sat 2/4/22: The Black Horse, Luton

Beer: Tring Colleys Dog 5.2%

Pre LT v Millwall. Pub quite full. The Wkd boys are in, looking like they’ve aged a bit.

Steph fell down the stairs at home yesterday morning, and broke both her wrists. Apologies, this shouldn’t be in a pub blog but, effin ‘eck, wasn’t a good thing… gawd bless the NHS, natch. She’s at home today, in plaster.

Beautiful bright, but cold, day. It’s nice. It’s nice, frankly to step out of the carer role I’ve taken up in the last 18 hours or so. I’ve got plenty of weeks of that to look forward to; and a new (real) job as well.

Atmosphere, pre-Millwall match, is surprisingly tension light. There’s not much tension as regards the Town’s promotion push either. If we win, all well and good. If we don’t… do we really want to go up to the Premier League? We don’t seem ready for that jump… but will we ever?

Anyway, I’m going straight back home to my ailing partner after the match – so details of the post-match imbibing down the Brickies will make up episode 1255b, by me brother.

1731a. Tue 30/1/24: The Black Horse, Luton

Beer: Oakham Inferno 4.0%

Pre Brighton. I wanted to squeeze another pub on the way, as TPK’s piling up Spanish red dots. The Student Union? No. There are actually people in there, celebrating graduation. I consider places on Market Hill, but end up at The Black Horse.

It’s busy here too, but I don’t have long to wait before there’s a seat available on the stage, tucked in behind a table of Brighton fans. Attila the Stockbroker comes by, though by the time I decide maybe to go up and introduce myself and remind him about manning the book stall at Utter!, he’s off.

AW first to appear. Collapsed Lung are on the jukebox, which is nice. AW is somewhat taken aback by my brutal haircut. I forgot, I explained, to take put the guard on the clippers. It’s the first of a number of comments, on what feels an unseasonably chilly evening.

As for the game; well, our improvement continues. I’d take a point. The Seagulls aren’t in great form, but doubtless they’ll turn up at The Kenny,

1618a. Sun 5/11/23: The Black Horse, Luton

Beer: Leighton Buzzard Restoration 4.6%

Day Whatever it is of the Prem disorientation, messed up weekend cycle. It’s Sunday, and we’re drinking in readiness for a 4.30pm kick-off. Could be a whole lot worse.

The Whitings of Todd all in and present. AW wearing his Minutemen t-shirt, which in honesty, I covet. I check on who BW thinks should be lining up for the Hatters. His choice differs from mine by only one player – he has Brown starting; I’d push Ogbene up, and bring in, err… someone else. Can’t remember who. Johnny Aston if me, his Dad and his uncle had their way, and JA was fit for a runaround. 

In a way, it feels as if it might be irrelevant who starts and who plays; we’re up against Liverpool, who will surely rip us to pieces.

1385a. Tue 4/10/22: The Black Horse, Luton

Beer: Oakham Inferno 4.0%

There’s a loud, nasty piece of work in the pub. I encounter him, first, while I’m trying to get a drink, and he’s squabbling with the barman, trying to insist to be served with a triple whisky.

It’s one of those occasions where it would be nice if there were more football fans in. Not sure I can remember too many away fans using the Horse

Next thing I know, I’ve retreated to the stage, but whisky man’s soon on the scene, haranguing the table next to me. Turns out he supports Villa. Or he would if he could get a ticket. He says Luton Town are sh*t. The table don’t rise to his bait. Nor do they agree to his imploring them to take a drink from him. 

I keep my head down, buried in my book. By the time TPK and SRW turn up, whisky man’s gone. That’ll teach me to get to evening matches too early.

He’s been inside three times, has whisky man. One of them, at least, for something he didn’t do. 

No pictures

1536. Sat 1/4/23: The Black Horse, Luton

Beer: Tring Colley’s Dog 5.2%

LT v Watford. Early kick-off. Morning pints.

Huge game, natch. I do hope we don’t lose.

I’ve gone entirely deaf in my right ear. Very odd (and very, it turned out, temporary). Have doused the offending orifice with olive oil this morning and am hoping for the best – and having to explain that I really can’t hear what you’re saying, sorry.

I catch some chat: it’s of birds and pubs and red dots (have you seen our map?), and of Watford fans forced to make the journey on Harry Potter liveried coaches… not the most dignified way to travel to the local rivals. Funny, mind.

Teams are pinged to devices. The consensus is that our team looks good. I do hope we don’t lose.

Johnny H gets wistfully nostalgic over his DJ stints back in the day, and specifically Sunday morning jazz in pubs. There is something, John suggests about the sound of jazz bass reverberating round floorboarded rooms – of sunlight streaming through windows and of the sweetly stale smell of last night’s beer. Beautiful bit of evocative prose from the Crazyfish, he’s another bona fide poet on the quiet, is John.

By 12:05pm the pub has almost cleared. It’s not a noon kick-off is it? No, the Kenny bound crowds on Telford Way put minds at ease. Hope we don’t bloody lose.

1129a. Wed 29/9/21: The Black Horse, Luton

Beer: Oakham Citra 4.2%

Pre Coventry City. The pub is full, it seems, of Coventry City fans. It isn’t, but there are a fair few in, wearing a fair array of kits; mainly a natty pink and dark blue, though there’s also a chap in a retro brown.

A brown football kit… Takes some nerve, but looks pretty good.

The beer’s a bit sweet, but that’s fine. The consensus round the pub seems to be ‘away win;’ the Cov fans seem quietly confident.

628a. Tue 29/1/19: The Black Horse, Luton

Beer: Peerless Boston Red 4.5%

Pre-match. The decision to come to The Black Horse rather than The Brickies seems a good one; we get sat down in our favoured seats.

I’m in first, and exchange a couple of words with Pete S before staking a claim to the stage area tables. The Peerless is going down very nicely. Overhead, the corrugated roof is surely making the rain, or sleet, or whatever precipitation is hurling down from the heavens sound louder than it is. When Fish Bros come in, they’re sodden. Before that, however, my efforts at buying my head in a book are a little undone by one of the locals singing Tomorrow from Annie. In his version, 

“Tomorrow, tomorrow;
I’ll love you tomorrow…”

is admirably simplified to

“Tomorrow, tomorrow;
Tomorrow, tomorrow…”

1389a. Sat 15/10/22: The Black Horse, Luton

Beer: unknown

Oops. No notes. Not written up; nor in the diary. Pictures and fixtures indicate this was a visit before the QPR game, and that we were on the stage. Looks like I had an Oakham beer of some description.

1536a. Sat 1/4/23: The Black Horse, Luton

Beer: St Austell Proper Job 4.5%

It doesn’t really feel like a football day, least of all our first ‘home-match-with-fans’ against Watford since, oh, goodness knows when. Pre coke’n’Stone Island, at any rate. The ebb and flow of the respective teams’ fortunes and a reported rise in football aggro means we’re here, painful and early, pre-noon.

The big clue in town, that there was more going on than just the usual Saturday morning, were the yawning hordes of police, many of whom were positioned on Bute Street, from the station to the Guildford St junction. Nice overtime, if you can get it.

I thought this was a 12 ko, but no; 12.30. I have time for another pint. Joy. Actually, it tastes ok. I ask the gang whether, if eating a Don Millers sub, up Wellington Street, they would stop to eat it outside the sex shop, or push on, into the underpass. ‘I would eat on the hoof’ is universally dismissed, with answers varied between either ‘outside’ or ‘in the sex shop.’

I feel queasy, imagining the latter.

We have a giggle at social media. Watford fans have all been marched to their grubby ground to be handed tickets and corralled onto buses, prominent among which are double deckers promoting Harry Potter. Hilarious, though not really football.