EOTL04: Crazy Horse to the Man on the Moon

[David Wright]

‘Due to a volcanic dust cloud hanging over the United Kingdom, services from all London airports are severely disrupted.’

Despite the deadpan delivery of a weary TFL employee, the announcement in Waterloo Station left me with a feeling of unease. I hoped that this apocalyptic inconvenience would not affect the planned expedition to Stanmore, northernmost point of the Jubilee line. In fact a most pleasant journey lay ahead of me. I boarded the tube train at 7.05pm and was soon enjoying lovely views of northwest London, thanks to a fine spring evening and the largely overground route. Trellick Tower to my west looked magnificent against the backdrop of a setting sun, and not a volcanic dust cloud in sight. Through Dollis Hill station with elegant, modernist waiting rooms and trundling on past the marvellous 1930s Neasden tube depot. On into deepest suburbia, finally arriving in Stanmore at 7.50pm, underestimating my journey time by the traditional half hour.

Stanmore station itself, opened in 1932, embraces the post-WW1 suburban aesthetic. Complete with pitched roof, it blends in to Metroland perfectly. As I exited the station, passing a generous helping of TFL-commissioned artworks, I was particularly struck by a poster of typographic purity. ‘The Answer Lies at the End of the Line’. Relieved that our project was no pointless undertaking after all I strode off down Stanmore Hill filled with a renewed sense of curiosity and expectation.

On arrival at our agreed meeting point, the Crazy Horse pub, my spirits were immediately dampened. I had been transported back in time to an early 80s school disco. Underage clientele and bar staff alike seemed confused by my presence. Magic FM’s video channel on the big screen looked edgy in the context of the interior decor’s apparent homage to all things bland. An outsized pink neon sign helpfully informed me I was not in a pub, but rather a BAR.

Dave, demonstrating an even greater respect to our fine tradition of tardiness, arrived 10 minutes later. After a swifter than swift pint in the roadside beer garden, having enjoyed the soundtrack of ambient traffic drone, we moved on. We chanced upon the Sahara Lounge, an out of place Middle-Eastern cafe/restaurant crammed full of hookah-puffing locals.

A charming doorman asked if we would be dining there. When told it would just be drinks, he informed us that wouldn’t be a problem so long as it wasn’t alcohol we were after. We declined politely .

Even if we weren’t going to fully experience Stanmore’s expression of cultural diversity, Dave was keen to record the moment on his i-Phone camera. Positioned at a safe distance on the other side of the street, he surreptitiously removed the device from his pocket and prepared for the shot. The doorman appeared from the low-lit entrance. ‘What are you taking pictures of, sir?’ Dave gave a brief outline of our reasons for visiting Stanmore and explained the need to record our visit. ‘Ah, very good, sir. ...perhaps you would like to come in and talk to the manager.... he may want you to take pictures of the interior’.

Dave again politely declined.

We reluctantly accepted that our only option was to settle for the Wetherspoon’s just across the road. Even stuffed full of red and white balloons in anticipation of St George's Day celebrations, The Man on The Moon felt like a monument to cultural sophistication in comparison to the Crazy Horse.

And it served the superb St Peter’s Old Style Porter at £1.89 a pint. The Answer was a smooth, dark sensual delight and did indeed lie at the End of the Line.