Mitcham (not to be confused with Mitcham Junction) is one of those rare things: a stop on Tramlink which is not on a golf course or an industrial estate. Indeed, it was comparatively lively, and we were pleased to find that the Crown Inn was situated right next to the station.

But before we could launch into the next round of drinks, we had to eat, as we’d suddenly realised that we were the hungriest people in the world. Luckily for us there was a mini-mart/off-licence kind of thing just past the pub, so we went in to locate sustenance. After much searching, I recall that Alex, Simon and Pad managed to find some passable sandwiches, but for the vegetarians among us the awful truth became clear: we would have to eat cheese and onion pies. (For details of the culinary make-up of the pies, see the statistics page.) Of course, the feast wouldn’t be complete without a team photo.

Mitcham Food & Wine (& Pie)

Having eaten all the pies, we also tried to take a picture outside the pub, but all that came out was an orange light and the side of an unidentified thumb. Inside, however, was a fairly acceptable pub which I remember as being very dark brown. It had a fruit machine – “Pac Man Plus” – which Pad and I took on, only to find that it was about as much fun as dropping some pound coins down a kerb-side grating. There was also a kind of conservatory-style area at the back of the pub, but that’s not much use at 5.30 on a cold and dark November evening.

As we decided what to drink, we realised that you can’t have too many forfeits, so the next one was selected.

This was perhaps the easiest, and some might say least imaginative, of all the forfeits: all we had to do was get a round of rum in. Still, it seemed like a perfectly reasonable tribute to Hitchcock’s Jamaica Inn, particularly since the Crown Inn stocked some rather strong varieties. I can’t remember exactly what sort of rum we drank, but I fear it may have been Woods 100.

We were happily sipping our spirits, when we were amazed to see Ian walk in the door. Having missed only six out of the twelve planned pubs, he was raring to get stuck into some drinks. His bright-eyed (and probably bushy-tailed) eagerness is in stark contrast to Simon’s rather drowsy appearance – the appearance of a man who has just lost a game of “Drink While You Think”, got on a tram, eaten a sub-standard sandwich, and drunk a glass of rum:

Ian gets a rum deal

Alex, on the other hand, was now going at full throttle, and actually chose to have a second drink. Naturally, he tried to get a beer, but the rest of us pointed out that he was drinking in Jamaica Inn, and so a second rum it was.

After judging the pub to be a bit mediocre –

– we went back to Mitcham tram stop to find that the delays to the service had got substantially worse. In theory, trams run every 12 minutes during the day, and after 6 pm it’s supposedly every half hour. This in itself is a bit lame for a Saturday night (in London’s vibrant Mitcham Common), but coupled with the unexplained delays it revealed the utter pointlessness of the whole Tramlink concept. Basically, it seems that unless a tram actually arrives within one minute of waiting at a stop, it’s always quicker to walk. Unless, of course, you happen to have a full set of golf clubs and no caddy to hand... Or if you happen not to be on a pub crawl and want to travel more than one stop.

Still, after a prolonged and irritated wait, we eventually arrived at Belgrave Walk, thirsting furiously.