The first thing we noticed when we got off the tram was that the rain had now become a downpour. We therefore resolved to find a pub as soon as possible, particularly since the schedule of the crawl was now in serious jeopardy.

As we left the tram stop and walked north, we were slightly disappointed to find that we were still on Morden Road – with hindsight, looking at a map, it’s clear that we could have walked the distance from the Surrey Arms in about ten minutes, instead of spending nearly an hour faffing around waiting for a tram in the driving rain. Still, that’s what separates us from your average drinkers: commitment and dedication – or rank stupidity.

Even though it wasn’t really that far to our pub of choice, we still managed to get completely soaked; but that didn’t stop us posing for a photograph to record our elation at finally being able to get a drink. Alex had special cause for celebration since he had obviously just entered – and won – the “World’s Wettest Person” competition. I think he could have been more sportsmanlike about it, though.

It’s raining, men (Hallelujah)

Now, if you were concentrating, and if your eyesight is better than my scanner, you might have noticed that the pub sign shows a picture of an “English rose”. Combine that with the name of the pub, and alarm bells start to ring. This pub used to be called – and I’m genuinely not making this up – the Prince of Wales. But in 1997 the owners changed its name to the Princess of Wales as a mark of respect to the late “people’s princess”. A touching tribute, or a crass cash-in? You decide.

Whatever, we were just glad that it was open. I remember this as being a fairly quiet, average pub, but clearly Ian and Alex had very different opinions:

Tim and Alan had now – dangerously, perhaps – reverted to the cider (Blackthorn in this case), while Ian, Simon, Alex and I went for the Young’s bitter. Curiously, Pad had a Guinness. Even more mystifying is the fact that I recorded an additional choice for Alex after he finished his pint: it appears that he had a “Wild Turkey on ice” – but I’m not sure if that was a drink or some sort of elaborate culinary offering which he managed to talk the barman into serving.

Whilst tucking into our beers, we came across a leaflet extolling the virtues of the various “attractions” which could be visited using Tramlink. Sadly this information was not much use to us after we’d been drinking all day; but no doubt if you were to spend the day doing something other than getting the beers in, it would be very useful. Certainly, Tim seemed to find it particularly fascinating.

Don’t Bogart that leaflet

Having slipped behind due to the tram delays, we were keen to get going – despite the rain – and it appears that our journey consisted of a random route through some side-streets to a pub which could tenuously count as being near to the Merton Park stop. (Even though we had now abandoned the tram as a viable form of transport, we felt compelled to vaguely stick to the original pretext for the day’s drinking.)