I finished my race and downed some fruit and juice then ran back against the flow of finishers to the Cavalier, a neighbourhood pub I knew of roughly a half mile away. The sun broke through but I was still drenched from the day’s downpours and, since the pub was still closed for a few more minutes, I decided to use the picnic tables out front as a changing room.
Some dry, warm clothing really helped with the low core temperature but what I really needed to fend off hypothermia was something nutritious, like a Corvus Stout. My cold fingers were still sore and shriveled from the damp and I felt human again shortly after the first sip.
This is not the most attractive pub on the outside but inside there are large nooks and lot’s of dark, wooden features. It is truly lovely, inside, and popular…by the time my pint sat before me there were ten other punters lined up and a couple more had stopped for a cigarette before coming in.
On the way out I noticed a little English Civil War joke related to the pub and its location, too. The Cavalier sits on the corner of Cromwell Road.