Arsenal-Newcastle, Mozart, the trip and catering report

By Marcel Bogaerts.

Marcel is the (excellent) treasurer of the Arsenal Belgium supporters club from our co-writer Walter Broeckx. He has been an Arsenal supporter since many many years and is the oldest (board)member of the supporters club. A supporters club that since Walter and the new board took over has prospered like never before and since last week has reached the milestone of 100 paying members. More than the double than we have ever had before.

Last Saturday after the game I was asked to do the catering report for Untold. Obviously I am flattered, and it’s with pleasure that tonight I am trying to produce a nice story for you, in decent English. I do apologize for any mistakes that I most certainly will write, and I hope that none of you will hold that against this Gooner from Belgium.

Arsenal fans from Belgium have different options when going to the Emirates. If those of us from Arsenal Belgium, apply for tickets and we get what we aske for, we organize a group trip by Eurostar, by bus or by private cars. Not so for Arsenal-Newcastle, this was my own initiative, together with my son Oliver and my friend Stan.

Our trip started on Friday evening. Nobody was getting on a bus for at least 8 hours with an empty stomach, so we decided to meet in a pub in Antwerp, called “Kelly’s Irish Pub”. Stan’s wife had fed him properly, so he was not hungry. Oliver ordered fish and chips and I went for a bacon and cheese burger with real Belgian chips. A pint of Guinness for each completed the meal.

The Eurolines bus departed on time, 9pm Belgian time. Stops on the way to Calais were Brussels and Lille, and it was Saturday before the driver parked his bus on the P&O ferry. In the large bar we ordered another pint of Guinness. Until then I had slept on the bus, but not for long uninterrupted periods.

That changed quickly once we were on English soil. When I woke up the bus drove by the Elephant & Castle Underground station. We had arrived in London. At 5.05  Saturday morning the bus reached Victoria Coach Station.

The shopping centre at Victoria Rail Station unfortunately does not open before 6 AM. We decided to walk and find our hotel. The Romanos Hotel is a small bed & breakfast venue in Charlwood Street, and within 15 minutes we found it. Naturally, the place was closed, there was no night reception and we could not get in. Well, at least the walk did us good and we went back to Victoria Station to find the shopping centre open. Although Sainsbury’s supermarket showed some promising “hot breakfast” message outside, there was nothing of the kind. It was a supermarket, nothing more. Other eateries also advertised with promising breakfast messages, but opening hours were 7.30 at the earliest.

Only McDonalds was open at this time of the morning. There was a cue of hungry people, but service was quick and we bought a coffee, a bun with meat and egg and a slice of roast potato. Nothing special, but it was breakfast and we needed it.

My hotel voucher indicated that check-in was only at 1pm. Our backpacks were not heavy and around 7.30 AM we topped up our Oyster Cards and used the Underground to reach Notting Hill Gate station. On Portobello Road there was already activity, and we spent some 1,5 hrs there. I like Portobello Road market and its atmosphere. Oliver bought a nice souvenir for his girlfriend, the sun broke through the morning grey, it became a fresh and bright morning and it was not a problem that we could not yet go back to the hotel and check in.

I suggested to go to Covent Garden. I have something against waiting at the elevator in Covent Garden Underground station. The alternative is the tiresome hike up to the countless, steep, winding stairs, so we got off at Holborn instead and walked for ten minutes. The first thing we saw and heard in Covent Garden was a lady singer, performing “Voi Che Sapete”, the lovely aria from Cherubino in Mozart’s “Nozze di Figaro”. Besides football, I also love opera and Mozart, so the day became better and better for me. I don’t know about Stan and Oliver though.

A street artist performing some magic was the second act we could attend. That was nothing special, but we remembered passing a Starbucks a while ago and decided it was the perfect time for a coffee.

It was about 11.45 am. I thought that the hotel would not mind us checking in a bit early. It was a five minutes walk from Pimlico station. We had booked a family room for three. It was clean, but even three midgets would judge the room to be utterly small. Let alone the shower and toilet, with a surface of not even 2 square metres. Which made Oliver say that a young couple, that likes to shower together, would not be able to do that there. Did he miss his girlfriend?

Anyway, it was time to show our Arsenal colours. We walked back to the underground station but noticed a pub called The Cask Pub and Kitchen. In fact I had my mind set on the Piebury Corner, but we could not just let The Cask unchecked and went in. A pub with about 25 beer taps is something that even in Belgium is rarely found, so we had to check the beer menu and decided to try the Highlander Ale. It was a tasty, light, slightly bitter ale and we soon agreed on the idea that a well cooked burger would be exactly the right thing to accompany our drink. We got a glazy bun with a perfectly grilled hamburger, bacon and cheese and a good serving of chips. The chips were larger than the real Belgian fries, and, as Michel Roux would say (yes, we in Belgium also watch Masterchef), they were ever so slightly overcooked. Nevertheless, an acceptable meal in a pleasant environment, served in a friendly way.

This is a trip and catering report, and I will not talk about the game, Arsène Wenger and his team and mister Mason. Enough has been said about this. Let me just add that we were as delighted as everyone else with the victory, and we were more than ready for our evening meal.

Some weeks ago I had talked to Andrew Crawshaw of Untold, asking him whether he knew a good Indian restaurant near the Emirates. I love Indian food,, but Belgium is not the place for it. We have a few Indian restaurants, but they tend to be rather expensive and the food they serve is often not up to the level of their after dinner bill.

Andrew was more than willing to help us, and I had asked him to join us as our guest. His suggestion was to go the Indian Ocean Tandoori, Holloway Road. He had booked a table for us and we had agreed to meet him after the game, in front of The Armoury. Finding Andrew, with his leather cowboy hat, is not a difficult task. It was about 15 minutes walk to the restaurant. The place was full with diners, of which quite a lot of happy Gooners.

We were seated in a nice boot and soon we had our drinks. They did not serve alcohol free lager, so Andrew went for a lemonade. No beer from the tap there, but the bottled Cobra lager was light and fresh and it went well with the pappadums we ordered for starter. Our main course was Andrew’s suggestion. It was a biryani, I have forgotten the name, but if you go to the restaurant it’s number 1 on the biryani list. We got a lot of food, a very richly with rice and meat filled plate, a good vegetable curry next to it and some delicious nan bread to make the dinner really complete.

Around 9.30pm three well-fed, happy and tired Belgian Gooners called it a day. We took the underground in Holloway station, not without saying goodbye to Andrew of course. Thank you very much Andrew and see you again soon at the Emirates!

A good night sleep then was followed by a simple continental breakfast. We bought some lunch in Sainsbury’s and boarded the bus at Sunday morning 10 AM. This time the bus crossed the channel on board of “Le Shuttle” and we arrived back in Antwerp at 7 AM local time.

Once again another great Arsenal experience and it tastes for more, much more!

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