"On the Wagon and Off to Tyburn: A Boozy Tale from History"

Well, cheers to being back!

I’ve just emerged from nearly three weeks in hospital—a less-than-ideal mini-break, but one that gave me time to think (and, thanks to hospital TV, watch a lot of ads). That’s my excuse for the recent radio silence on the blog, and I hope this quick post makes up for it with a bit of historical flavour—and a twist of Dry July.

Now, if you’ve been anywhere near a screen lately, you’ll have seen the ads too. Dry July is upon us: that noble time of year when many brave souls pledge to forego all things alcoholic for a full 31 days, raising money for a good cause in the process. No wine. No beer. No cheeky negroni at 6 p.m. Just… water.

Which took me back to a rather vivid memory.

Picture it: I was on one of those charming open-top red buses, cruising along Oxford Street in London. Blue skies, wind in my hair, tourists all around me clicking away at department stores and street performers. And then—our tour guide casually points out something truly chilling. Apparently, this very road was once the last ride for condemned prisoners en route to the Tyburn Gallows, located right where today’s Bayswater Road and Edgware Road meet, near Marble Arch.

Back then, it was a one-way trip—prisoners rattling in a horse-drawn cart, watched by jeering crowds ready for a spectacle that was part punishment, part entertainment. But here’s where it gets intriguing: along that grim journey stood a pub. A final stop. A tradition. The condemned were offered one last drink—a final moment of warmth, humanity, and strong liquor before facing the noose.

Some accepted, stepping down from the cart for a stiff one. Others refused, choosing instead to go straight to their fate. Those who refused, the guide told us, were said to have stayed “on the wagon.”

Yes—that wagon.

So if you’re partaking in Dry July and resisting temptation, take heart. You’re channeling the iron will of 17th-century prisoners facing something far worse than FOMO.

And as for those who did accept that final tipple? That drink became known, quite poetically, as “one for the road.”

So next time someone says they’re on the wagon—or just having one for the road—you’ll know they’re echoing a history soaked in both sorrow and spirit.

Here’s to words with stories, and drinks with meanings.