The pub was also the scene that night of an alleged man down incident by our mate Gray an accusation which he vehemently denies to this day.
We didn't intend to deliberately return to the pub we just stumbled (no offence Gray) upon it down a side street near the town centre..
We both remembered the pub to be bigger than it was when we arrived, like most of the pubs in Stratford's town centre it has retained a lot of its original features with oak beams being a particularly impressive highlight of the place.
The bar was small but well stocked with us going down the well trodden path of a pint of Purity UBU for my good self and a half of Stowford Press for my good lady.
The sport being shown on the pub's large screen was much less impressive than during our last visit, a fairly uninspiring North London derby between Arsenal and Spurs. The noise when Spurs took the lead was like a pin dropping compared to our roars of encouragement on that magical night two years ago as Mo went round the final bend.
As the name suggests people stop at The Falcon Hotel and one such bunch came quietly down the stairs during our stay, a small hen party. I have never witnessed such a civilised pre wedding celebration, no suggestive tee shirts, no sex toys, no inflatables, nothing, just a simple tasteful sash to indicative who the blushing bride to be was. I can only assume that they weren't on their way to Birmingham's infamous den of iniquity, and frequent host of such celebrations, The Tower Ballroom.
We drank up and went the short distance (about the length of Greg Rutherford's long jump) to the next pub The Garrick Inn...
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