tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-41861671512806878682024-02-22T10:37:57.136+00:00The Bar BiographerThis is a celebration of bars and the drinking experience. Telling the life and times of pubs, bars, hotels, clubs,restaurants and any other establishments that purvey liquor in Glasgow and beyond. Free from any traditional review structures, here you will find a unique, independent collection of articles, essays, updates, anecdotes and observations from the imbiber’s point of view.The Pledgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07695094890563847119noreply@blogger.comBlogger122125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4186167151280687868.post-276301165821949932024-01-07T19:52:00.004+00:002024-01-07T19:52:40.673+00:00My Best of 2023<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw0n07yUaUGOieW5FImF6xNSZNXnHIdhWHirmXIxBIwNlR9A61YYfQGvftWDx15V4EnplM0_x3VpCzp3dgUkkWc5CChmkk6Q-6ondR832u-tf1DGXD18WWarpC2o1lNphnY2l4XSlHDEag_UNdXF2WkJSRGJ3Gd10nL9OKsqGddZMF3M4EfjJuEyviqEdq/s4608/20230310_160448.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw0n07yUaUGOieW5FImF6xNSZNXnHIdhWHirmXIxBIwNlR9A61YYfQGvftWDx15V4EnplM0_x3VpCzp3dgUkkWc5CChmkk6Q-6ondR832u-tf1DGXD18WWarpC2o1lNphnY2l4XSlHDEag_UNdXF2WkJSRGJ3Gd10nL9OKsqGddZMF3M4EfjJuEyviqEdq/s320/20230310_160448.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /> I haven't written much cheerful content (or much at all) for a while, and there will I'm sure be plenty of unhappy events to comment upon in 2024, so as is customary this time of the year, reflection upon the previous 12 months can be allowed to include happy times spent in pubs/bars and any other licensed premises. <p></p><p>So, here's a short list of the most memorable joints I enjoyed in 2023 for the first time. </p><p><br /></p><p><b>HISTORICAL GEM - <i>THE BRITONS PROTECTION</i>, Manchester</b></p><p><b><br /></b></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjramGn9T5w2062_ODtaGX8DNIrSlnL4w2CjY-q_qqQevIo_K-QixjVMxdpp7LlcdzFJbjVvIEd1qP_OeevExEHet2z6lyFXNQF0TKRHOXoGhRocsAy_ZkDBFk3LGqhXbt0pUVjfAklUdtU1ZlIwTwU2wsZh4AJVfxryRR5M7BKzwpfT_CBkL1IqMkPcE1Q/s4608/20230310_161219.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjramGn9T5w2062_ODtaGX8DNIrSlnL4w2CjY-q_qqQevIo_K-QixjVMxdpp7LlcdzFJbjVvIEd1qP_OeevExEHet2z6lyFXNQF0TKRHOXoGhRocsAy_ZkDBFk3LGqhXbt0pUVjfAklUdtU1ZlIwTwU2wsZh4AJVfxryRR5M7BKzwpfT_CBkL1IqMkPcE1Q/s320/20230310_161219.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><b><br /></b><p></p><p><span> Rightfully regarded as a must-visit for any self-respecting pub afficionado. On my first visit to Manchester since my stag weekend 15 years ago, it was first on the list and from the broad front bar to the corridors and rooms behind, it does not disappoint.</span><br /></p><p><span> </span></p><p> <b>SEE IT TO BELIEVE IT - <i>YE OLDE TRIP TO JERUSALEM, </i>Nottingham</b><br /></p><p><b><br /></b></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMYjMpmtvV54aJwuGUOm39QxbjI16wVO-PlWNlwQL_Nf6SJqCS4ww0TmwYDLM9a-5pcFeOSHM19ARTrLk06pRkd4dL8qmXEowcIHli-DLcDH4xug7b0uDYls34D4TUuvHpQuQrqQ78yBBsxB8uqVyKdlZvzx-PQ1u2q4gBJeT68gjIxW1EMhgPJbkiljs4/s4000/20230726_193432.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMYjMpmtvV54aJwuGUOm39QxbjI16wVO-PlWNlwQL_Nf6SJqCS4ww0TmwYDLM9a-5pcFeOSHM19ARTrLk06pRkd4dL8qmXEowcIHli-DLcDH4xug7b0uDYls34D4TUuvHpQuQrqQ78yBBsxB8uqVyKdlZvzx-PQ1u2q4gBJeT68gjIxW1EMhgPJbkiljs4/s320/20230726_193432.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLokYF1kyfc9-jtrtTMAseFr9s_fGR2GS_nQjf3Xg4dCJgv_hznmOk68sd-KdDzpUCHp3v6pSUbw-lZ24_pjl8wEgUxLXSMREtUl60moAt9NG_B6NB7k9itKGOwYIkGfElbQPxHeD1UwiLZhdf73yLSim7YSbeL0M0sT1kgo4SzfuXMUBVUyMCpixbUl31/s4000/20230726_200155.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLokYF1kyfc9-jtrtTMAseFr9s_fGR2GS_nQjf3Xg4dCJgv_hznmOk68sd-KdDzpUCHp3v6pSUbw-lZ24_pjl8wEgUxLXSMREtUl60moAt9NG_B6NB7k9itKGOwYIkGfElbQPxHeD1UwiLZhdf73yLSim7YSbeL0M0sT1kgo4SzfuXMUBVUyMCpixbUl31/s320/20230726_200155.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div>Another pub high up on the list of the UK's most renowned. Whether on not you believe its claim to be the oldest tavern in the country, the manner in which it burrows into the very walls of Nottingham Castle is worthy of wonder, as are its many nooks, crannies and singular hole in the ceiling. <p></p><p><br /></p><p><b>COUNTRY PUB - <i>WALNUT TREE, Broads Green, Chelmsford</i></b></p><p><b><i><br /></i></b></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHtfVI1xBCj5-DqWPTuqxQYjKYGQCXNaySNGyi5xHcUOdGXE7bixH2X7aqkF3BMTs1CGQgZcEX_JL6wpvThl1mw1DMWfO3k3WfuvECfLNEMjToHw9fa7ab6rbRssSPi9_fWNUe9DeOi5irtTm2dmWXeX-ALCcgWVjid3bb9bJxc7Xw2oBgYIJXvFD1Xb7W/s3264/20230727_152703.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHtfVI1xBCj5-DqWPTuqxQYjKYGQCXNaySNGyi5xHcUOdGXE7bixH2X7aqkF3BMTs1CGQgZcEX_JL6wpvThl1mw1DMWfO3k3WfuvECfLNEMjToHw9fa7ab6rbRssSPi9_fWNUe9DeOi5irtTm2dmWXeX-ALCcgWVjid3bb9bJxc7Xw2oBgYIJXvFD1Xb7W/s320/20230727_152703.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzCKxnG72IxVKGga2sbJYix1rPNOXtaEYOYm4JO4OpOzWbShb-Ao9KZfndH4bSdBfQBJJP3nUo2Z9ORAdRrlIRPD6TZN4yMVJKXGPY3wMnJwAza3p0wCSNDIoYCjiHuK3-2ITT72qgTYET9Qp7hDxqVV_wAAX-jOALxuLsoSIrub8eRGsjWpBn2MfETW-B/s3264/20230727_152608.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzCKxnG72IxVKGga2sbJYix1rPNOXtaEYOYm4JO4OpOzWbShb-Ao9KZfndH4bSdBfQBJJP3nUo2Z9ORAdRrlIRPD6TZN4yMVJKXGPY3wMnJwAza3p0wCSNDIoYCjiHuK3-2ITT72qgTYET9Qp7hDxqVV_wAAX-jOALxuLsoSIrub8eRGsjWpBn2MfETW-B/s320/20230727_152608.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p style="font-weight: bold;"><b><br /></b></p>The closest place I've recently encountered that brings one back to a 1930s British pub experience, or should that be 1950s? Reading the history of the pub, and its many redevelopments since Victorian times, it's hard to pin down which decade it's most reminiscent of. However, you can ignore all that and just enjoy its quiet charm complete with bench dedicated to a regular and its sign that creaks in the wind blowing gently across the village green.<p></p><p><br /></p><p><b>LONDON - THE SALISBURY HOTEL, Harringay, London</b></p><p><b><br /></b></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVnGaAk24tFyRwrJffRI7t72Awua1GSPssYq5eTE4lyDxUe77d9qXmLOanmkxkMAkpoN8vkHdAKWl-yXs0mGs8HF0Y4VZcs5enPLLU-w2IngW4785FRrNzEx3R9KdmfSOrtiP1tlRnSiUvyLJpmwryiV9oWvyazdrsoEjiu_HoRf-jdC94kXKepPv-_IXJ/s4000/20230729_151523.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVnGaAk24tFyRwrJffRI7t72Awua1GSPssYq5eTE4lyDxUe77d9qXmLOanmkxkMAkpoN8vkHdAKWl-yXs0mGs8HF0Y4VZcs5enPLLU-w2IngW4785FRrNzEx3R9KdmfSOrtiP1tlRnSiUvyLJpmwryiV9oWvyazdrsoEjiu_HoRf-jdC94kXKepPv-_IXJ/s320/20230729_151523.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnwa7LYDeIM95GohLYuGiVZa9FV4kFsZJHT0Dcw7yMvIxJxWAi09lLpvhyphenhyphenQkFtd3eY_GDEBfoStOBOVV4eNppMlLIUlpKtn3GUxtPeMGyQ05zBxDDUgPGYuiRjXvj1RliPXuKciruLmjdLLrX32xDRpNVl0er6PXjL2a3XHYsqTB59AnHpd6DkrKv2GLpA/s4000/20230729_151943.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnwa7LYDeIM95GohLYuGiVZa9FV4kFsZJHT0Dcw7yMvIxJxWAi09lLpvhyphenhyphenQkFtd3eY_GDEBfoStOBOVV4eNppMlLIUlpKtn3GUxtPeMGyQ05zBxDDUgPGYuiRjXvj1RliPXuKciruLmjdLLrX32xDRpNVl0er6PXjL2a3XHYsqTB59AnHpd6DkrKv2GLpA/s320/20230729_151943.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><b><br /></b>Its not often that a pub can properly be described as sumptuous, but The Salisbury deserves such an adjective. And its location in a relatively unheralded stretch of North London adds to its allure. As does its use for an early scene in <i>The Long Good Friday, </i>surely the finest gangster movie set in the capital.<p></p><p><br /></p><p><b>WATERSIDE - <i>CANALSIDE BAR, </i>Birmingham</b></p><p><b><i><br /></i></b></p><p><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmHjZcnaTt5wn5Xl7VY2YT9jrbJBa-gRo4PW9Fx2wagiQ-RHL0K6lpuu1QS2THF0dzowR_Uw9dMvNAZrD12Ob8HWMzsnmETd9-RCpBwSPtpl2GPIXEH04NRZF-NcBJLuW51NHlMjx1M0_EPFNycijdYxRbS-ejwUCgSCoyun4xE0O-IrtWY1K9bSRN7jvr/s4608/20230318_182144.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmHjZcnaTt5wn5Xl7VY2YT9jrbJBa-gRo4PW9Fx2wagiQ-RHL0K6lpuu1QS2THF0dzowR_Uw9dMvNAZrD12Ob8HWMzsnmETd9-RCpBwSPtpl2GPIXEH04NRZF-NcBJLuW51NHlMjx1M0_EPFNycijdYxRbS-ejwUCgSCoyun4xE0O-IrtWY1K9bSRN7jvr/s320/20230318_182144.jpg" width="320" /></a></b></div><b><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlERO4hJrifVf2ywCi-qigNop8Ixp4P4ZxCftawO0PrfysnJZsZ-V9yp513pWM1LEGx2lSCabqnDYConCvg1kfqVt4MgPJRWBEdApPLRfbhEclQ5KSvFUEf2q0ekf_gbXpPgCyKz8wGEoqO6WkSgDU23ctpRdcCCuQmZ4nH9hoIT2TOgi6ABVPxOsXo0Ah/s3264/20230318_183027.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlERO4hJrifVf2ywCi-qigNop8Ixp4P4ZxCftawO0PrfysnJZsZ-V9yp513pWM1LEGx2lSCabqnDYConCvg1kfqVt4MgPJRWBEdApPLRfbhEclQ5KSvFUEf2q0ekf_gbXpPgCyKz8wGEoqO6WkSgDU23ctpRdcCCuQmZ4nH9hoIT2TOgi6ABVPxOsXo0Ah/s320/20230318_183027.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><i><br /></i></b>OK, not the most imaginative of names, but a great location on the exceptionally well-regenerated Birmingham canal system. Its interior is reminiscent of a narrow boat, ensuring cosiness any time of the year, and outside tables to enjoy in the warmer months. <p></p><p><br /></p><p><b>DIAMOND IN THE ROUGH - <i>THE STORK HOTEL, </i>Birkenhead</b></p><p><b><br /></b></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4kpAcEQY50w6Gjb0AqUwsBgYal4-fxiZ-aU-qcFYDTG2kEuMmi84fCWGxfLz8l3FirblodGT22fbz8DqSKLKpTbHZMqvu7SLcsZoUZl4FysvuoW_f-S-oyjxS4NJTchPhXNbNQGf2cvWZm4vg2l0UPa9EFD418ixbgcCn7ql9opWnQPcJwhFoMv4zOPDZ/s4608/20230311_200840.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4kpAcEQY50w6Gjb0AqUwsBgYal4-fxiZ-aU-qcFYDTG2kEuMmi84fCWGxfLz8l3FirblodGT22fbz8DqSKLKpTbHZMqvu7SLcsZoUZl4FysvuoW_f-S-oyjxS4NJTchPhXNbNQGf2cvWZm4vg2l0UPa9EFD418ixbgcCn7ql9opWnQPcJwhFoMv4zOPDZ/s320/20230311_200840.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNyIym51ScLyCJa_JPS3yiWkLaZqFKFLO5bTYk0flGqqg2QgpnGErkBC2-nURu_uBp89_tU8OpwLTSpXVVJ8-u76EGQkaXL-wDiwPSMofHAot6xiZES2ezrcRGSdATVfuOnWqz9EeVPdD968OE9R2H2OS0EWd5jclYFj6z11DuYF99Sr1BI8fk5jPdnr0-/s4608/20230311_200852.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNyIym51ScLyCJa_JPS3yiWkLaZqFKFLO5bTYk0flGqqg2QgpnGErkBC2-nURu_uBp89_tU8OpwLTSpXVVJ8-u76EGQkaXL-wDiwPSMofHAot6xiZES2ezrcRGSdATVfuOnWqz9EeVPdD968OE9R2H2OS0EWd5jclYFj6z11DuYF99Sr1BI8fk5jPdnr0-/s320/20230311_200852.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><b><br /></b><p></p><p>In one hundreds of British urban districts allowed to unforgivably decline into near oblivion through decades of neglect, little corners fight to retain dignity and a sense of community. The Stork, run by a formidable matriarch, is a buzzing hub of fun and fraternity in all weathers - economic and climactic. The pub's beautiful Art Nouveau interior, fittings built by local industry (when such still existed), corridor hatch and tiling, bell pushes and other delightful details, enhance the welcome to any weary traveller, regular or bar blogger.</p><p><b>Honorary mentions in this category -</b></p><p>The nearby <i style="font-weight: bold;">Crown </i>is well worth a visit, especially when they turn up the heating...</p><p>The <i style="font-weight: bold;">Anchor Inn, </i>Digbeth, Birmingham, is a well-run oasis near the bus station, characterised by period-fitted back rooms and corridors. </p><p><br /></p><p><span><br /></span></p><p><b><br /></b></p><p><br /></p>The Pledgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07695094890563847119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4186167151280687868.post-41505017436286714082021-11-15T20:58:00.001+00:002021-11-15T21:20:12.041+00:00Return of the Snobs<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO3BnWUel0-0NVuQyT17rV94cxHK_foLA3a0ljwMew1K1H6hmkjEHQGWMbDMFA8wXdyfkdudA-yPH0oFSRfHoLKk2bEwmftyklGTgYGGqsbCIWtkECIz3p7PwmyzpVoLTpg4gNcinyz-6t/s2048/20181124_121634.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO3BnWUel0-0NVuQyT17rV94cxHK_foLA3a0ljwMew1K1H6hmkjEHQGWMbDMFA8wXdyfkdudA-yPH0oFSRfHoLKk2bEwmftyklGTgYGGqsbCIWtkECIz3p7PwmyzpVoLTpg4gNcinyz-6t/w400-h300/20181124_121634.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p> Snob screens at Leslie's Bar, Edinburgh</p><p><br /></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">A couple
entered the pub. A man and a woman both in their mid-30s. Trendily dressed,
stylish, even elegant. Masked, they approached the counter. The man did the
ordering and paying without removing his face covering. Drinks in hand, they moved
through the front saloon without pausing to look for standing room or even a
couple of chairs; their destination the three or four sitting rooms/snugs at
the rear. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: right 451.3pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I observed this occurrence, <i>standing</i> at the bar in the
estimable <i>Bull Inn</i> in Paisley, only a few days ago. Hardly worthy of
note, one might say, but it is perhaps an example of the new way of things in
and around pubs across this island and the wider world. There would be seats in
the sitting rooms for the couple to ease the weight on their feet, but I sensed
they wanted something else, too: to be separate from the relative busyness of
the main bar area, not have to mingle with us populating the public/saloon bar.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: right 451.3pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Everyone, of course, is entitled to do their own thing, sit
or stand where they want, talk to who they wish but <i>commentators</i> are also
free to draw attention to behaviours indicative of general trends, and the
trend here is of the bourgeoise sipping their drinks, always seated, in the
comfortable back rooms while the plebs drain their pints on their feet at the
bar. Each to their own, as I said, but it is a fact that the former, have sought
to prohibit the latter exercising their own particular way of life and way of
drinking over the past year and a half and into the grim future.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: right 451.3pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The title photo of this blog shows the “snob screens” of <i>Leslie’s
Bar </i>in Edinburgh’s southside (an even more magnificent pub than the <i>Bull
Inn). </i>These features of late-Victorian/Edwardian pubs allowed the
better-off, the bosses, the professional classes, to partake of drink hidden
from their social inferiors. In essence, to indulge in pleasure without having
to admit such pleasure. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: right 451.3pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Today’s new “snobs” would laugh at such artifacts of less enlightened
times, and be shocked if their conduct was regarded as similar. After all,
they would say, “We are progressives, we believe in inclusivity, diversity, community,
society.” But are they, in fact, practising the modern equivalent? As always,
it is wise to pay attention to people’s actions, not their words.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: right 451.3pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Confined to the snugs and private areas of a selection of
traditional pubs, this resurgence of segregation and associated attitudes could
be written off as just an interesting side-note, but it is not just emerging in
hostelries’ internal architecture, rather, whole bars are changing their
operating methods, and limiting access. <o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN5pXTR2c2k9Ak8DHOLRc8-SXSarAxERDxJvHmA8UC-ZWpwUqumlC3JBDKoDw_K_CvEqwYS6nEyACioY0NMWWHrRMh5rhxLs0LFyECJziBwvMJfCIlfOaZZARpMliGtU1GTNH3NOVCtgfr/s2048/20211106_153324.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN5pXTR2c2k9Ak8DHOLRc8-SXSarAxERDxJvHmA8UC-ZWpwUqumlC3JBDKoDw_K_CvEqwYS6nEyACioY0NMWWHrRMh5rhxLs0LFyECJziBwvMJfCIlfOaZZARpMliGtU1GTNH3NOVCtgfr/w300-h400/20211106_153324.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div> The view from the back of The Bull</div><div><br /></div><div><p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: right 451.3pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The same weekend as my enjoyable visit to the <i>Bull Inn, </i>a
pal and I were on more familiar territory, along the Gallowgate. After a first drink
in <i>226 Gallowgate </i>for many a long month, we crossed the road to <i>The
Gate. </i>At the end of its close entrance, a red velvet rope barred our way. As
I attempted to unfasten the rope, a staff member hurried over at a speed only
suggestive of some bonus exclusively reserved for the knocking back of
customers. He asked if we had a table booking. With barely a word, we shook our
heads and left. A few yards further east sits <i>Van Winkle. </i>Here we
managed to reach the actual bar within the joint. But as we got ready to order
our drinks, an employee enquired if he could help. Our simple reply that we
would like a drink had him a bit flummoxed. After a pause, he stated he would
see if he could find us a table. After an achingly slow 60 seconds, we saved
him the trouble. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: right 451.3pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">In order to retrieve some sanity, we crossed the road to <i>The
Cabin (only </i>recently reopened) and had a Guinness and a chat with proprietor
Donna. In order not to spoil the mood, I didn’t mention our recent experiences the
other side of the Gallowgate. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: right 451.3pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Now, I have nothing against cocktail bars; bars that operate,
primarily, around table service. Nothing at all, I’ve drunk in many of them. But
the best of them emerge organically, not through a desire to be painfully
on-message with public health diktats. And they will find you a seat or allow
you to stand near the bar, the only exception; you are an obvious reprobate. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: right 451.3pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">But these two establishments, and others, were previously
thriving bars offering a mix of standing and seating. However, despite a
seeming return to normality, they have chosen to enthusiastically embrace the ‘new-normal’,
and stand ready to eagerly follow each and every restriction imposed on them by
their government, just to appear right-on, virtuous. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: right 451.3pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Only a few weeks earlier, in <i>The Finnieston, </i>(one of
my previously favourite bars of the last decade) the Muse and I were seated at
the bar late on a Saturday evening. We had taken the chairs only because they
were vacant, comfort our only motivation. It soon became apparent, as other people
attempted to approach the bar, that standing was no longer tolerated. The manager,
just like the staff in <i>The Gate </i>and <i>Van Winkle, </i>was extremely
keen to enforce this rule, informing every entrant that there were no seats
left, sending at least 20 people back out into the rain.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: right 451.3pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">As we sat drinking our next and final round, I asked the guy why
they had adopted this policy. He immediately mentioned Covid, under the
impression that this would end the discussion. But those Covid regulations are
gone, was my reply. After a few management-speak banalities, he seemed
exasperated I wasn’t buying his line. His last attempt was that we had the best
of it, comfortably seated, able to order without the hassle of crowds. I nodded
– “But if we had been three minutes later, we’d be outside with the rest of
those unfortunates you have dispatched.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: right 451.3pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I forget his exact response, but that and their reasons for
imposing table-only are immaterial, the damage is done, will be done. Pubs and
clubs are one of the few remaining places in modern life for people to meet and
talk to folk outside of their immediate circle of friends and family, eclectic
melting pots of discourse and fraternity. Table-only establishments allow none
of this. For a society already profoundly atomised, we can ill afford the demise
of any such meeting place. The resultant fractures will lead to consequences that
may even affect the new snobs, wherever they’re seated. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: right 451.3pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: right 451.3pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: right 451.3pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><br /></div>The Pledgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07695094890563847119noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4186167151280687868.post-28314133898565523572021-02-20T20:29:00.000+00:002021-02-20T20:29:18.844+00:00The Eternal Whipping Boy<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So here</span><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">we are, 11 months in, and a few days before the UK
government’s announcement of their “roadmap” out of lockdown. Amidst the
mountains of speculation, one thing is pretty much agreed upon by all observers,
pubs will be at the back of the queue for reopening. What is also widely
acknowledged is that such a decision has no scientific basis. But that doesn’t
matter to politicians, academics, journalists, social media commentators and
all the other influencers, large and small. That the licensed trade and night-time
economy occupy the lowest rung is more about worthiness than rates of
transmission. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Going to the
pub is frivolous, they say, and we must prioritise other sectors before we can
even consider bars and nightclubs. So non-essential shops will be back first,
followed by every other business you can think of and then pubs, maybe, and
probably with restrictions for months, even when most of the population are
vaccinated. Because going to the pub is just a luxury, they tell us. Completely
ignoring the benefits socialising brings to all of society; relaxation,
improved mental health, combatting loneliness and isolation, community spirit,
spending time with strangers, old-fashioned fraternity. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In
comparison to pubs and clubs, restaurants and coffee shops will be treated far
more favourably. These activities, eating and mainlining caffeine, are
respectable. You can be productive on coffee, you see. This is to be encouraged
in the brave new world of work and achievement. Popping into a bar for a few
drinks, just to see what happens or who you might meet, is such an alien
concept to our rulers (official and unofficial) that the arguments over a
substantial meal with a drink went right over their heads. And an extra bonus
is that subversion – social and political – is a phenomenon rarely seen in cafes.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The roadmap
of Monday 22<sup>nd</sup> February is likely to be guided by all the above
“considerations” and hospitality – Britain’s vice, don’t you know? – will have
to stomach the gruel it is served. Pubs in Scotland will face an even less
palatable menu, with Nicola Sturgeon set to look at the schedule set out by
Boris Johnson and mirror most of it, particularly its sequencing, but add on
five or six weeks for Scotland.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">That’s because
the SNP has an unwritten motto, as do a chunk of the population, “never
knowingly less righteous (ie authoritarian) than the next country”. Seemingly
more in thrall to public health experts here than in any other part of the UK,
if not Europe – without seeing any actual improvements in population health.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have academics such as Professor Niamh Fitzgerald
of the University of Stirling whose team recently produced a piece of research regarding
conduct within licensed premises across central Scotland during the time they
were actually allowed to open and sell alcohol. I mentioned this research team
and its intentions way back in my last blog. According to the researchers, there
was not 100% compliance with the required social-distancing and other measures.
When I suggested online that this survey was commissioned by the Scottish
Government, she replied that it was not commissioned by the government, rather
the CSO (Chief Scientific Officer) had solicited for research and then accepted
their proposal. I thanked her for the information but it took a few more
messages on Twitter before she actually admitted the research was funded by the
Scottish Government. Quite a crucial fact, one could say.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The
professor has made a career out of demonising alcohol, so doubt must be raised
about the impartiality of her and her team of researchers. They visited 29
premises and spent around 2 hours in each. With all due respect to their skills
and commitment, I visited far more than that amount of pubs across Scotland,
England, Northern Ireland and Wales in the period July to October and found a remarkable
level of industry adherence to the rules, not to mention a serious and probably
crippling amount of money spent on screens, PPE, outdoor seating etc<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In those
many licensed premises I can recall only one joint which did not take my name
and address. In comparison, in the same three months, I visited a similar
amount of different coffee shops, and in at least 10% of those premises there
was no recording of my name and address. But as we know, coffee shops, cafes
and restaurants, supermarkets etc are not put under the scrutiny experienced by
pubs.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">As if to add
to our joy north of the border, Sturgeon and colleagues appear to now be intent
on following the advice of zero-Covid zealots like media darling Professor Devi
Sridhar. One of the main outcomes of this tack will be the banning of all
foreign travel from Scotland for an indefinite period. That this may be
accepted by a sizeable amount of the Scottish electorate is perhaps down to the
quite extraordinary (in peacetime, anyway) amount of psych-ops employed by all
UK governments, a task which has been taken up with glee by psychologists such
as Professor Stephen Reicher of St Andrews University (yes, another Scottish-based
professor).<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">When one
observes this panoply of concerted action by many professions, one does wonder
if lockdown has presented an opportunity for the professional and laptop
classes to once again examine and dismantle the lives and passions of the lower-middle
and working classes. And perhaps even exact some revenge for Brexit (I speak as
a Remainer, btw). <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“So you
voted for Brexit, eh? Well, because you have jeopardised the chances of students
undertaking an Erasmus, you can forget about that cheap week in the sun in
Benidorm. And see those few quiet pints in your local midweek, or a booze-up in
the social club or nightclub come Saturday, that won’t be allowed until at
least summer 2022. And, by the way, keep delivering those Amazon packages and
serving me at Waitrose. That’s your place, and don’t forget it.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Yes, eventually
the pubs and social clubs will re-emerge in the UK, maybe even nightclubs and casinos.
But the landscape will have changed dramatically, independent operators even
more an endangered species, chains such as Wetherspoons ever more dominant. It
didn’t have to be this way, but it is the inevitable outcome of the UK establishment
once again casting the licensed trade as the whipping boy.</span></p>The Pledgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07695094890563847119noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4186167151280687868.post-24870382740364946372020-05-14T12:12:00.000+01:002020-05-14T12:12:25.509+01:00You're On Your Own <br />
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Davy has been at his bedroom window most of the day for the last eight weeks. He goes out for a walk sometimes but can’t be bothered others; there’s nothing happening, nowhere open. Of course. But still he stands there, looking out from his second-floor tenement flat. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The main reason is maybe because he can see both the <i>Alexandra Bar</i> and <i>The Crown Creighton</i> from there. His real favourite, <i>The Duke Bar</i>, is just out of sight but two out of three isn’t bad. In normal times, he pops in to one or more of those bars most days. Just a couple, mind, he’s not a heavy drinker. He goes for the chat, maybe some dominoes. Not too many folk frequent both the Alexandra and the Creighton but Davy is a non-denominational socialiser; for him, the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">thing</i> is to get out and about, for its own sake. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Jean, his wife, is gone three years. His family now consists of two great nieces and their mum and dad. They only visit him occasionally during the best of times, so… Most of his pals are in the same boat. He doesn’t know though if they stand at their windows too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe they’ve got a chair they bring over. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">He’s one of the luckier ones, he thinks. Some of his friends, living in hollowed-out areas such as Dalmarnock or Haghill or Ruchazie, don’t even have a local Post Office or general store, let alone a decent pub. His pension is lasting not too bad and his health is reasonable too, a couple of stents inserted half a decade ago the only real issue.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">So he is well able to stroll down to the Gallowgate for a visit to <i>The Drover</i> and/or <i>Hielan Jessie</i>, maybe even as far as <i>The Braemar</i>, beyond The Barras. </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">On his way back home after a few pints he often gets to thinking on his luck and of people he has known over the years, people less blessed than him. And of course, he has regrets. Drink brings these thoughts out but somehow he knows it’s right that he does revisit his past; contemplating is just something you should do, with or without booze in you. </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Other times, especially weekends, his mood takes him further into town, around and about High Street. It can be</span><i><span style="font-size: 16px;"> </span><span style="font-size: 16px;">MacKinnon’s</span></i><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> or <i>The Old College Bar</i>; even better, karaoke in <i>The Old Ship Bank</i> or <i>The Black Bull</i> until midnight. Then a taxi home – he never has done chips or kebabs after drink – or a long walk. More thoughts.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And at his window, some of those thoughts are returning to his fortune in life compared to others, wondering whether he has taken what he has, what he had, for granted. The friendships; his time with Jean; their holidays to the Dorset coast, or to Spain every couple of years; his youth. All things receding, long gone, of course, but maybe there is still life to be lived. And maybe it won’t be too long until the pubs reopen. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Those who follow the news assiduously will realise I could not possibly interview “Davy” or anyone else face-to-face in these strange times, so they can cheerfully disregard all that I’ve written above. However, there are many people like Davy and some will perhaps share his optimism regarding pubs and clubs and their future. In that regard, a dose of realism is required. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Leaving aside questions of R rates, PPE, care home neglect, the pitifully low capacity for test, trace and isolate; the fate of the hospitality trade in Scotland depends largely on political will. So let’s see where the large political parties in Scotland stand.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">To begin with, years of legislation, disparaging statements and general public policy in this country have demonstrated what politicians and their advisers think of Scotland’s bars, social and nightclubs: for them, pub-going is the country’s dirty little secret. They may pay lip service to some restaurants/bars that bring in tourism money but for the kind of pubs Davy might go to, there is nothing but ignorance and disdain. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In the last few years, there has at last been recognition that home drinking is far more damaging to public health than that in regulated environments such as pubs, but this has come far too late to arrest the decline in the numbers of pubs seen in Glasgow and across the country.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">As for the Tory party; unless people haven’t been paying attention for at least the last 40 years, the Conservatives only care about their own. I will leave you to decide what tiny percentage of the population that actually is. And as for the party in Scotland in particular, any party/organisation/piss-up in a brewery/menage that has Jackson Carlaw at its head is in deep trouble. Needless to say, the plight of ordinary, traditional pubs in areas of Glasgow beyond the tourist or Instagram circuit is not at the top of the Tories’ priority list. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The Scottish Labour Party has always failed to deliver on its rhetoric claiming to represent the less well off. The party has more represented the interests of public sector professionals and a slice of their counterparts in the private sector, rather than bus drivers, cleaners, the unemployed. And its record over decades of hegemony in the GCC is a rather shameful one, consigning the city to life under the twin blights of neglect and corruption, especially with regard to Glasgow’s built heritage. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In Glasgow and the wider nation, the SNP has now been in charge for a sizeable amount of time, and can no longer point at past failings of other parties as an excuse for outcomes today. They share the general political distrust of pub-goers and pub and club operators, and may indeed feel it even more keenly, given the deep strain of puritanism and self-righteousness embedded in their DNA. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And a recent announcement that they have commissioned a Stirling University-led study into how pubs in Scotland could open has raised fears amongst industry insiders that this academic-led work is designed to achieve the exact opposite, namely keeping pubs shut for as long as possible, not as long as is necessary. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There has been talk of the first bar reopenings comprising of outdoor service only, but this will surely require councils to ease their draconian policies affecting outdoor drinking. Going by previous actions of GCC, this kind of flexibility seems unlikely, killing stone dead any early hope of even limited trading. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Indeed, it is suspected, if council offshoot City Building has its way, the eventual closure of pubs such as The Old College Bar and The Black Bull will be welcomed, allowing them even more scope to facilitate developers’ greedy plans for more and more identikit blocks of student flats.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">No, the prognosis for the bar, club, hotel trade is not at all good (I claim the prize for the understatement of the decade) and pub lovers – whether punters or licensees – are on their own. Don’t expect any help from politicians, Twitter’s circuits of self-congratulation, the Edinburgh-based lobbyists, and most academics. The only way they will bend is under sustained pressure.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">My prediction – and I fervently hope to be wrong - is that, as bars across Europe gradually open their doors again, those in Scotland will be at least 3-4 months behind, and probably the last in Europe to reopen. And with restricted trading likely to continue for a while after that, a reasonable estimate is that more than half of Glasgow and Scottish licensed premises will be gone for good by the end of 2021. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Pessimistic maybe, but that is where the present evidence points. Who knows how long Davy will be standing at his window?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br />The Pledgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07695094890563847119noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4186167151280687868.post-56506829126736755352020-01-07T23:08:00.002+00:002020-01-07T23:09:19.631+00:00Favourite Bars of the Last Decade<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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No unnecessary preamble; this particular stuff requires no explanation.<br />
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<b><br />
</b> <b>LONDON</b><br />
<b><br />
</b> Favourite Bar - <i><b>Town of Ramsgate </b>- </i>the most atmospheric of the many great Thames-side boozers, the proximity of the historic Wapping Old Stairs adding to the air of the place. Hopefully the latest refurb won't change things too much nor preclude a good old London singsong.<br />
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Runners-up - <i style="font-weight: bold;">The Boleyn Tavern </i>(East Ham's finest on a grand scale).<br />
- <b><i>Boisdale Belgravia</i></b> (nowhere better for whisky and cigars).<br />
- <b><i>Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese</i></b> (if it's good enough for Dickens it's good enough for me).<br />
- <i style="font-weight: bold;">Dog and Duck </i>(ditto Orwell in this slice of Amsterdam in Soho).<br />
- <b><i>Windsor Castle</i></b> (a mahogany gem of an interior ingeniously compartmentalised).<br />
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<b>EDINBURGH </b><br />
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Favourite Bar - <i style="font-weight: bold;">The Central Bar </i>- a living example that a working-class bar can be just as grand as its more upmarket cousins. Situated beside the site of the old Central Station in Leith, the interior's use of tile, stained glass and mosaic flooring, not to mention a remarkable wooden gantry, can render a first-time visitor speechless in admiration; while the more regular punters just get on with their drinking.<br />
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Runners-up -<i><b> Leslie's</b></i> (a southside treasure trove of snugs, elegant woodwork and snob screens.)<br />
- <b><i>Jinglin' Geordie</i></b> (superseded The Halfway House as the best fun to be had down Fleshmarket Close).<br />
- <b><i>Devil's Advocate</i></b> (a more modern take on how to feel at one with the Old Town and its back closes,coupled with a huge whisky list).<br />
- <b><i>The Shore</i></b> (restrained elegance down by Leith waterfront, its dark wood best enjoyed by candlelight).<br />
-<i style="font-weight: bold;"> Bramble </i>(led the way in the capital's cocktail renaissance).<br />
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<b>EUROPE</b><br />
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<b><br />
</b> <b><br />
</b> Favourite Bar -<b> <i>Boadas</i> - </b>it's not just that it's Barcelona's oldest cocktail bar and that you are drawn back to the '30s as soon as you enter this wood-panelled sanctuary that from the street offers no obvious signs of the delights inside. No, add the impeccable bow-tied service, the gentle atmosphere, the exemplary cocktail expertise. On my first visit, I sampled the barman's latest creation - Blackpool Rock - one of the 365 they have to learn and perfect for every day of the year. And he threw in hand-drawn directions to a hard-to-find bar next on my itinerary.<br />
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Runners-up - <i><b>Los Caracoles</b></i> (a labyrinthian grotto of a restaurant dedicated to Barcelona classics, made even better by its beautiful front bar, or vice versa; take your pick).<br />
- <b style="font-style: italic;">Alternatiff Area Comix Gallery Bar </b>(how Prague does a dive bar, complete with<br />
Tony Montana mural).<br />
-<i> <b>Tynska Bar and Books</b></i> (booze and literature, literature and booze, booze and...)<br />
- <b><i>Black Swan</i></b> (service and cocktail knowledge to rival the world's best, at a fraction of the cost, in this backstreet Budapest joint).<br />
- <i><b>Szimpla Kert</b></i> (Budapest's best ruin bar; quite an accolade).<br />
- <i><b>Lo Scalo</b></i> (hacked out of a Riomaggiore cliff. The view alone...)<br />
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<b><br />
</b><b>REST OF ENGLAND AND WALES</b><br />
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<b><br />
</b> <b><br />
</b> Favourite Bar - <i style="font-weight: bold;">The Philharmonic Dining Rooms </i>- a lot of pubs are described as palaces. This place is one. A Liverpool institution for decades, it brings the city's people together in drink and food, whether they notice the countless Victorian extravagances in glass, copper, mahogany and tiles or not.<br />
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Runners-up - <b><i>The Pheasant Inn</i></b> (in Cumbria - great food, pleasant gardens and an even more impressive public bar).<br />
- <b><i>The Corn Mill</i></b> (how to do a riverside pub, here by Llangollen's fast-flowing River Dee)<br />
- <b><i>The Hand</i> </b>(a Welsh village local near the superb Pistyll Rhaeadr waterfall. Plenty of chat, most of it in Welsh. Limited craft beer selection - who gives a ....?)<br />
- <i style="font-weight: bold;">The Boot Inn </i>and <i style="font-weight: bold;">The Duke of Cornwall </i>(both in Weymouth. One for heritage overlooking the harbour, the other just for a good time).<br />
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<b>REST OF SCOTLAND</b><br />
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Favourite Bar - <i style="font-weight: bold;">Kintail Lodge Hotel - </i>it may not be the most illustrious of bars but is situated in the heart of one of Highland Scotland's most spectacular areas. Good food and drink and an eclectic mixture of locals, climbers, walkers, and tourists from far and wide. If you're lucky, you might even get an impromptu performance from a local piper or accordionist.<br />
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Runners-up - <i><b>The Old Forge</b></i> (community togetherness and intrigue all in one building. I recommend the long walk in through Knoydart, as long as you are prepared for the Rough Bounds).<br />
- <i><b>Feuars Arms</b></i> (it is very rare in Scotland to have such flourishes of style outwith the<br />
the big cities. And that cistern...wow!)<br />
-<b> <i>Monteiths</i></b> (Untouched with limited-edition mirroring. Shore Road, Gourock).<br />
- <b><i>Black Cat Bar</i></b> (just along the road to Greenock and this bar also has a terrazzo spittoon. Slightly more detail than in Monteiths and with an archetypal island bar).<br />
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<b>IRELAND </b><br />
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<b><br />
</b> <b><br />
</b> Favourite Bar - <i style="font-weight: bold;">Cleary's </i>- to pick my favourite Dublin bar is a tough ask but this place has it all; the Joyce connection - as The Signal Box- it sits under a railway bridge in the shadows, it is not inundated with tourists, and has an amazing interior.<br />
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Runners-up - <i style="font-weight: bold;">The Stag's Head </i>and <i style="font-weight: bold;">Mulligan's </i>(it says much about Dubliners' civic pride that historic pubs such as these have been protected for well over 100 years).<br />
<b> - </b><i style="font-weight: bold;">The Dawson Lounge </i>(show me a smaller bar, go on, show me one!)<br />
- <i style="font-weight: bold;">Quinn's Bar </i>(a snug, a signal box and an extensive back court in this Dungannon stalwart).<br />
- <b><i>The Crown Liquor Saloon</i></b> (once seen, never forgotten).<br />
- <i style="font-weight: bold;">The Spaniard </i>(a long narrow continental bar never lacking a buzz).<br />
- <i style="font-weight: bold;">The Morning Star </i>(less well-known than the two Belfast bars above, an example of<br />
how well the city has used its alleyways, known as entries in these parts).<br />
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<b>GLASGOW</b><br />
<b><br />
</b> Favourite Bar - <b style="font-style: italic;">The Finnieston </b>- if I was judging over the last couple of years, when standards have slipped here a bit in terms of bar expertise and service, it would not be top but over the piece, as they say, The Finnieston has been the best cocktail joint in the city. Its low ceiling and discerning use of dark wood create atmosphere from lunchtime till last orders, and I don't know why I enjoy feeling like I'm sitting inside a galleon but I just do. And its outdoor area out back over the old railway line is one of the best cigar spots anywhere.<br />
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Runners-up - <i style="font-weight: bold;">The Grove </i>(still holding its own amidst the Michelin-star-hunting eateries).<br />
- <i style="font-weight: bold;">The Old Toll Bar </i>(best-looking bar in Glasow).<br />
- <i style="font-weight: bold;">The Georgic </i>(old-school split between lounge and public bar).<br />
- <i style="font-weight: bold;">The Railway Tavern </i>(Edwardian Shettleston. Blogger-free zone).<br />
- <b style="font-style: italic;">Cabin Bar </b>(you won't find smaller. You won't find more casual).<br />
- <i><b> Black Bull</b></i> (it's not just the karaoke).<br />
- <i><b>One Up</b></i> (I've lost count the number of times I've...).<br />
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<b><br />
</b> <b>TIP FOR THE NEXT ONE</b><br />
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<b><br />
</b> Areas like Gallowgate/Calton need reviving, not gentrifying. Hopefully, joints like <i style="font-weight: bold;">The Gate </i>will help to do just that. And just for its own sake, maybe it can show that there is still a future for properly thought-out wet-led new bars in this city.<br />
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<br />The Pledgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07695094890563847119noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4186167151280687868.post-34648867577995134192017-10-05T13:45:00.000+01:002017-10-05T13:45:39.053+01:00Backwards and Forwards <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiK2XT05wcTI_tjR-jh-nZqVURzctcRRqvxTJ7mnWubYgG2sVCTMryspBMBZQ1cQVoi1FiWTYg03VZxHsq8wXhUKl6BzjDQlLpk3EilMqyAR9H5_0d0XoiypGU3kQmIyO1-6-BQZ5styWZ/s1600/2013-01-15+12.51.07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiK2XT05wcTI_tjR-jh-nZqVURzctcRRqvxTJ7mnWubYgG2sVCTMryspBMBZQ1cQVoi1FiWTYg03VZxHsq8wXhUKl6BzjDQlLpk3EilMqyAR9H5_0d0XoiypGU3kQmIyO1-6-BQZ5styWZ/s320/2013-01-15+12.51.07.jpg" width="320" height="240" data-original-width="320" data-original-height="240" /></a></div><br />
As, unfortunately, time only seems to point one way, sometimes it’s nice to defy the currently established laws of physics and look backwards as well as forwards, maybe even simultaneously. So that’s what I’ll do here, before the passage of time renders it all mightily insignificant.<br />
<br />
One of the aims behind this blog was to link the present with the past, specifically (though not exclusively) Glasgow bars with their previous incarnations. Largely because it is hard to think of any other shared, community assets that a person of today can sit or stand in the same place that their forefathers and foremothers did, and then do exactly the same thing they did too – take a drink.<br />
<br />
Perhaps libraries and museums are further examples of such shared and continuous heritage but they lack the number of pubs and most definitely their conviviality. Bars are living history and are aptly described as “people’s palaces”.<br />
<br />
So it is nice to hear some first-hand responses to this blog that tell of people’s own connections with pubs, stories that link them and their families with the life of a bar mentioned in my musings herein. Three spring mos prominently to mind.<br />
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Anne Fox now lives in the States. She used to live on Admiral Street, as a child, just round the corner from the <a href="http://thebarbiographer.blogspot.co.uk/2016/09/the-old-toll-bar-reopens.html">Old Toll Bar</a>. Coming across my blog, she decided to email me about the bar. In her early years, she was, of course, unable to enter the premises but she has fond memories of its role in the community and its use by her family. Her recollections included stories of a major subsidence issue with the building in 1954, leading to her mother having to throw the young Anne from the window to safety, and a tragic gas incident which resulted in the death of Anne’s grandparents in the mid-1960s.<br />
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Having emigrated around half a century ago, she returned to visit the area about two or three years ago and was disappointed to see the Old Toll unoccupied and in a sorry state. However, my blog alerted her to the reopening and resurgence of the bar and when she returns this autumn she intends to visit the Old Toll and raise a toast to the past with old friends and her cousin, her only remaining family member from those distant days.<br />
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A posting of mine from a few years ago, surveyed various unheralded bars round about <a href="http://thebarbiographer.blogspot.co.uk/2011/11/parkhead-shuffle.html">Parkhead Cross</a> and received a generous response from a local, Mo. He recounted light-hearted tales from the hostelries of the district frequented by his father and other relatives, most notably the gigging exploits of his brother Tommy, an accomplished guitarist, whose virtuosity on his instrument of choice didn’t protect him from the indignity of stepping aside every time a punter wanted to use the pub’s toilets. Aye, space is precious in the Glasgow bar.<br />
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The last anecdote I will mention relates to a bar I have concentrated quite a bit of attention on in this blog, it being recognised by those most knowledgeable on the subject as the oldest bar in Glasgow. Standing in a bar one day, appropriately enough, talking to a barman about my blog and specifically the fate of the <a href="http://thebarbiographer.blogspot.co.uk/2013/03/the-old-college-bar-glasgows-oldest-bar.html">Old College Bar</a>, a woman of around 40 nearby, enquired if we were indeed talking about the bar on High Street.<br />
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Now living in the West End, she was originally from Castlemilk and she told me that the Old College Bar was where 30-odd years ago her father, then separated from her mother, would pop into the Old College after he had picked up her and her sister from their mum at the weekends. He would catch up with his buddies and have a couple of pints while the girls would be indulged with soft drinks and crisps. All refreshed, they would be ready for the long bus journey to his home. For this lady, the demise of the Old College, if and when it goes, would be a severing of a link to her past, bittersweet though it was.<br />
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Three everyday stories, no more, no less, but all illustrative of the important role pubs have played and will continue to play in the lives of the folk of Glasgow.<br />
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So that’s the past dealt with but we have to always look forward, there is no choice - unless the B-Theory of time can be proven - so here are my plans for the near future, some of which may creep into this blog.<br />
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I preferred the previous incarnation, Universal, but Malones in Sauchiehall Lane have piqued my interest with their newly constructed rooftop cider garden. I will be visiting it very soon. Coincidentally, there are a few plans for other rooftop bars across the city, including the Radisson Red hotel near the Hydro, due to open in April, and I believe another similar offering at the hotel under construction south of St Enoch Square, also overlooking the Clyde.<br />
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Less welcome, for me, are Brewdog’s plans for a new outlet, Hopworks, on East Campbell Street near the Barras. The most recent developments in the area, St Lukes, and A’Challtainn are joints that are sympathetic to the district and to its history. The arrival of the Brewdog chain to east of High Street suggests gentrification rather than benefit to locals. On the upside, the plans do include a beer terrace.<br />
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The Viking Bar on Maryhill Road continues with its radical refurb, installing, for example, huge windows on its west and south sides. I visited a couple of months ago when works were around halfway completed, I will return once everything is done and dusted.<br />
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Not too far away from the Viking, up in Possil, the Balmore Bar has reopened after a lengthy absence. It is looking bright and dapper and I will include it in a proposed survey of in and around Saracen Cross during the first weekend in November, the highlight of which will probably be my return to the excellent Standard Inn.<br />
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Celino’s massive new opening in Partick has received lots of attention, an investment which is an enormous jump in capacity for the owners, coming from their far more modestly-sized outlet on Alexandria Parade. I’ve been in during daylight hours and am impressed with the interior, even though I would have preferred use of a darker wood tone. I particularly like the small coffee bar by the door, those couple of chairs surely the best seats in the house.<br />
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Their island bar is an attempt to create a destination drinking spot, something their rivals in the east, Coia’s, have never utilised. It will be interesting to see the interaction of a night-time between diners and drinkers.<br />
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Moving away from Glasgow, next month I will be heading up the east coast for a long-overdue return to the watering holes of Aberdeen. The historic gems, the Grill and Cameron’s Inn (Ma’s) will surely be visited, along with the whisky and cigar emporium CASC.<br />
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Nearer in time, this weekend I will be returning to Northern Ireland after a visit only six weeks ago. On that occasion, I missed the opportunity of sampling the delights of a few gloriously intact listed interiors of pubs in County Tyrone. This time, that mistake will not be repeated when I land in Belfast. <br />
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Pubs on my list include Ronnie Drew’s, the Errigle Inn, and the Rock. And even though I’ve been many times, the most famous of all, the Crown Liquor Saloon will feature too. It promises to be a good weekend. Just goes to show, there is even some comfort in the future, no matter how fleeting.<br />
The Pledgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07695094890563847119noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4186167151280687868.post-32851521551917688242017-06-13T23:37:00.000+01:002017-06-13T23:37:43.854+01:00The Shettleston TwoThe Railway Tavern, 1416 Shettleston Road, Glasgow G32 9AL<br />
The Portland Arms, 1169 Shettleston Road, G32 7NB<br />
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One of the main components of the East End of Glasgow, Shettleston is a district often burdened by a fearsome reputation but in reality it is much like many areas of the city, north, west, east and south, with the accompanying positives and negatives.<br />
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There is a decent promenade to be had along the length of the main artery, Shettleston Road, selecting pubs as you go. But it is a pity that so few interested imbibers, not to mention bloggers, seem to want to explore around here.<br />
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Anyway, their loss, and that includes missing out on two of Glasgow’s best bar interiors. The first of these is the Railway Tavern, situated at the eastern end of the thoroughfare. <br />
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The Railway Tavern is a modest, cottage building, with no hint of the delights inside. This pub dates from Edwardian times and was from the first regarded as a workingman’s establishment. <br />
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At first glance the interior looks quite simple, basic even. An island bar with a low-rise, fragile looking gantry greets one, but the beamed ceiling is more impressive. The interior is quite small, everything seemingly scaled-down. But this just adds to the warm feeling that comes over you in here, unannounced.<br />
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It is more than just the heat you get from the numerous guarded fires. There are two of these sited permanently in the two sitting rooms (or snugs) that give this place some of its reputation. One of these has some interesting engravings on its wall but the real interest is the service buttons that were once linked to service signal boxes in the main area. Those wishing to conduct their drinking away from their fellows could thus summon service without leaving their seats. Those were the days…<br />
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Another feature of great interest is the Family Department or Jug Bar. This is an enclosed area by one small corner of the bar counter only accessible through one exterior door. There would be no mixing between those using this area and those in the rest of the bar, because this was where the family (wife or children) would be allowed to collect a jug of beer for the man of the house. An early off-licence.<br />
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The Railway Tavern retains such curiosities long past their actual use, realising that history should be preserved and that it gives modern pub-goers an enjoyable link to that history. <br />
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The tavern nowadays is a real community pub. The manager, Derek, knows most punters by name and creates a welcoming atmosphere for everyone. Unusually for around Shettleston there is a beer garden, situated beside trees at the back. All in all, The Railway Tavern is a good option to take in the afternoon’s football on TV, a full evening of chat and drink, even karaoke at 3pm Tuesday and Sunday.<br />
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Opposite is the The Kirkhouse, a decent family and food-friendly establishment but the other historical gem in Shettleston is The Portland Arms, about 600 yards west of The Railway Tavern.<br />
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Re-opened in the 1930s to accommodate the drinking appetite of well-paid workers newly employed in the armament factories of the East End, The Portland Arms shares with the Steps Bar and Rogano Restaurant, both of the city centre, a well-preserved Art Deco interior. These are some of the best examples of inter-war design anywhere in the UK.<br />
The previous Portland Arms had been around since 1842, the new version the brainchild of ambitious licensee Jonathan Tindal. He used the architect Alexander-Hood Macleod, whose business had been in decline. Macleod’s main experience had been industrial work, and these techniques and materials were applied to The Portland, which is a B Listed building and interior.<br />
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There are many notable features starting with the building’s modernist exterior. Its granite and brick fascia and steel lettering sets it apart from the tenements all around. Inside, the vogue materials of the 1930’s walnut and chrome are employed to great effect. All doors and the counter are in walnut, with walnut zebra-style veneer panelling also on the walls. Chrome is banded round the counter. Small match strikers remain under the counter and between seats, an echo of smoking days. Above the bar gantry is a large cream canopy, a very unusual feature, originally inset with neon lights. <br />
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Probably the most notable aspect to the interior is the four well-preserved sitting rooms, or snugs, in each corner. All are self-contained and glazed, the two front rooms with windows on to the street, something unique in this country I believe. One of these is designated as a ladies room, the other, is unfortunately, in use as a storeroom. There is also a jug bar. With all these wonders it is easy to fail to notice the two Art Deco fireplaces, notable features in their own right.<br />
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There is no denying that the bar is operating at a level far below that of its heyday and this is reflected in the rather cheap, harsh strip lighting under the canopy and indeed the whole of the interior. It is also unfortunate, though unsurprising, that the original terrazzo flooring is long gone. <br />
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The last but one time I visited the Portland, I was on my own and smartly dressed in a winter coat and crisp white shirt and happy with my appearance. A few guys in their early 20s, who looked to be in the know, were smoking at the entrance and one of them, noticing me as I passed, greeted me thus – “Alright, slick?” I smiled and nodded, glad that someone else had appreciated my look, even if it was not entirely what he meant. <br />
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Inside, there were quite a few other colourful characters and after my visit I made the following notes – “Within minutes you realise that this joint contains the highest concentration of reprobates and rogues since the last meeting of the Privy Council. To be more specific, the denizens here can be split into two categories: those who are barred from the Railway Tavern, and those who should barred from the Railway Tavern.” <br />
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But on my most recent visit to the Portland, a Saturday in late April, things were different; the bar staff more attentive, the clientele rather less forbidding, a unity amongst all the punters creating a far more relaxed vibe, an atmosphere that this wonderful interior deserves.<br />
There are other notable bars along Shettleston Road. I have in the past confused The Drum and The Town Tavern pubs, being not too far apart. I prefer the latter for its attractive bar staff, ingenious wee patio and various malts priced at £3 a pop.<br />
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Venture off the main road and The Palaceum Bar might be your choice for refreshment. I’ve done that once…<br />
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Ahem... but returning to Shettleston Road, The Cottage Bar is well-known, even to non-drinkers. That relates to the Arthur Thompson/Paul Ferris gangland saga, that has spawned more bad books and films than Jack the Ripper.<br />
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My first time in the Cottage was around 15 years back, a full decade after the lethal end of that feud. After a couple of beers I decided to ask a few punters what they knew of the case. The first guy said nothing, the second pointedly ignored me, the third told me to GTF. I took that as the cue to drain and split. <br />
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A little lesson learned, you could say, and one that I keep close as I continue to tramp the streets documenting the life and times of bars in Shettleston and beyond.<br />
The Pledgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07695094890563847119noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4186167151280687868.post-73456192893737758322017-01-26T10:19:00.002+00:002017-01-26T10:19:44.921+00:00Renfrew By Ferry<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxxwTpYZmqGXxZP3CwZqoWoGW_qWp-3vr4iPynDvXsiX9D-CA7qSN12UudGFRpmH41Y3wzzo0HlMecAUb8x4WfN_ZcUn_j0AWB10EmetJxxdjp4xdqQu6j58Qk_YTROjc8DSCnOUx-OirB/s1600/20161029_143333.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxxwTpYZmqGXxZP3CwZqoWoGW_qWp-3vr4iPynDvXsiX9D-CA7qSN12UudGFRpmH41Y3wzzo0HlMecAUb8x4WfN_ZcUn_j0AWB10EmetJxxdjp4xdqQu6j58Qk_YTROjc8DSCnOUx-OirB/s320/20161029_143333.jpg" width="320" height="180" /></a></div><br />
The Ferry Inn, 1 Clyde Street, Renfrew PA4 8SL<br />
Pickwicks Bar, 7 Meadowside Street, PA4 8SP<br />
Cottons Bar, 27 Ferry Road, PA4 8SA<br />
The Black Bull, 18-20 Canal Street, PA4 8QD<br />
Luna Rossa, 1-3 Canal Street, PA4 8QE<br />
The Kind Man's, 25 Hairst Street, PA4 8QU<br />
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Standing at the back of the only urban ferry in Scotland I looked across the river at my first pub of the day. The Ferry Inn, Renfrew, is its unsurprising name. <br />
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It was 2.30pm. It was only a 5-minute stroll to the Yoker-Renfrew Ferry and a wait of a couple of minutes for the small craft to cross the Clyde to pick me up. There was a ferryman and a trainee on board. I chatted to the younger guy as we made the short sail. He asked me if I remembered the previous ferry. I replied that I remembered the car ferry from the ‘70s. He looked closely at me, shaking his head. Well, I don’t get plenty of sleep and drink lots of water.<br />
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Talk moved onto a proposed bridge from Yoker to Braehead. Renfrew locals see this as a lifeline for their town and there is even discussion of moving the town hall to Braehead. This plan was repeated to me by the bar manager in the Ferry Inn beer garden, some 20 minutes later. I had already sat in front of the fire for the first few draughts of my first pint, the inn surely one of the few pubs left in Glasgow with a real, operating fireplace. The fireside and the recessed window seats are the best spots in this joint, which is let down a little by the widespread use of Artex. The beer garden isn’t particularly pleasing to look at either but functional. And talking of functions, there was much chat amongst the staff about their do that night, a Halloween party (this being the closest weekend night to that date) but I couldn’t hang around, I was soon away up the main road to Renfrew town centre.<br />
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I soon turned off onto Meadowside Street, though, to take in Pickwicks, an isolated pub beneath an isolated tenement block. You get the picture. Inside it’s big but not too impressive with numerous modern touches that don’t work – such as a false ceiling and a cheap, light- wood counter. It might be an OK place to watch the football and other big events but that’s about it, I think. There’s also a strange notice stating that there is no entry after midnight. I can’t think there is much demand for that but maybe I’m misjudging the area.<br />
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Cottons, which is back on the main road towards the town centre, is a better stop than Pickwick’s, without a doubt. This pub is split in two, the right-hand section a cosy public bar, full of atmosphere even around 4 o’clock in the afternoon, and somewhere where tartan carpet actually works in an urban setting. There were obvious regulars dotted all over, but there was no cliquey feel about the place. <br />
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The pub has a decent beer garden so I set off through the second half of Cottons to find it. A barman, though surprised by my request, opened the appropriate door on the far side of the restaurant/function half of the joint. A few wooden tables and benches in gravel made up the garden. A bit bleak but what could you expect late October?<br />
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I lasted 25 minutes outside, long enough for half a robusto, before returning through the pub to the exit. Cottons is worth a return. <br />
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So is the Black Bull, a pub a few hundred yards further on, in the middle of what you could regard as the town centre. It’s got a wide whitewashed frontage and has no functioning windows. Two doors too, on either side of what I think is the close entrance for tenement flats upstairs. So, I tried the first door. Inside was a very small space with a very small counter. Something made me walk straight out and try the next door. This reason wasn’t booze, it was only 4.30 and I’d had barely three pints. <br />
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The second door led to a slightly larger space, this differing from the first in that it had people in it, around 20 or so. I walked to the far end of the bar counter and ordered. Beside me were an attractive couple. The guy, 50-odd, and his younger partner - long brown hair and tall – were in easy conversation. Normally I would have attempted what I imaginatively describe as “the eavesdrop” but this time it felt wrong, they looked so attuned. Most of the rest in the bar were older single guys but there were a group of three women in their 30s near the door. <br />
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After getting my pint I left it on the counter and investigated the layout. Soon I discovered the reason for the unusual double frontage – there’s a passage at the back (no laughing, please) that links this room with the smaller one. How it manages to circumvent the close, I don’t know, but it is an interesting quirk. As is what can be described as a darts alley, an oche and dartboard separated from the rest of the saloon by a screen. Don’t know if this is for safety reasons or it is just a design flourish. Anyway, I like it. <br />
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And I liked the Black Bull in general, a well-timbered interior populated by folk motivated by chat, rubbing shoulders and a comforting booze-up of a Saturday late afternoon. The evening promised even more fun. Whether the Black Bull would actually provide it is irrelevant, the promise was all.<br />
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On the other side of the road is the Luna Rossa, a completely different joint. It markets itself as a cocktail bar and bistro and is owned by the family behind the nearby Piccolo Mondo restaurant, which itself has a sister eatery in Glasgow city centre. <br />
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Dark wood panelling, red upholstery and a gantry and cabinets stuffed with premium spirit and wine brands reflect the owners’ purpose here – give the wealthy locals of this part of Renfrewshire a place to rival the fleshpots of the city, a place to flash the cash and impress. And why not? Often in Scottish towns outside the cities, the local Italian restaurant is the place people go for special occasions and slap-up Saturday night dinners, and I think Piccolo Mondo fits that bill here in Renfrew. So, the family now have seemingly cornered the market for premium food and drink in the town.<br />
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I sat on one of the bar stools, took five minutes to examine the drink list, then ordered a Disarrono Royale and watched the barman prepare. It’s an easy drink to make but the guy didn’t quite have the accomplished air of some of his city equivalents, and as for the drink itself, it needed some fruit accompaniment. <br />
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This was now 5.30 and various people were popping in and chatting to staff, as if arranging their visits later. I won’t say I felt left out by these interactions but I was given less attention than these obvious regulars. And my departure was unnoticed, not even the barman enquired if I wanted another. Perhaps they are satisfied with their regulars’ custom – a risky attitude to have in the licensed trade. <br />
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My last visit in Renfrew was The Kind Man’s, back over the road again. It’s a no-nonsense joint with one circular bar serving what is, in effect, two separate rooms. The chequered floor is a pleasant feature which I imagine is original, and the prices are reasonable. Now an hour after The Black Bull, the Saturday night atmosphere should really have been greater but the extra space in here dissipated it, that and its more conventional shape. <br />
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Despite that, I was still sorry to leave this pub, and Renfrew itself, when I drained my whisky, but I had a bus to catch. <br />
So, six bars visited, about the same number to visit to complete the set in Renfrew town centre. <br />
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Therefore, my return is guaranteed (the usual provisos withstanding) whether I arrive by boat or not.<br />
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The Pledgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07695094890563847119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4186167151280687868.post-20681250646118060982016-09-29T11:55:00.001+01:002016-09-29T11:55:50.944+01:00The Old Toll Bar Reopens<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4k0VMk-Jcx79bKdJmzaJ3Pmt3RkxueOF9x6pA1dX9V18qg7eiVKImoRPTOqOwXmH-z0oAw3Sgp8bsFzaidf3M3OJ_kBwFRybKWcAtYBUe1YMhplZWsdEjyhMHSj8LVukODy72mxT7107c/s1600/Glasgow-OldTollBar-Gantry.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4k0VMk-Jcx79bKdJmzaJ3Pmt3RkxueOF9x6pA1dX9V18qg7eiVKImoRPTOqOwXmH-z0oAw3Sgp8bsFzaidf3M3OJ_kBwFRybKWcAtYBUe1YMhplZWsdEjyhMHSj8LVukODy72mxT7107c/s320/Glasgow-OldTollBar-Gantry.jpg" width="320" height="213" /></a><br />
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The Old Toll Bar, 1-3 Paisley Road West, Glasgow G51 1LF<br />
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Glasgow only has a handful of historically significant bar interiors left (including The Horseshoe, The Steps, The Railway Tavern, The Portland Arms and The Laurieston) so it’s positive news that one of those, the Old Toll Bar, is to re-open on Saturday (1st October). <br />
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Languishing empty for at least a couple of years, the Old Toll has been comprehensively refurbished by Old Toll Inns Ltd, who have ambitious plans for the joint. <br />
The Old Toll started trading in 1893 (not 1874, as stated on the wall outside) and is probably Scotland’s best example of a trend described as the “palace pubs”, not to be confused with the “gin palaces” of earlier in the 19th century.<br />
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This style of pub aimed to draw people away from the confines of their one-roomed dwellings into grand, impressively designed places of entertainment and booze. Ornaments and fittings of not only great value, but dazzling to the late Victorian/early Edwardian eye were the means by which the owners of these venues attracted large numbers of punters.<br />
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In the case of the Old Toll, etched and painted glass, beautiful advertising mirrors and improbably smooth dark wood are the significant features that will have entranced drinkers over its long lifetime. <br />
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But all of these are surpassed by the bar’s gantry – eight original spirit casks sit high and proud, above recessed sections rendered grotto-like by clever use of light and shade. At the very top, the wood is carved like a ship’s prow and in the centre of this magnificence the Old Toll clock ticks, bearing the bar’s date of birth.<br />
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The new owners are sweeping away the extraneous modern clutter of TVs and fruit machines that obscured the grandeur of the interior. On my last visit to the Old Toll, about five years ago, these new additions were an annoyance, as was the totally abandoned nature of the downstairs lounge and the lacklustre bar service.<br />
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Not that it is easy running a traditional pub in a relatively obscure part of the city, where footfall will never be that of the city centre, this in contrast to earlier times when the pub – as suggested by its name – sat at a toll point of a major turnpike west out of the city. <br />
But the bar doesn’t sit in complete isolation today, there are four or five bars nearby, most notably the Viceroy – itself a little gem of a traditional pub, with Knox brothers’ stained glass from the late-Victorian era and a terrazzo spittoon.<br />
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The other bars in the area show that Rangers’ influence is strong around here, with the triangulation of The Angel, The Quayside and The Union Bar dominating. And unsurprisingly, this association is a long one. One of the Gers’ most famous players, Jim Baxter, was the landlord of a previous incarnation of The Union Bar, and his son, Stephen, was at one time the landlord of The Old Toll Bar itself. As an aside, in my pre-BB days I had a run-in with the latter when he was throwing his not inconsiderable size about. But I’ll leave that story for another time. <br />
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I’m still negotiating with the Muse over my attendance at the Old Toll’s re-opening on Saturday and hoping to be the first inside its walls, but whether I make it or not, it will be fascinating to see if the new owners are successful in their project promising craft beer from small producers like Up Front Brewing and Fallen Brewing; classic cocktails with a modern twist; and old board games and gramophones. If things go well, this chapter in the life of the Old Toll could well be entitled – the past re-energised. The Pledgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07695094890563847119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4186167151280687868.post-19141115574784678582016-09-21T23:27:00.000+01:002016-09-21T23:27:01.041+01:00The West Highlands<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJQ9JlCBU8b2O2cSfNz-ez_X21WJKeKA7jGE98O-y9uMfgiuAsurMAfibzdHSFkYhalnKNjsGZdB27BH54PS4VwUDntQfw_Ieg022K2rLV6CSc5ZfFJtK5lbteZA5fAgs3zAUmbsOnRz30/s1600/20160723_145253.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJQ9JlCBU8b2O2cSfNz-ez_X21WJKeKA7jGE98O-y9uMfgiuAsurMAfibzdHSFkYhalnKNjsGZdB27BH54PS4VwUDntQfw_Ieg022K2rLV6CSc5ZfFJtK5lbteZA5fAgs3zAUmbsOnRz30/s320/20160723_145253.jpg" width="320" height="180" /></a></div><br />
Scotland is equally famous for its mountains as for its drink. And some of us who like the latter also explore the former, even though a pint in the bar after the exertion can be the highlight. But what pubs are worthy of hosting that particular delight?<br />
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Heading north from Glasgow, there are a plenty of options but the A82 offers the best route to the best mountains – those of the West Highlands. In succession you have the Loch Lomond peaks, followed by Ben Lui, Beinn Dorain, the Black Mount, Glencoe, and then on into the heart of Lochaber; crowned by Ben Nevis. <br />
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From Fort William, most drivers, if not hillwalkers, continue up the west shore of Loch Ness, but the best lands lie to the west of that, when you take a left at Invergarry. From there, the road leads to the delights of Kintail, Skye and even Torridon: an impressive list even when omitting the legendary wilderness of Knoydart. <br />
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And along this wondrous route there are indeed hostelries of note, not as many as you might first think, but that is only down to the limited permanent population of the Highlands in general. Here are a few of those pubs…<br />
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At the top of Loch Lomond, the Drovers’ Inn is one of the country’s most well-known and oldest hostelries. However, these two facts don’t excuse it being a draughty, damp and dirty pit of a joint, nor answer the question – why are the staff exclusively Antipodean? It is one of the most overrated pubs in the country and if you do want to stop off in this area, the Ardlui Hotel is a far better option.<br />
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The Drovers’ Inn is over 30 miles from Glasgow, yet you still somehow feel in the Central Belt, that impression only really dispelled as you climb up and away from the loch on the long pull up to Crianlarich. Unfortunately, there isn’t much drinking in that village, nor in the next, Tyndrum, though the Green Welly Stop and the Real Food Café are decent food stops.<br />
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Ten miles further on, The Bridge of Orchy Hotel is a welcoming haven, even if standards of food and drink have dropped over the last decade. Along a dead-end B road there is even more seclusion at the Inveroran Hotel but this remoteness means the bar is mostly very quiet.<br />
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The vast bleakness of the Rannoch Moor is next, and only the Kingshouse Hotel offers any shelter. Its large size means it can lack atmosphere but the humble Climbers’ Bar at the back is worth a pint, the worse the weather the better. It holds a special place in my memory as the place which allowed me the chance to change and recover after a scary tumble into a raging Glen Orchy burn one cold mid-February day.<br />
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The mouth of Glencoe beckons at the west of the moor. Near the bottom of the glen, the Clachaig Inn sits on the edge of the trees that flank the old road to Glencoe village. The Clachaig is up there with the Drovers in the famous stakes, but happily it gets far closer to delivering a good drinking experience. <br />
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There are two bars, the front- of-hotel comfortable type and the enormous back boot bar. Neither are brilliant but with this location, crouched beneath the peaks of Scotland’s most famous glen, they don’t have to be. The back bar, for instance, is really too big to have a sustainable atmosphere but on music nights that space is useful. And somehow, this inn offers a far more pleasurable bar experience if you are staying the night than if you are just passing through, whether you are boozing or not.<br />
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Fort William is next, but I’m not going to waste any time on it, as this dismal outpost surely gets the prize for the biggest negative contrast between town and location anywhere in Britain.<br />
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As the traveller continues north-west, the next bar of note is encountered just beyond Loch Lochy. The Eagle not only has great views of the surrounding hills, but floating on the Caledonian Canal it is one of only a handful of water-bound drinking outlets in the country. I’ve had pleasant afternoons both on deck and in the cosy confines below. The only reason I won’t give it any higher praise is the fact that on a recent visit, on a Sunday in July, it was closed, the owners taking a break without adequate notification of their absence.<br />
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Invergarry is next, at the junction of the A82 and A87. The village contains two hotels, one large, one small, both fine for a beverage of any variety. Turn left here and soon you are rising up beyond the trees to one of the finest roadside views in Scotland. The small layby allows a fantastic vista due west into Knoydart. Those Rough Bounds are arguably the best condensed area of adventurous hill-going in the land but as there is only one pub – The Forge – and that is at the very south of Knoydart, we can fairly leave that place to another kind of writing.<br />
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Instead, the next point of call can be the Cluanie Inn on the approach to Glen Shiel. This hotel, restaurant, bar and bunkhouse has been serving travellers of all sorts for at least a century. It is 15 miles either way from any other sort of habitation and a large part of its charm is this isolation and thus the refuge it gives from the wilds, especially in the dark of a winter night when its lights twinkle tantalisingly from afar as you approach along the lochside road. The focal point of the whole joint is the downstairs section of the whisky bar, get a seat down there if you can.<br />
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Kintail can be said to begin at the other end of Glen Shiel, the western end. The chief accommodation within this delightful district is the Kintail Lodge Hotel. I’ve stayed there three times over the last 15 years or so and enjoyed every visit. It, like Cluanie, also has a bunkhouse to complement the hotel accommodation and that adds to the eclectic nature of the mix of punters.<br />
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The hotel has a nice split personality: fairly refined, almost genteel dining/breakfast rooms with the option of alfresco in the garden; a cosy restaurant; an adjoining bar area with decent long counter, generous seating and a little covered sitooterie. These two latter areas bring all evening guests together, residents, locals and travellers. <br />
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During my latest visit, we enjoyed two nights of the hotel’s hospitality: good food, even better whisky, and engaging conversation with Kintail folk. As with all evenings like these, you know that, largely, most of the chat will soon be forgotten but you hope that at least some of it remains.<br />
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On our first night, the Friday, there was a large contingent of Yorkshire people in the bar and restaurant, this particular group seemingly annual visitors. Good for them, I say. During the course of the evening, the difference between the Scots and our southern neighbours became evident – their natural level of conversation is louder. I don’t think they notice it but we listen and think that nothing deserves that amount of amplification. <br />
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Anyway, by the next afternoon I had forgotten my little observation, perhaps because we were driving over the famous Mam Ratagan pass en route to a bar in a hotel that I had never yet visited before. The Glenelg Inn sits on the peninsula of the same name, a tranquil corner of Scotland sandwiched by Kintail and the Knoydart wilderness. <br />
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It is hard to get to, but not that hard that it should take three attempts, but it has for me; the two previous efforts denied by winter and another less-foreseeable reason I can’t even recall. The inn is worth it, though – complete with low-beamed ceiling, real log fire, pleasant garden and plenty of live music events. <br />
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We settled in for a couple of hours’ stay, sitting out then in, as the only rain shower of the weekend passed over. But then, who was inside but the same Yorkshire group as last night. They were, we found out later, staying in the inn, and they didn’t look too pleased at us breaking up their private party. Oh, well, we all have to be tolerant, you know, even of irritating neighbours. <br />
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After another enjoyable evening in The Kintail Lodge Hotel, we were done and dusted with our trip but took a slight detour past Eilean Donan Castle to a favourite viewpoint of mine. Nearby, we supped at The Dornie Inn. This is an unremarkable village pub but it sits at the meeting point of three lochs, Loch Alsh, Loch Long and Loch Duich – an enchanting spot. <br />
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And that is the point of these Highland pubs I’ve spent much time surveying. They aren’t distinguished by their housing nor by their interiors. Not even by the booze they sell. Their location is all, and that is – easily - enough for me.<br />
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The Pledgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07695094890563847119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4186167151280687868.post-49629461081971781872016-05-19T23:24:00.000+01:002016-05-19T23:24:20.515+01:00Woodlands Road - West on the Corner & The ArlingtonWest on the Corner, 160 Woodlands Road, G3 6LF<br />
The Arlington, 130 Woodlands Road, G3 6HB<br />
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Some roads are only widely known for where they take you, rather than for themselves or what they contain. Woodlands Road is one of them. It links the West End with Charing Cross and hence the city centre. <br />
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In way, it is a bit like the Finnieston stretch of Argyle Street used to be, before that drag became so hip and featured in all the magazines. But perhaps because Woodlands Road isn’t able to have a concentration of shops and food/drink outlets, being lined by the northern edge of Kelvingrove Park, such a transformation is unlikely. <br />
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Still, that isn’t to say that nothing happens on this road. At the eastern end, Uisge Beatha was replaced by Dram! just a few years back. The original pub wasn’t a particular fave of mine but it could claim to be unique in this city, Highland kitsch isn’t common in Glasgow. Now, Stonegate have it, having acquired it from the late Maclay Group. Nothing unique about Dram! but plenty of blandness, rest assured.<br />
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Further east, another multiple operator has moved in fairly recently. And again, the pub making way was a place of some repute. The Halt was its name. And it had one of the best-preserved interiors in the city including a beautiful U-shaped bar counter in dark wood and a wood-panelled snug.<br />
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What made the Halt even more notable was its clientele – the type of punters not normally associated with a traditional bar. West End dropouts you might call them. Crusties was another, less charitable, name. The ones I knew of, and went to school with, were just too young to have fully participated in punk but they held some of that attitude. Of course, most have drifted away over the years, or lost the faith, but I did see a familiar soul or two anytime I was in the area. <br />
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The main bar was adjoined by a function space that hosted some decent live music, often of the more raucous type. All in all, a joint worth a good few hours of your time, day or night. <br />
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It was common knowledge over more recent years that the Halt was struggling. Various plans were mooted for its revival. But nothing concrete until the burgeoning West operation (brewery and huge, but atmospheric bar at the Templeton Building, Glasgow Green) announced it was opening as a pop-up bar in the Halt premises, with the intention of making it a permanent affair. <br />
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In moved the refurbishers to rip out the soul of the old pub. In the place of venerable dark wood, and brass fittings they inserted an interior befitting a college cafeteria, minus the warmth. <br />
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Every angle is covered with cheap-looking, light-coloured wood and tabletops covered by something reminiscent of Formica, without the nod to nostalgia. Grey lampshades are scattered here and there, reflecting the haphazard nature of the total refurb. So bad, that the superb original wooden floor is rendered bereft. <br />
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The disheartening theme continues behind the bar with a completely unoriginal steel gantry that although well-stocked does not tempt you to discover any of its delights. <br />
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But on my first visit to West on the corner, as it’s now called, I of course did sample some of that alcohol. I went low-strength, for convenience sake and soon regretted that decision – the West Somme going as close to carbonated water as Trading Standards will probably allow, a real waste of barley. Of course, most West beers are reasonably good, and I agree with the concept of low-strength beers, but this version is a brewing failure.<br />
<br />
Next door, in the former events space, is a slightly more elegant room in which the full food menu is served. Although the German menu is quite a novelty in this city, it is still just another restaurant serving middle-of-the-road fare, something that is not a rarity in this city, whereas decent live-music venues are dwindling in numbers.<br />
<br />
No comprehensive BB bar visit is complete without a toilet inspection and downstairs I did just that. The red tiling contained within is easily the best design feature of the whole joint. That tells you something.<br />
<br />
Down there, I recalled the anecdote that during the gutting of this place’s beautiful fixtures and fittings, the builder/desecrator was given the old bar to keep. Lucky for him, fuck the rest of us.<br />
<br />
A hundred yards further along Woodlands Road in the direction of town is The Arlington, and hardly a starker contrast with West on the Corner can be imagined. <br />
<br />
The Arlington has had a number of refurbs over the decades but I think its present look is the best of the lot of them – a bit of a midden, really, and all the better for it, because that’s what its punters want, an antidote to the rest of the West End. They want a place you can get drunk in without bothering if you spill some of your lager on the floor or you bundle over a chair or two as you stumble to the bar. <br />
<br />
And they, in this outpost of counter-culture in this district of Glasgow, don’t care if the lighting is pretty decrepit – the fairy lights, for instance, quite ridiculous – or the furniture the cheap side of rickety, or the drink brands the very opposite of premium.<br />
<br />
Craft-beer snobs would scoff at the drinks selection which includes the Arlington’s own Stone of Destiny lager (£2.70) which plays on the urban legend of the true resting place of that relic. The fact that the bar lets you pay for that particular pint with Scotcoin tells you a little bit more about the ethos of this bar. <br />
<br />
In here you get misfits, dropouts, serious drinkers, ex-Halt-goers (probably), OAPs on a Wednesday afternoon pub crawl, down-at-luck salesmen with glassy eyes stuck in the corner with two pints for company, and just old-fashioned party animals partaking in concoctions like a Bucky Bomb.<br />
<br />
The most recent time I was in, on a Wednesday afternoon, the handful of punters, who before entering the Arlington had mostly been strangers, were crowded around the bar chatting, laughing and drinking together. Down the road at West on the Corner, there was a similar number of customers but they remained separate, each little party of one, two, three or four keeping to their own table – circulation seemingly an impossible thing as they sipped and sipped and sipped…<br />
<br />
The difference between the two joints thus confirmed in those two snapshots – and it tempts me to say that in The Arlington they have a good time, in West on the Corner they just think they do.<br />
The Pledgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07695094890563847119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4186167151280687868.post-45732312755143729432016-02-09T12:09:00.000+00:002016-02-09T12:09:07.277+00:00Sunny Dalmuir<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPhTrCebJvj0f0hqtxFzQT4eZJhZCakMUz1fnANj_hnlzCERh193HzGobUgCj9bwDKiw4a_uWVLZzs81OzOpm6bYi1X4_r5mvZP0ZlV1WMPcPQL6pmxgh3UGnusBYnl46OfLuuVnrMw3tX/s1600/20150910_153426.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPhTrCebJvj0f0hqtxFzQT4eZJhZCakMUz1fnANj_hnlzCERh193HzGobUgCj9bwDKiw4a_uWVLZzs81OzOpm6bYi1X4_r5mvZP0ZlV1WMPcPQL6pmxgh3UGnusBYnl46OfLuuVnrMw3tX/s320/20150910_153426.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Mountblow Bar, 832 Dumbarton Road, Clydebank, G81 4BS<br />
Macintosh's Bar, 2-4 Swindon Street, Clydebank, G81<br />
The Horse & Barge, 688 Dumbarton Road, Clydebank, G81<br />
<br />
<br />
Clydebank gets by - just. Post-industrial may sum it up. The heavy industry has gone decades ago and nothing substantial ever really took its place. The town’s ‘centre’ is the shopping complex bulked up by leisure sites such as the cinema, bowling and Playdrome. The retail <br />
experience here is a notch below that of, say, Braehead. <br />
<br />
There’s a few modest business parks, a large college, two or three railway stations and very little else of commercial note. Quite a stepdown in prominence for a town specifically targeted by the Luftwaffe due to its extraordinary concentration of shipbuilding and other heavy industry.<br />
<br />
Bordering Yoker and Drumchapel, Clydebank can be regarded as an extension of the Greater Glasgow conurbation but older Bankies, especially, would object to this description. However, the town does provide cheaper housing than in the neighbouring city thus allowing many folk the opportunity to be able to use the amenities and attractions of Glasgow without paying the premium for being within the city boundary.<br />
<br />
On weekend nights, particularly, taxis, buses and trains ferry lots of Bankies into Glasgow to enjoy some nightlife, many only going as far as Partick, but I’m not interested in that phenomenon here – I’m looking at the places that will attract and keep locals. This time I’m concentrating on Dalmuir and Mountblow, the districts at the far west end of Clydebank.<br />
<br />
Contrary to received wisdom a place like Clydebank should have a multitude of bars, but that number barely reaches double figures. And for a population of around 45,000, that is a relatively low number, well below my rule of thumb of one pub per 1,000 people. <br />
<br />
Dalmuir has three of that number, all located on or near the main road through lower Clydebank – Dumbarton Road. The furthest west is The Mountblow, situated on a quiet corner. <br />
<br />
<br />
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The blinds were down as I approached. Not for my benefit, I realised, but slightly off-putting nevertheless. As if to emphasise this impression, my entrance elicited a few light sniggers and knowing looks between the barmaid and handful of punters. But exposure of this sort is momentary and has to be got over if you want to be a successful or indeed a non-successful bar reviewer of any kind.<br />
<br />
And the blinds on this unusually sunny September Thursday served to filter the light in such a way as to render the brown interior pleasingly dusty, rather like a laid-back drink shack of the Southern United States. <br />
<br />
I ordered my pint quickly and used the pouring time to establish that the US link was continued by the fair number of framed photos of Yank iconography such as an Ali v Liston – the second fight, I believe. <br />
<br />
I sat under the snooker scorer that had lost its table. But sport of some sort goes on here, or at least amongst the punters, if the collection of trophies on the gantry is an indication. <br />
<br />
Beside them are a distinctive row of pewter tankards and bells. I never quite felt able to ask to whom these belonged or if there was something down the stairs directly in front of my seat other than just a storeroom. <br />
<br />
Many books are stuffed into available shelf and window-ledge space but it is a measure of this joint that I made no move to peruse the collection let alone buy another pint and actually start reading one of them. <br />
<br />
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So I was up and away in under half an hour, heading east to the next one on the list – Mackintosh’s, which is adjacent to a dreary selection of shops.<br />
The exterior of Mackintosh’s is gloomy, the dark cladding overpowering the small windows. But this look is pretty typical of bars in outlying urban areas that have undergone ‘60s, ‘70s redevelopment. <br />
<br />
Inside is probably of a vintage a decade or two antecedent to the exterior – very basic light wooden furniture and a basic glass gantry with probably the smallest selection of spirits I’ve seen in a bar since the 1990s. <br />
<br />
But not holding that against the place too much, you have here a joint far busier than the last, with a more inclusive atmosphere to boot, new faces coming in and out in the time I was there, a revolving, evolving collection of punters one could say. Quite unlike The Mountblow. <br />
<br />
In the raised area there was some serious dominoes going on – no blood was likely to be spilt, largely because of the 8 blokes in the two groups at least 5 would be on warfarin – but as close to that state of strife as is possible otherwise. <br />
<br />
A more convivial recreation is the twice-weekly fish-tea dinner dances (adults only) advertised on Mackintosh’s exterior and these occur, I believe, in the large lounge area to the side of the saloon bar. The lounge is extensive but doesn’t appear to be in regular use, apart from those fish-tea extravaganzas on Tuesdays and Fridays. <br />
<br />
But this was Thursday. I had to go. Leave. Be on my way. There was one more to do today. The Horse and Barge by name, previously O’Kane’s. The biggest of the three, so large that the space taken up/lost by a pool table is hardly missed. <br />
<br />
This spaciousness is exaggerated by the large windows that go right around the corner from the main road to the side street. Probably cold and draughty in the winter but on this day of sunshine a pleasant warmth and light engulfs the whole joint, most particularly in the raised area of tables nearest to the windows.<br />
<br />
The heat made me wish you could enjoy a drink or two outside, perhaps with a view of the nearby Forth and Clyde Canal from which this pub derives its name, but in Clydebank there is next to no outside provision, apart from a few chairs outside a couple of establishments near the bus station. <br />
<br />
But at least this keeps one’s attention focussed on the interior. And in here the main point of interest is the snugs, or departments as they used to be called in old-pub nomenclature.<br />
<br />
I edged around them trying to see if there was access to any of the three of them, or even if they actually were snugs. Was I mistaken? <br />
One has its door slightly ajar and I peer in, but all I see are brushes and a mop before the aperture creaks closed. I decline to ask at the bar about the true nature of these features and instead take my pint of 70 and chaser of Scottish Leader up to the raised area.<br />
<br />
The 70-shilling was spectacularly off but I didn’t let it bother me. I sat and looked around and wondered if the two blokes sitting at separate tables were prosperous retirees who had just strolled down the hill from the bungalow-heavy district of Overton for a quiet pint or a whisky and Irn Bru with their papers and mobiles. <br />
<br />
Hurricanes and the 1968 riots are on the TV but the atmosphere is contemplative and tranquil and somehow it gets more so as over the shoulder of one of those gents I spot a holiday jet rise high into the sky without a cloud to obscure its climb to the heavens. I could almost imagine being in that plane, leaning back in my seat, resting my head – ten seconds later closing my eyes…<br />
The Pledgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07695094890563847119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4186167151280687868.post-53400278248992625612015-10-29T22:33:00.000+00:002015-10-30T21:52:18.858+00:00Dennistoun Duke Street - Old v New - Part Two<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSaCdPDu7KG8vuwlpIimL7R8qOgT_EMcuVX43N0NksX8Bkn86kNx5GkHEsQsVVPm5LQpRW2IfUgjx0mtfnSWd1kz9-THLqVOQnXglNl9Dz3hyrhBw_bDUx_GzQ9Wn5WS7CKge9dDZ01jkB/s1600/2014-08-22+15.02.14.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSaCdPDu7KG8vuwlpIimL7R8qOgT_EMcuVX43N0NksX8Bkn86kNx5GkHEsQsVVPm5LQpRW2IfUgjx0mtfnSWd1kz9-THLqVOQnXglNl9Dz3hyrhBw_bDUx_GzQ9Wn5WS7CKge9dDZ01jkB/s320/2014-08-22+15.02.14.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
Redmond's, 304 Duke Street, Glasgow G31<br />
The Duchess of Duke Street,380 Duke Street, Glasgow G31<br />
The Vintage at Drygate, 85 Drygate, Glasgow G4<br />
<br />
“Eh, I haven’t been that far along the street,” said the barman in Redmond’s, the newest bar on Duke Street, Dennistoun. I had recognised him from Bo Bar and a number of other West End joints, but now he had headed east, and judging from the general thrust of his conversation he felt that he was now part of where it was “at”, the new place to be. <br />
<br />
He had mentioned the Duchess Of Duke Street and Bar-B-Que - and The Vintage at Drygate back towards town beside the Tennent’s brewery. But as soon as I told him my pals and I had, that evening, been in the Alexandra and The Crown Creighton, he suddenly became reticent. As if an iron curtain was in place halfway along the Dennistoun stretch of Duke Street, and a corresponding division in his mind between one half of the area and the other.<br />
<br />
Redmond’s is clearly in the incomers’ camp, the large variety of craft beers on draught and in bottle, and the emphasis upon food the obvious clues. Its interior is simple, verging on basic, with a low ceiling, cheap-looking booth partitions, and a bluey grey colour scheme. The statement seems to be, “Forget the interior, it’s all about the beer.” <br />
<br />
But more could have been done in here, rather than just mimicking Brewdog. There is a recessed den-like area decorated with a mosaic wallpaper – the owners were conducting a family meeting in it the first afternoon I visited Redmond’s – but it needs more, it needs a striking feature or a creative deployment of seating to make it a true focal point. And the toilets need more than just the partial refurb they have been given.<br />
<br />
On that same afternoon, a guy walked in looking slightly bewildered, seemingly unaware of the new premises and the changes from when this was Isa’s Bar or Molly’s Bar or the New Variety. He went up to the bar, nonetheless, and ordered…a Smirnoff Ice. I sucked my teeth in anticipation. Others –drinking snobs – would have laughed inwardly at the unsophistication of the guy. But that was what he wanted to drink. No comment required.<br />
Of course, Redmond’s don’t stock alcopops. The barman did his best to sound apologetic but the bloke was out the door in less than five seconds, not waiting to hear of any alternatives if such an attempt was going to be made to suggest them. As a new bar it’s all very being “true to your ethos” as innumerable ad slogans declare, but you still have to offer things to punters who’ve experienced the old place.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqfta3i3srqDgUppX7ozUX3bq30eISI2DgVCEo4CMSpJmOEbpbYo50YZVPfgGb5QDA_MjO9TZJMYzZ-0vL61ZcuPRVEG5OhlqEeW4kTHk3Gw5aUeR8U0DTF_0El9r0WkYJAXvFtdkVhLEU/s1600/2014-08-22+13.45.35.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqfta3i3srqDgUppX7ozUX3bq30eISI2DgVCEo4CMSpJmOEbpbYo50YZVPfgGb5QDA_MjO9TZJMYzZ-0vL61ZcuPRVEG5OhlqEeW4kTHk3Gw5aUeR8U0DTF_0El9r0WkYJAXvFtdkVhLEU/s320/2014-08-22+13.45.35.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
The Duchess of Duke Street, just along the street (but not too far), seems to fit in with area’s history a little better, even allowing for the name being borrowed from a ‘70s TV series set in Edwardian London. Inhabiting the premises of Mills Bar, it is painted black with decent hanging baskets giving the place a substantial, refined appearance, this added to by a pleasant use of dark wood inside. <br />
<br />
I also like the full-length glass retractable doors that allow a wide panel opening to enjoy some sun and air, prevailing wind allowing. Other things that work include the slashes of green in the lightshades, the velvet corner of the room, and the boxed whiskies in the gantry. Less impressive elements include the incongruous table top on a barrel, the cut-price toilet refurb and the tearoom look of the main eating area.<br />
<br />
Not that this last bit seemed to bother the fair number of folk eating well as I drank. Most of their number were women, perhaps some of the growing number of “ladies who lunch” in Dennistoun. There is a standard list of cocktails in the Duchess at £5.50 – a reasonable price. And the draught beer comes in at the low 3s, with the ‘craft’ beer bottles at a price slightly below what you would pay in the City Centre or West End.<br />
<br />
A bearded one had walked in during my more intense observations. His more regular venue was probably The Vintage - that flagbearer of change east of High Street. I recently met a founder member of that enterprise – he now helps drive the development of the Spit/Fire Bar in Edinburgh. Both these joints are interesting spaces with innovative marketing and drink creations/selections. But for some unexplainable reason the two of them are as sterile as the brewing vessels in The Vintage.<br />
<br />
And the same tag can be applied to many incoming bars – a severe lack of revelry contained within their walls. I could demonstrate it across the world, if the day (or night) ever comes when I am paid handsomely to tour and review. <br />
<br />
They are riding a wave called “gentrification” that mostly destroys more than it creates. OK, bars are just one small component of the whole phenomenon, but they demonstrate the vacuum that the process can bring to an area or a community. <br />
<br />
At their worst, these pubs possess no edge, no warmth, no excitement, no welcome, no frisson, no communality. They provide no reference to place or past and render their target area as just another offshoot amongst countless offshoots of the area deemed to be the most fashionable in present existence.<br />
<br />
I went on record around a year ago in forecasting Dennistoun as being the “next Finnieston.” Often, being right is no comfort. <br />
The Pledgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07695094890563847119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4186167151280687868.post-39181464052668916312015-09-03T13:07:00.001+01:002015-09-03T13:07:35.657+01:00Dennistoun Duke Street - Old v New - Part One<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8dqugG_ItA4t9diRhsdLQ7fAFVW7Z-tyDz2Pl5UjKWbMEIl9aZSu0Rgc3UrNR30S1g3uvaXHSlmPdBnr29S4jl1BVPtsgmwIZ3QfHggLVkSYuC3LUX8E-U-meBlbJciCVMa-hxh68yM02/s1600/2014-08-22+13.18.06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8dqugG_ItA4t9diRhsdLQ7fAFVW7Z-tyDz2Pl5UjKWbMEIl9aZSu0Rgc3UrNR30S1g3uvaXHSlmPdBnr29S4jl1BVPtsgmwIZ3QfHggLVkSYuC3LUX8E-U-meBlbJciCVMa-hxh68yM02/s320/2014-08-22+13.18.06.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Alexandra Bar, 468 Duke Street, Glasgow G31<br />
The Crown Creighton, 480 Duke Street<br />
The Duke, 631 Duke Street<br />
The Snug, 402 Duke Street<br />
Garvale Inn, 187 Reidvale Street, Glasgow G31<br />
<br />
Duke Street is a famous thoroughfare, as far as Scottish thoroughfares fare in popular consciousness. Thanks to a number of articles and documentaries – most notably the excellent The History of Our Streets – it is now widely known to be the longest street in the UK. But a few other, more interesting, facts emerged, too. <br />
<br />
For instance, Britain’s first housing association was formed in the Dennistoun area around Duke Street in the 1960s, and Duke Street and its environs were originally designed – in Victorian times - as a bucolic overflow from the overcrowding and squalor of areas nearer the centre of Glasgow such as High Street and Saltmarket. <br />
<br />
Gardens and squares surrounded by large houses and substantial terraces characterise the area north of the street, while more standard “working class” tenements fill in on the south between Duke Street and the railway line. This dichotomy defines Dennistoun, and perhaps explains why all the pubs are on the south side of Duke Street and any cafes and restaurants to the north.<br />
<br />
<br />
Ever since house prices the west end of the city really began to rocket, north Dennistoun has increasingly become an overflow from that part of town. But that is only one way of looking at it. Perhaps that class of people were there from the very origins of the district and it’s only now that the microscope of 21st-century social inquiry has been employed we outsiders can observe and comment fully.<br />
<br />
Whatever the truth, Dennistoun is now, as before, at the front end of urban change. And the fortunes of its pubs, of course, reflect that. <br />
<br />
Bars such as the The Alexandra, The Duke and the Crown Creighton have been watering Dennsitoun’s citizens since at least the late 1800’s, as old as the tenements housing them. <br />
<br />
In the heyday of Glasgow pubs, local demand and travelling workers would have kept these bars buzzing and thriving. The slow decline since then means they are much quieter, especially midweek. And the area lacks the kind of passing trade only enjoyed by the city centre and west end.<br />
<br />
On the occasions that I have been that passing trade, the impression is that these are definitely ‘locals’ much as I hate using that term. Punters know each other and the staff. But not to the exclusion of everyone else. A pretty good state of things.<br />
<br />
Of the well-established Dennistoun joints The Alexandra is the largest and most notable. Trading since 1891 under the same name, it shares its title with the main road running parallel to Duke Street – Alexandra Parade.<br />
<br />
Inside its walls there are two rooms, one with relatively modern décor and a blue-baize pool table, the other larger area with a large island bar and more traditional fittings and appearance. Elements that make up a decent-looking pub of this era – a tidy gantry, red ceilings with gold cornicing, red leather banquettes and elegant booths – are all present. And I am reminded of another bar in another city, The Central Bar in Leith. Both places that are perhaps past their best days but which still present excellent examples of pub architecture. <br />
<br />
Prices are good - £2.70 a pint of basic draught lagers and beers and signs let you know that “All bottled beers = 50 bob”. A downside is, however, the very limited whisky selection. Very poor for one’s national drink. <br />
<br />
From my knowledge, the Alexandra is the busiest bar in the area, and its numerous TVs allow it to cater for the big-match demand. Saturdays can still get pretty busy around here, with or without football.<br />
<br />
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The Duke and the Crown Creighton have more modest interiors, and share an understated clientele. Of the two – The Duke, with its rapidly crumbling exterior looks the one most likely to be at risk of closure. <br />
<br />
These three are located at the eastern end of the Dennistoun stretch of Duke Street. The Snug is a little further west. It shares the more upbeat atmosphere of The Alexandra, condensed into a far smaller interior. For some years the property lay empty, after the demise of the original – Ramsay’s – a mainstay of the area, owned firstly by the eponymous John Ramsay, a well-regarded publican who blended his own whisky in the cellars.<br />
<br />
Traditionalists might think that was that for Dennistoun, but they could delve a little more and find one more example of an unfashionable bar. Down a side street – Garfield Street – is the Garvale Inn, an obscure place that even the most comprehensive of bar guides seem to have forgotten.<br />
<br />
We’ve all heard of the apocryphal “one man and his dog” in the context of pubs. This place is so tiny that such a couple would take up around 20% of the available space.<br />
Not that that is an issue for me, most of the best bars are on the small side, but the Garvale’s modest dimensions are accompanied by an air of limited resources, too.<br />
<br />
There is room for a TV and a dart board, but these feel like an extravagance in here. Even more sorry is the small, ill-composed photo montage of “good times” like one sees in many holiday bars, along with the paper currency of innumerable countries pinned to the ceiling. <br />
<br />
No notes are on display here, however, again it would feel like an affront to the parlous state of the place and its punters. Approaching the counter, I couldn’t see any pumps – “Perhaps this place can’t even afford draught beer,” I thought. But they were there, a guy sitting at the bar had obscured my view. As it happened, the Best was off, no matter, I took a cheap lager instead.<br />
<br />
This joint appears like a community initiative, a venture to give locals a place to go to during long afternoons – with no thought to profit and loss. Who knows how much the Garvale makes or loses, but pubs like this used to do OK, and there were hundreds like it all across the city.<br />
<br />
But the bar business isn’t like it used to be, as I will show when I look at the newcomers to Duke Street in my next blog.<br />
<br />
The Pledgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07695094890563847119noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4186167151280687868.post-69820022167728652752015-04-24T22:08:00.000+01:002015-04-24T22:08:43.720+01:00Free Strathbungo<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYkcWOaO-D3cYT8bVtT07QOODcRgpE2pAAsREcEpD9hlXpEWT3XMux7dnfIRin3Mrp9OiZS6YCn4vADknslx03RW5LfaxCxVCOC3YogkCxa1q8QIPfJVzoJiYcvp6hke5ij6UA-ZZ4POhq/s1600/2015-02-18+13.12.45.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYkcWOaO-D3cYT8bVtT07QOODcRgpE2pAAsREcEpD9hlXpEWT3XMux7dnfIRin3Mrp9OiZS6YCn4vADknslx03RW5LfaxCxVCOC3YogkCxa1q8QIPfJVzoJiYcvp6hke5ij6UA-ZZ4POhq/s320/2015-02-18+13.12.45.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
The Rum Shack, 657-659 Pollokshaws Road, Glasgow G41 2AB<br />
The Allison Arms, 720 Pollokshaws Road, G41 2AD<br />
Heraghty's Bar, 708 Pollokshaws Road, G41 2AD<br />
Kelly's Bar, 686-688 Pollokshaws Road, G41 2QB<br />
The Salisbury Bar, 72 Nithsdale Road, G41 2AN<br />
<br />
<br />
I neglect the Southside. Just like some people neglect an unassuming cousin or an earnest columnist. Every so often – of course – a new bar opens and my interest is piqued – for an hour or two. Sometimes longer, if there is a concerted development in an area. <br />
<br />
The last time this occurred was over a decade ago around Shawlands Cross, the Southside’s only real nightlife hub. Since then, things have quietened in that particular zone, partly due to the recession.<br />
<br />
The most recent scene of activity is further up Pollokshaws Road, at Strathbungo. The Bungo, for instance, on Nithsdale Road is at the forefront of a number of bars, restaurants and innumerable coffee shops opening here in the last three to four years.<br />
<br />
Being part of a mini-empire including The Left Bank (Gibson Street) and The Two Figs (lower Byres Road), it has a relatively high profile, a large flexible interior and a downstairs space that has been utilised for a variety of arts events. Add to that the fact that I ate one of the best curries of my life (Goan fish) in The Left Bank and I should like The Bungo. <br />
<br />
But it lacks the edge you feel in the best bars, it’s a little too respectable. And it does feel like a West End import. Also, I had an unpleasant confrontation with one of the co-owners when she was a humble barperson at Oran Mor. She took great exception to me exploring the about-to-open brasserie/wine bar. Thus, I am reluctant to ever add another penny to her fortune by imbibing in any of her establishments.<br />
<br />
Over Nithsdale Road is The Salisbury. Previously a coffee shop called Cookie, this re-invention is notable for its large selection of gins. Despite the offsetting of the more traditional Titwood and Samuel Dow bars in the same street, some locals regard the area as being under attack by gentrification – more on this later.<br />
<br />
If you return to Pollokshaws Road, you look right and see Mulberry, a place that still regards itself as “the Southside’s coolest bar/bistro.” It isn’t. And I’m afraid, even a decade a go, it wasn’t. All-round media man Dominik Diamond was a frequenter in those days – that tells one all one needs. <br />
<br />
To your left, are a number of more “authentic” locals, including Kelly’s. It also has a Diamond connection. He claimed in his autobiography that he experienced his nadir when he found himself consuming vast amounts cocaine in Kelly’s toilets, either before or after a Celtic game. Not quite the same as an epiphany in Groucho’s but he has since “found himself” again, this time as a decent God-fearing fellow, I believe.<br />
So bully for him.<br />
<br />
The nearest bar to Kelly’s is Heraghty’s. I believe it shares its neighbour’s footballing allegiance but surpasses it in terms of interior. It is well-preserved and has an interesting nook by the door. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIievzQisi3a00MKNe_BGIsO1OrCRIiDwpoylIILllcefPC58viEnVeEY-EwXeexn8TMrZoVf2ZeEkza9c2YIRU1YRUG9UA8VLFvWkywOa8G-VvlannDOF29bnUlV_24-Xv4MpfSUdfNXk/s1600/2015-02-18+13.42.55.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIievzQisi3a00MKNe_BGIsO1OrCRIiDwpoylIILllcefPC58viEnVeEY-EwXeexn8TMrZoVf2ZeEkza9c2YIRU1YRUG9UA8VLFvWkywOa8G-VvlannDOF29bnUlV_24-Xv4MpfSUdfNXk/s320/2015-02-18+13.42.55.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
A nice wee place, but the most rewarding joint on this side of the street is the Allison Arms. The stone-clad frontage reminds me of the Doublet and the now-defunct Mackintoshes. The use of brick is continued indoors with varied effect, looking scrappy in places. In fact, at first look the whole interior is slightly ramshackle, and it looks like a very basic knock-through extension has taken place sometime in the last 30 years or so, without much effort to smooth the marriage, so to speak.<br />
<br />
However, there are a couple of details that made me warm to the place. The wooden gantry is beautifully bowed with age. OK, so there are lots more impressive-looking gantries in this city, but not many that speak of their longevity and of witnessing years of good times quite so vividly.<br />
<br />
And there is an original spittoon! It makes my day seeing one of these. There are only a handful left in Glasgow, their presence very welcome despite their present-day redundancy. Spitting in a bar?! It’s almost as heinous as getting drunk. <br />
<br />
But if you do want to at least approach that state, you can take your pick from a healthy variety of unusual bottled beers from around the globe – three fridges-full of them. This kind of offering is the best price-efficient way of bars offering a wide range without the cost of putting on draught – showing that the craft-beer revolution has spread its influence very far. <br />
<br />
In this kind of bar you can thus have the best of both worlds – a good choice of tasty beers in an environment free of bearded nerds blethering on about cask-conditioning. Did I mention Brewdog?<br />
<br />
If I did it is as a contrast to the free house over the road from the Allison Arms – The Rum Shack. This is very much a one-off, especially round here. The name gives it away – a Caribbean experience. And before you groan about yet another themed joint, this place isn’t just another chain tiki bar, it is run by people with a genuine feel for that part of the world and its culture.<br />
<br />
In this site used to be Strathie’s and, more famously, The Kind Man’s, and housed a snooker hall downstairs. That same space now holds regular music nights; reggae, soul, blues and ragtime the constituent parts of a body of sounds that rivals that of many dedicated musical venues. <br />
<br />
Five minutes into The Rum Shack and I notice the presence of Ford Kiernan. Ho-hum. Five minutes after that, and in comes Bruce Morton, a comedian I’ve always found more interesting than the former chap. They began talking. I tried to eavesdrop. Not ethical but good if you want an edge to your piece with some insider information. <br />
<br />
But I couldn’t get close enough, so used my imagination instead. It came up with a new sitcom. Or an agitprop radio series of which you used to hear pretty regularly on public broadcasting. Or just a coming night at The Stand. <br />
<br />
I left with my questions unanswered, but with a free magazine in my hand – Art Village Voice – Arts and Culture in the Southside. Later, I read a piece within by Mr. Morton. The article was part of his ongoing satire – the Greater Shawlands Republic, in which he campaigns for Southside autonomy from the market-driven claws of GCC and its encouragement of gentrification. <br />
<br />
A funny wee read, from a man passionate about this area – not bad for a guy from Paisley. And his aim is to create what could be described as a funky republic, of which The Rum Shack could be a mini version.<br />
<br />
The magazine also features a number of local artists, the most interesting of which, if I can tender my second artistic opinion of this piece, is Brian W McFie – look out for his work.<br />
<br />
On the back of the magazine, restaurateur Domenico Crolla showcases his pizzas which feature likenesses of celebs such as Gino D’Acampo, Tom Ford and Jay Z. He describes these things as works of art. I’m sorry, Mr Crolla, volunteering my third artistic judgement - this blog is closer to that definition than your pieces of dough, tomato and cheese.<br />
The Pledgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07695094890563847119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4186167151280687868.post-11363674847319827902015-02-12T22:16:00.000+00:002015-02-12T22:16:56.476+00:00The Yards of Belfast<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHI_DGShJxvcwdLjOCcy4qWhXWKlskJPMDPeDfcARRKu3o7Wf2XAOAa8knaLnJG3OXVuU3XoNUf61HNPk7pacrxv73ImNcXbH-rdIE2JQlLjzhrPd5yyNMltRMmcMrnLzrwkooSxTj6iEX/s1600/The+Hudson+Belfast.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHI_DGShJxvcwdLjOCcy4qWhXWKlskJPMDPeDfcARRKu3o7Wf2XAOAa8knaLnJG3OXVuU3XoNUf61HNPk7pacrxv73ImNcXbH-rdIE2JQlLjzhrPd5yyNMltRMmcMrnLzrwkooSxTj6iEX/s320/The+Hudson+Belfast.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
The Pavilion, 269 Ormeau Road, Belfast <br />
The National Grande Cafe, 62-68 High Street, Belfast<br />
The Dirty Onion, 3 Hill Street, Belfast<br />
The Spaniard, 3 Skipper Street, Belfast<br />
The Hudson, 10-12 Gresham Street, Belfast<br />
<br />
It is now a tradition. We spend Christmas in Northern Ireland. With The Muse’s family. That means rural living for a few days. It makes a nice change from the city, the WiFi blackspots notwithstanding. <br />
<br />
But if Belfast calls I don’t take long to answer. I’ve been drinking in its scene for over a decade and I’m always keen on a re-acquaintance. The most recent of these was Boxing Day night with a companion who is a resident of the city. The Muse and BB Junior were heading back further west leaving me with some exploring time.<br />
<br />
Our first stop was The Pavilion, nicknamed The Big House, on Ormeau Road. Situated about two miles east of the city centre it can be considered a ‘local’ but it gathers custom from further afield. Part of its fame is its big brother, Lavery’s. That too might have been on our agenda but as things turned out we decided against giving that place or any its relations a glimpse of our greenbacks.<br />
<br />
The Pavilion/Big House is housed a red-brick Victorian/Edwardian building of the kind found in the more prosperous areas of the city; an architectural feature that has more in common with England than with Scotland.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhak3Ayk8d0m7QWXHvHU3DZ18kVu8CdC1-kGtJmjb6TV2MV_-qgzZ6KDa28qyckO-rsjaSGrqqOvc5vrVwIJsAPbDuV2ShIYwZgX9qDRn-wDFLhKsCJa-awAL6qnNxILtQFcNu5hgN0oSYu/s1600/The+Pavilion+Belfast.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhak3Ayk8d0m7QWXHvHU3DZ18kVu8CdC1-kGtJmjb6TV2MV_-qgzZ6KDa28qyckO-rsjaSGrqqOvc5vrVwIJsAPbDuV2ShIYwZgX9qDRn-wDFLhKsCJa-awAL6qnNxILtQFcNu5hgN0oSYu/s320/The+Pavilion+Belfast.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
The place boasts a public bar, boutique bar, loft bar, pool room and roof terrace. An impressive list. The public bar, on the ground floor, is traditional in appearance with some decent features worth a second look. I was doing just that – having left my friend to order while talking to a fellow he appeared to know at the counter – when a harsh noise made me turn. <br />
<br />
A woman was slapping my companion about the head and screaming. Yeah, you read it right. My eyes were thinking they were seeing things, too. And it got crazier. I step in and pull her away only to be told by the fellow at the bar, “If you touch her I’ll kill you.”<br />
<br />
Who knows where things would have gone because here the action was brought to halt by the cavalry, sorry, the bouncers. They proceeded to escort US out the premises. But we weren’t worried; the male and female stewards were very reasonable and told us they would check the CCTV before doing anything. Then the head steward arrived – a big, bald chap with an unfeasibly high voice. More reasonableness will follow, I thought.<br />
<br />
“You have to get out,” he said. “They’ve been here for hours and you’ve only just arrived.” My mouth must have fallen open. Or if it didn’t, I should have prised it into that position. How else can you respond to such a perversion of logic? The guy would brook no argument. Eventually, we just shrugged our shoulders. I did consider asking him when, exactly, his balls were gonna drop, but decided against it. Within two minutes we had a taxi, and within ten we were over the river and into Belfast city centre proper. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1NSJtPO6iUXVcGlnVoeqRBeDi77AseLl-XzTXidb0HP2lpy8f-0b1tWg1Pw4RWd-7jenixf_OXKk_qaRPvhb13wbEzuGMYezGoghuRKYsWqztYfAgUuN-N6hHENbS4qUOQqLwazwpVwhQ/s1600/The+National+Grande+Cafe+Belfast+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1NSJtPO6iUXVcGlnVoeqRBeDi77AseLl-XzTXidb0HP2lpy8f-0b1tWg1Pw4RWd-7jenixf_OXKk_qaRPvhb13wbEzuGMYezGoghuRKYsWqztYfAgUuN-N6hHENbS4qUOQqLwazwpVwhQ/s320/The+National+Grande+Cafe+Belfast+2.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
We visited four more bars/clubs that night and three of the four had massive outdoor areas, all well used despite the biting cold. I believe the locals call these “yards”. Even if they don’t, they should. It’s an evocative word that harks back to older drinking days.<br />
<br />
But these bars - The National Grand Cafe, Dirty Onion and The Hudson – aren’t old-fashioned drinking dens, they are modern places that attract a predominantly youngish crowd. Maybe a bit too homogeneous on a normal weekend night but on Boxing Day night you get more of a mix.<br />
<br />
The latter two bars have yards that are so extensive they merge almost seamlessly with the indoor parts. In The Hudson you walk around the labyrinthine collection of upstairs and downstairs; side room and back room; and yard without really realising where you are, only the slight change in temperature providing a clue.<br />
<br />
Amongst these visits we also managed to sneak a quick G&T in The Spaniard, a small bar with no outside provision that, because of its size and warming interior, always has a decent atmosphere. It could just as easily sit in a port in the eponymous country or by a canal in Amsterdam; such is its Europhile nature.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7lwhEgbZsE7NrS7k5aHJSv16F0uP7j2O9_zUAQPNlAnti5CmYr0JacyfZ-VIbqMv-lYj-N6Pl_3zKWBDjhN6VXtwxrocHfxPnFrFwJ8ciDZQNSLa_YXgzeG2OlQsvxLwx19kmDwHA42qs/s1600/Dirty+Onion+Belfast.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7lwhEgbZsE7NrS7k5aHJSv16F0uP7j2O9_zUAQPNlAnti5CmYr0JacyfZ-VIbqMv-lYj-N6Pl_3zKWBDjhN6VXtwxrocHfxPnFrFwJ8ciDZQNSLa_YXgzeG2OlQsvxLwx19kmDwHA42qs/s320/Dirty+Onion+Belfast.jpg" /></a><br />
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A couple more observations will suffice – Dirty Onion has a section of its yard that is non-smoking. For no reason. Silly enough in itself but even more so the punters standing in this section in the chilly conditions. Why would you? <br />
<br />
The Hudson was our last stop. Unusually for Belfast it is open until 2am, the extra hour something we appreciated as we compared whisky with whiskey until last orders. <br />
<br />
An hour and a half earlier we had queued for 5-10 minutes as the bouncers regulated the intake. We, and those around us, were patient, knowing that it was only a matter of brief time. A dark-haired woman arrived and immediately walked to the front of the queue and began talking to the door people. She was wearing one of those ridiculous, full-length puffa coats and – admittedly – quite elegant high heels. <br />
<br />
She said she was on the guest list and she needed to get in right away. At first the staff seemed amenable but then realised she was on no list on any clipboard they could find. She wasn’t happy and her tone changed accordingly. Very reasonably, the main bouncer told her all she had to do was queue, like everyone else, and she would get in. But if she insisted on being a pain they would have to insist on barring her entry altogether. <br />
<br />
Of course, the head doorperson didn’t quite have that turn of phrase, but that was the gist of it. The moral is – don’t try to convince people of your glamour and connections when you look like a penguin in stilettos. <br />
<br />
For those of you interested in exactly why my mate was set upon in our first pub of the night – it was to do with ongoing fallout from an ex. No need to say more. <br />
<br />
The Pledgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07695094890563847119noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4186167151280687868.post-31436867273264019792014-11-07T14:53:00.000+00:002014-11-07T14:53:02.516+00:00A Commonwealth Crawl - Part 3<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHjX1h6fONIUYEXBMrHH3s0TYQEABkfnBFIkWtoHjGm7CtS5UKisEyTTH4A7R7Uc98wWAmbzPJk71wDEpPS5AW2XrqiBrT91nI1zxR55kbwDqhoL-vKMAe1rwonE-nU0ng44089V6TsUXa/s1600/250px-2014_Commonwealth_Games_Logo.svg.png" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHjX1h6fONIUYEXBMrHH3s0TYQEABkfnBFIkWtoHjGm7CtS5UKisEyTTH4A7R7Uc98wWAmbzPJk71wDEpPS5AW2XrqiBrT91nI1zxR55kbwDqhoL-vKMAe1rwonE-nU0ng44089V6TsUXa/s320/250px-2014_Commonwealth_Games_Logo.svg.png" /></a><br />
<br />
The Pig & Whistle, 68 McNeil Street, Gorbals, Glasgow<br />
The Oak Bar, 774 Springfield Street, Glasgow G31 4HL<br />
The Bells, 990 Tollcross Road, Glasgow G32 8UP<br />
The Waverley, 1034 Tollcross Road, Glasgow G32 8UW<br />
<br />
<br />
The target this time was Glasgow Green, the piece of parkland designated for use by the city’s inhabitants for centuries. And in times of general squalor and overcrowding a very welcome relief and place to breathe.<br />
<br />
For the Games it is the National Hockey Centre at the east end of the Green that is the focus and thus the nearest pub is in the Gorbals. The joint in question is the Pig and Whistle. To get to it I got off the 75 just before it crosses the Clyde and walked east for five minutes along Ballater Street.<br />
<br />
The tenements have almost all been razed from the Gorbals and this pub is housed in a low-rise building that looks, at most, 50 years old, in a street unrecognisable to old Gorbalites. <br />
<br />
I was joined at this stop of my journey by LJ and 48-Inch Chest (44 isn’t very impressive these days). We expected to find a hybrid of various styles adapted, modified and deleted, so to speak, over the last three or four decades. Instead there is a coherent, traditional interior of dark wood with a long counter in the main body of an upturned L. At the far end is a seating area and around the corner a wee snug.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih0C6F0b3UgtOHkjRnKc4MQfyofcVduuGnLEttZZF4e34HJoKPFoenBuVvNGzxImlSxhXi-ayzSZg3yykIUIE_9ptgkvhXkqJI7kdXR8E-sVehVl1UReUFyyeq0yYs15XDLyh2dC5yC26f/s1600/20140524_163535.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih0C6F0b3UgtOHkjRnKc4MQfyofcVduuGnLEttZZF4e34HJoKPFoenBuVvNGzxImlSxhXi-ayzSZg3yykIUIE_9ptgkvhXkqJI7kdXR8E-sVehVl1UReUFyyeq0yYs15XDLyh2dC5yC26f/s320/20140524_163535.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
What appeared to be the aftermath of a funeral or some other cross-generational gathering was drawing to a close this early evening as we ordered and moved along through towards the back, leaving space for those around the bar.<br />
<br />
About to take a seat there I noticed another set of doors that led to a great little enclosed and sheltered outside area. It still being pleasant out we settled down for our smoke of choice. Soon we were joined by two attractive ladies in their early 30s. They entertained us with various anecdotes of recent holidays in the sun, specifically Magaluf.<br />
<br />
Not that they were actually talking to us, their voices were that loud and close that even eavesdropping – a skill of mine – wasn’t required. All of it is unrepeatable but it was of research value for my two companions who before this were looking for ideas of where to spend their summer holidays. Both assured me, later, they would be onto their travel agent first thing Monday with a definite destination in mind.<br />
<br />
Another voice joined in – a pal of the girls – from beyond the fence enclosing this mini beer garden. Declining to come round through the pub and join us she chatted for ten minutes to the two of them about various things – bling, make-up, plans for the night ahead.<br />
<br />
When she left one of the girls beside us said, “She’s a real cow, that one.”<br />
“Backstabbing bitch,” agreed the other.<br />
To be honest I wanted to stay for the next episode but my two friends reminded me of the task still to complete. So we left.<br />
<br />
Initially we had intended to get a taxi east but we began walking anyway, hoping to hail one as we moved. Over the Clyde and into Bridgeton, in the sunny remnant of the day we strolled, after ten minutes forgetting the taxi idea.<br />
<br />
Bridgeton isn’t a thriving district, hasn’t been for decades, and a sign of this is the complete absence of any kind of hostelry apart from the main artery, London Road. We reached that road sooner than expected and kept going towards Parkhead. <br />
<br />
Even a small Orange march didn’t stop us. We had the time to detour through Dalmarnock and look at the area that’s been most affected by the Games. <br />
<br />
The athletes’ village, The Chris Hoy Velodrome, the Emirates Arena and various new roads are all here and at much cost to the locals. Apart from the massive loss of housing and residents moved from streets they’ve lived in for generations, those that are left have had local shops and services closed meaning a long walk to Bridgeton. <br />
<br />
Even more serious is the closure, to make way for the Village, of the Accord Centre for vulnerable adults and their carers. But don’t worry; they have these shiny new sports centres to use for their recreation. Unfortunately, unlike Glasgow Green, they are far from free<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8Teg7l_nDrl5QwQgnho7Jdn57sAze58qNW-_gk5Qg9g539kwgh9B5QidYgkVCE3NCGK6IpvNYzHM_W65jwJQRoGlFJrqFIBAt1fP5dT4UWCu_X_FSmUuWqDt0rlyBuQxiBh65iSE6K4aC/s1600/20140524_173911.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8Teg7l_nDrl5QwQgnho7Jdn57sAze58qNW-_gk5Qg9g539kwgh9B5QidYgkVCE3NCGK6IpvNYzHM_W65jwJQRoGlFJrqFIBAt1fP5dT4UWCu_X_FSmUuWqDt0rlyBuQxiBh65iSE6K4aC/s320/20140524_173911.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
As mentioned above, those two new centres are key Commonwealth venues, as is the neighbouring Celtic Park. So I should really have picked three pubs but Turnstiles, The London Tavern and The Springfield Vaults were closed, either for good or because the main football season was over. <br />
<br />
So, we walked halfway up Springfield Road to the Oak Bar, this being the only bar within 500 metres of any of these venues. The Oak would sit near the top of most people’s lists of forbidding exteriors and there was some reluctance from my pals to entering. <br />
<br />
However, there was no more than five seconds of lingering looks from the folk inside, and within a minute we had our pints in our mitts. We were in the Lounge Bar area but never have I seen less of a distinction between that and The Saloon Bar, which you walk through to get to the Gents. The only difference apparent being the younger ages in the saloon.<br />
<br />
Those toilets are very basic but I’ve seen far worse, particularly in coastal resort bars in France or Spain. There is a wee bit of stained-glass partitioning on the wooden bar counter in the lounge but this nice detail is undermined by the counter being a two-tone affair, as if it’s been repaired numerous times after a hatchet attack, heaven forbid. Ignore my flights of imagination, there will be another, more boring, reason.<br />
<br />
Some folk might also dislike the stone floor but it fits with the pub and is far better than carpet, which hardly ever works in any decent bar. LJ and 48-inch chest were enjoying their time here and were more reluctant to leave than they had been entering earlier. But I insisted on the time schedule. It was after 8.<br />
<br />
Once we had left the Oak Bar they even suggested another in The Five Ways or The Anchor Bar just up the road on Gallowgate but here we split. They were off to meet some others in and around High Street while I was going further east. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXHAoTlWv0J3GHDa7pXX6-DVHDR-4mozAA-E-76FKBv_fM7JZgfOr2UeqDSZHNH_YrfDrSzcxvl5t5BApTTt3T0m_2c9ejAvO_NPR4kEMqLLiA4nsx7_2Hi8T4XXlMWZBI4J7jQrslnLPX/s1600/20140619_124647.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXHAoTlWv0J3GHDa7pXX6-DVHDR-4mozAA-E-76FKBv_fM7JZgfOr2UeqDSZHNH_YrfDrSzcxvl5t5BApTTt3T0m_2c9ejAvO_NPR4kEMqLLiA4nsx7_2Hi8T4XXlMWZBI4J7jQrslnLPX/s320/20140619_124647.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
Near Parkhead Cross, the 61 arrived at my stop. The last of the these roads was the route to the last Games’ venue – Tollcross Swimming Arena – and its nearest pub, The Bells. <br />
<br />
Reaching there just before 9 I ordered quickly in a pub that was moderately busy. With the light only beginning to dwindle what features are of note could be seen clearly. These include what looks like a decently-aged gantry, stained glass booth partitions and a well-maintained wooden floor. <br />
<br />
The Special was off so I picked the John Smith’s instead, a bad choice. I moved around the interior looking for some more interviewees, despite the earlier strife in Montfords. In doing so, I noticed the space outside to the back. Enough space for a beer garden but not capitalised upon.<br />
<br />
While I’m still looking around, an old guy nudges me and asks – “Do you work over the road?” <br />
“I work over some road, yes.” I grin.<br />
But he ignores my glibness and continues – “In that swimming place. We get some of them in here occasionally.”<br />
“Very occasionally, I’ll bet.” He sort of nods and takes a sip from his dark pint. <br />
<br />
“A quiet lot.”<br />
“Mm.”<br />
“But they were handing out all their leaflets and shit. Smiled at us and left.”<br />
“Unsociable bunch, then?” <br />
“Yep”, he sniffs. “This kind of life is beneath them.”<br />
<br />
I don’t know how to beat that. He’s summed it up. But I try.<br />
“You know their boss is a Yank wrestler?” <br />
He nods. “I’ve thought about that. We can’t even trust one of our own to run the damn thing.” <br />
<br />
“Aye, David Giffen is…<br />
“I’d have that cunt on that shiny floor and show him wrestling. I’d thrash him easily, he’d be weighed down with those saddlebags full of cash – fucking cowboy.”<br />
<br />
I tipped my hat to the fellow and he kept me amused for another three quarters of an hour with his anecdotes, most of which I can’t repeat for fear of the libel polis.<br />
<br />
That was the best of Bells for me – it got busier but it was a mild evening and I wanted a bit of alfresco. I’d overheard chat about The Waverley along the road and its area out back. <br />
<br />
It was only a hundred yards away – a bigger bar with a younger clientele. The main difference is the outdoor facilities – loads of tables filling an area of about 200 square metres. No greenery but an abundance of fresh air.<br />
<br />
Everyone else knew each other it seemed, but being the only stranger isn’t new to me so I drank in the atmosphere as the light and the adventure faded into a gentle haze. I had a few more and listened a bit longer – to the nearby conversations and my thoughts.<br />
<br />
There had been eight (or was it nine?) bars and a great day/night out. I’d covered west to east, via the south and traced experiences possible to any Games visitor seeking refreshment near any venue. <br />
<br />
A special day, then, but also really no different than any random cross section I could have taken to reveal the relationship between Glasgow and its pubs. And only one of millions of such tales of revelry across generations of Glaswegians. A sense of one’s own insignificance is invaluable for any reviewer/writer.<br />
<br />
That last realisation prompted my departure. The number 2 bus, another cross-city traveller, sat with its engine idling a few streets away. It was ready for me and vice versa.<br />
<br />
<br />
POSTSCRIPT<br />
<br />
The Games are finished and the sports centres are open again. Leaving that revealing dichotomy aside, it can be said that the consensus is the XVI Commonwealth Games were well run and those involved had a memorable time. In those narrow terms, then, it could be called a success for Glasgow. <br />
<br />
And Games’ grandees trumpet the achievements of regeneration, greater sporting participation, the enhancement of the city’s tourist potential and a myriad of other benefits detailed in their press folders.<br />
<br />
However, many respected analysts dispute the scale and veracity of these achievements and other of us wonder why it needs a sporting jamboree to do these things that the city needs? <br />
<br />
And why, in the process, were Glaswegians from some of the poorest areas of our city decanted from their homes and/or deprived of vital community facilities? As the husband of Margaret Jaconelli put it during the final throes of their eviction from the family home in Dalmarnock – “It takes them 40 policemen and chainsaws and this is what they do to Glasgow citizens just so some idiots get to run around in shorts for two weeks.”<br />
<br />
He put it better in those few fraught seconds than I have in over 4,000 words. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
The Pledgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07695094890563847119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4186167151280687868.post-50241812697382198472014-07-23T21:16:00.000+01:002014-07-23T21:16:23.047+01:00A Commonwealth Crawl - Part 2<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOmD8l3uFslpiOmNhIuBNgc0T2XKnhIbX2WbOWKlHRC1Oemy-qz_opBvtWiDF5Ru6v76AzI33bYYE2LGZc1BpZQ5cpXKMJZ-YV3ytsH2AkrOO5YiTTDnTN16kmNw_YNgSeFXZm7CrpglGi/s1600/250px-2014_Commonwealth_Games_Logo.svg.png" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOmD8l3uFslpiOmNhIuBNgc0T2XKnhIbX2WbOWKlHRC1Oemy-qz_opBvtWiDF5Ru6v76AzI33bYYE2LGZc1BpZQ5cpXKMJZ-YV3ytsH2AkrOO5YiTTDnTN16kmNw_YNgSeFXZm7CrpglGi/s400/250px-2014_Commonwealth_Games_Logo.svg.png" /></a><br />
<br />
The Park, 442 Paisley Road West, Glasgow G51<br />
Montford House, 23-27 Curtis Avenue, Glasgow, G44 4QD<br />
The New Oasis, 57 Dougrie Drive, Glasgow, G45 9AD<br />
<br />
Ibrox and neighbouring Cessnock are deprived areas with some disgraceful housing stock. The back streets are lined with crumbling tenements, most of which are owned by disreputable, irresponsible landlords who treat their tenants dreadfully.<br />
<br />
Due to council and central government inaction this state of affairs is repeated across many parts of Glasgow and while it remains any money spent on an outmoded sports event is surely frivolous. <br />
<br />
I work in the district and have used all the local pubs, I believe, one of a handful of a large office complement to have done so. Almost all colleagues/neighbouring businesses only frequent the Co-Op and two semi-trendy sandwich shops. All too typical of the middle/semi-professional class not to spend their money in places they regard as beneath their status.<br />
<br />
The closest pub to Ibrox stadium is The Louden Tavern. A massive blue booze emporium that goes in for hyperbole – “The Most Famous Pub In Scotland” and “The Quintessential Rangers Supporters’ Bar” are just some of the banners used by it and its two sister venues that make up a mini chain. <br />
<br />
But for various reasons I couldn’t embark on this crawl during the football season so this particular Louden’s was closed. But only a five-minute walk took me into Cessnock and The Park. Like Louden’s it only comes alive on match days. I visited both last year when the other Rangers – Berwick – came to town and witnessed much singing and drinking but today there was none of the former and little of the latter. “Only early” one might say, but this is the norm for The Park most of the time.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxOIqrMRg7u-ZBVL5LFrzYpjG9EW3DH8-JqStrayCP7oBKhF8KnXOtdYLDd4khv1E-DNrfW6ihQ_adIT_6Hs1cFXwejpnZ-__ACP84epqZCY950PiWJ8SKitmyLFtOSkZdDkeeoEREsD_H/s1600/20140528_121921.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxOIqrMRg7u-ZBVL5LFrzYpjG9EW3DH8-JqStrayCP7oBKhF8KnXOtdYLDd4khv1E-DNrfW6ihQ_adIT_6Hs1cFXwejpnZ-__ACP84epqZCY950PiWJ8SKitmyLFtOSkZdDkeeoEREsD_H/s400/20140528_121921.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
It’s big inside but very gloomy with a bar counter too small for the interior. A pool table does nothing to lighten the mood and the range of drinks is relatively small. Saturday night will be an improvement but only marginally. The pub sits on a corner with waste ground to its right and a sorry, little landscaped garden to the rear.<br />
<br />
Space for a decent beer garden, sure, but where’s the money for it? And amidst the decay and poverty of Cessnock the thought of such is almost in bad taste.<br />
<br />
There are better pubs around here, The Kensington and the pristine District Bar most notably and I passed them both in the number 9 along Paisley Road West heading east. My next connection was in town – the number 75 heading south from Glassford Street.<br />
<br />
But time was getting a bit ahead of me so when I got off the 9 and jogged to the appropriate bus stop I took the chance of gaining some minutes by jumping three buses down to a number 7 which advertised Hampden as one of its stops. <br />
<br />
“Great”, I thought, “I’ll make it to the next pub a few minutes earlier than hoped and maybe enjoy the luxury of lingering.” Not to be. I realised this as soon as we forked right towards Victoria Road. Hampden would be a stop but only an approximate one well to the west of the stadium, the wrong side.<br />
<br />
It takes a rapid 15-minute walk to get to the right side and to my designated pub, Montford House. There’s another pub almost equidistant from the stadium, The Beechwood but the Montford is closer and slightly more welcoming.<br />
<br />
Not to say it’s striking or of architectural note, as you can see. The interior is no more remarkable, generic with carpets and pale wooden fixtures. Both outer and inner were far more impressive when it opened as a free house in the 1960s. Now it’s denuded and owned by Belhaven<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJL71xWV9N8mZptOUD6p6wH_vh8fqagC_z7oWjHWXQ_1zcSe0vNSDHLVu1YAYa154nfJlKI4wnAZagNtKPl4kiHpEol4UH35ypfPco5pNQqA6NT2QBkBEyZ-uSjSBkDfuzJ7NOLVXVk9Sn/s1600/20140524_150826.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJL71xWV9N8mZptOUD6p6wH_vh8fqagC_z7oWjHWXQ_1zcSe0vNSDHLVu1YAYa154nfJlKI4wnAZagNtKPl4kiHpEol4UH35ypfPco5pNQqA6NT2QBkBEyZ-uSjSBkDfuzJ7NOLVXVk9Sn/s400/20140524_150826.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
It’s meant to be comfortable and conducive to moderate consumption of drink and, more importantly, in this sort of joint, food. Burgers, fish and chips, steak sandwiches, fajitas, lasagne and garlic bread. All selected from laminate menus. Maybe there’s even a curry night?<br />
<br />
There’s a split-level with a lounge area up top that is only distinguished from the other area by higher-backed booths. There is more than just plain-fare food and drink marketed here, sport on TV, or more specifically, football on TV. A lot of pubs are the same, some are just more blatant about it.<br />
<br />
Today it’s the English Football League Play-offs. But the World Cup pennants are out too, branded with various sponsor logos. The mostly middle-aged men in here don’t seem the type to be turned on by pennants but they are intent on the football.<br />
<br />
I order a bottle of beer and a small brandy and settle to watch a bit of it myself. But I’m up on my feet when I remember what I’m here for. Time for a Vox Pop. The first guy edges away towards the window as I take a seat at his booth. His 55-year-old mouth is open and ready with some exclamation but I get in first –<br />
“What you think about The Games, pal?” <br />
<br />
It’s as if I’m punching him in the face. Startled pain. “Uh…?” He looks around for help. No-one is looking. I feel like easing his discomfort but know my role. I stare at him. <br />
<br />
“What you want me to say?” he blurts.<br />
“I don’t want you to say anything.”<br />
“OK, then.” He is looking relieved. But this is no good. “No comment” isn’t enough. <br />
<br />
“What about Chris Hoy not making the effort to compete in his home Games. Any thoughts on that?”<br />
“Aye, well, guy needs to… you know, cash in while he can…”<br />
This bloke is warming to it. Time for more probing.<br />
<br />
“Are you a fucking journo?!”<br />
Somebody has been watching me at work. I half turn towards the seating from which the cry has come. “Do I look like a sorry category of vermin?!” I retort, regretting immediately the comparison – sorry, rats and your cousins.<br />
<br />
I look fully at the new guy. Him and his two buddies are hard-faced and smiling simultaneously. Disconcerting. <br />
<br />
Sliding out from the booth while checking my two drinks are virtually done I walk over to them. Because they are between the door and I. There’s no sound as I leave, only the football commentary at another crescendo. <br />
<br />
There is a 75 in less than ten minutes and I’m rattling up into Glasgow’s surrounding hills. As this is a continuation of my earlier route the frequency isn’t a surprise. Glasgow’s travel service is fine for getting into and away from the city centre but for anything else it is quite useless. <br />
<br />
Castlemilk is my target now, the closest habitation with a hostelry to the Cathkin Braes mountain biking venue. Near a shopping centre I get off, and down the hill and at the back of it is the New Oasis. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfzZqCeRPejRXBAM9eJQIxoBd27EJNrZ09K2Y8kfz5CdyNhDhzNHwSX8SGxY_x-ixeJ_OcB4qS2vEf-IZPclaJn7jgb1KQv3A0fRSvuFrt8kc7zErJyRIss4odVzoqa7cr_Joi9Jc3yb64/s1600/20140526_123657.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfzZqCeRPejRXBAM9eJQIxoBd27EJNrZ09K2Y8kfz5CdyNhDhzNHwSX8SGxY_x-ixeJ_OcB4qS2vEf-IZPclaJn7jgb1KQv3A0fRSvuFrt8kc7zErJyRIss4odVzoqa7cr_Joi9Jc3yb64/s400/20140526_123657.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
Probably only the locals and John Gorevan, pub historian, know of its existence in this quiet street. But unless you are offended by an OAP hanging about the door in his Adidas tracksuit you should go in if nearby. If you do a big interior awaits and white “butcher” tiling under and behind the counter, put there years before it became trendy. <br />
<br />
Whether its most recent refurb was in the ‘70s or early ’80s may be discerned by design experts from the faux gas lamps and disproportionately large fans. The battered look of all the seating confirms that it’s been a long, long time since the pub has been decorated and/or refitted. <br />
<br />
But so what? The, mostly, older guys in here like coming, and the trophies on display indicate that it’s a social club as much as a bare place of refreshment. I recall a snooty review of this place on Yelp, or similar parasite site, in which an out-of-towner ripped into the place rubbishing its punters and the smell of its toilets. Ignorance masquerading as refinement. Don’t bother returning, pal.<br />
<br />
I was happy to lean back and relax and savour my pint of Special at a point more than halfway through the trek. I didn’t talk to anyone about the Games. They won’t affect anyone in here, even though they will have all paid in at least some way towards the extravaganza. <br />
<br />
There could be strong views in here or just indifference. Anyway, life in and around the New Oasis will continue roughly as before. <br />
<br />
Once I’ve finished my pint, I linger outside for a couple of minutes, looking north down onto the late-afternoon city. A grand view. The strong sun delineates between concrete and sandstone, wasteland and park, high-rise and tenement. I pull myself away from any sentimentality and start walking towards the main road and a bus downtown to Glasgow’s oldest place of recreation. <br />
<br />
The Pledgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07695094890563847119noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4186167151280687868.post-53161767085264448132014-06-25T22:21:00.000+01:002014-06-25T22:21:36.377+01:00A Commonwealth Crawl - Part 1<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNTwfvmWR2d6YPQhnc-2VotoewaZ3cmsT-klAuNQofChHu0kPzUjk41SV5QYuUslG0adgxntI4XixCf7t4UZAn3gC5nSX_6xzFuMHG1MzSlXtDmJqqITM6d38nK9XBgTP6Okrs8iWiKkkw/s1600/250px-2014_Commonwealth_Games_Logo.svg.png" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNTwfvmWR2d6YPQhnc-2VotoewaZ3cmsT-klAuNQofChHu0kPzUjk41SV5QYuUslG0adgxntI4XixCf7t4UZAn3gC5nSX_6xzFuMHG1MzSlXtDmJqqITM6d38nK9XBgTP6Okrs8iWiKkkw/s320/250px-2014_Commonwealth_Games_Logo.svg.png" /></a><br />
<br />
McNabbs, 1552 Dumbarton Road, Glasgow G14 9DB<br />
Butchershop Bar & Grill, 1055 Sauchiehall Street, Glasgow G3 7UD<br />
<br />
<br />
Glasgow and sport have a bad relationship. We residents of Scotland’s largest city aren’t bad at watching it but pretty pitiful in actually doing it. For instance, can you name the last professional world-class footballer born and brought up in this town? Kenny Dalglish? No-one since. In 40 years. And in other major sports it’s even longer.<br />
<br />
It may be the aim of the Commonwealth Games organisers to increase sports participation and improve these kinds of dire figures but I haven’t seen it particularly emphasised and decisions such as closing Scotstoun Sports Centre from June 27th until August without organising adequate alternatives are indicative of the real priorities of the council and the CG organisation.<br />
<br />
But it’s not about action it’s about THE MESSAGE and that is, supposedly, a healthy and wealthy Glasgow of today and the future. A message so transparently bogus and full of bad faith that it needs to be challenged or ignored, whatever one feels is more effective.<br />
<br />
For that reason I set about subverting the spin of officialdom with a tour you won’t see in any promotional guide.<br />
<br />
The Glaswegian’s default point of contact with sport is the pub, watching it on TV. So, I picked a number of pubs that stand nearest to the main Games venues – Ibrox, Scotstoun, Kelvingrove, Hampden, Cathkin Braes, Glasgow National Hockey Centre, Chris Hoy Velodrome, Celtic Park and Tollcross.<br />
<br />
I planned having at least a pint in each bar. Not unlike other crawls I’ve done and described before, only a little longer and this with a more discernible theme. It was completed in a oner but for ease of reading it’s been split into three parts.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj27xUmM_xHtxTBCiwLbTWObThy_ZwTdwrpw6oQajVZ7dInirLp1jL9ekYLbfAYd8PCmCaBUCFIvDyGLUPREwMFQZICGP8BVqwVZ_Xnn5EHi4OHNWdHCBi7BLcBGSxbotquerJwedy7fWGp/s1600/20140526_134925.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj27xUmM_xHtxTBCiwLbTWObThy_ZwTdwrpw6oQajVZ7dInirLp1jL9ekYLbfAYd8PCmCaBUCFIvDyGLUPREwMFQZICGP8BVqwVZ_Xnn5EHi4OHNWdHCBi7BLcBGSxbotquerJwedy7fWGp/s320/20140526_134925.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
Scotstoun Sports Centre will be hosting the badminton and is the furthest west of all the venues thus closest to the new Bar Biographer HQ. A frequent bus service made this first stop easy to reach but things would get harder.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://thebarbiographer.blogspot.co.uk/2010/02/is-it-granny-be-good.html">Granny Gibbs</a> is virtually equidistant from the sports centre as McNabbs but I chose the latter because I haven’t yet featured it, even though it is the closest pub to my old abode. <br />
<br />
The place has a bit of an unfortunate reputation, unfair even. The first time I asked a local about it he called the place McStabs. When I laughed half-heartedly and asked him why he recounted a tale, possibly apocryphal, of an unlucky punter attacked by a knife-wielding thug. He lay writhing near the counter only to be given seconds by another, seemingly unrelated assailant. <br />
<br />
Nasty stuff and a reputation encouraged by darkened, blinded windows allowing passers-by zero view of the interior. But if they were to enter instead of just passing by they would find a surprisingly comfortable interior with plenty of wood finishing. A wee haven of a place entirely unthreatening.<br />
<br />
McNabb’s is thus good for a winter’s night when it has the required cosiness but comes even more into its own in the high summer, when the tables go out onto the wide Scotstoun pavement and drinkers and the afore-mentioned passers-by interact with what you could call gusto, if you weren’t from round here.<br />
<br />
But ordering a quick half and half in order to get the engines running early – midday – after another, ahem, assignment the previous evening I was surprised to have to twice explain their spirits range to the barmaid. She thought the Jameson I requested wasn’t there despite the infallible presence of the bottle on the shelf over her left shoulder. <br />
<br />
Not the first time I’ve educated a bar person and won’t be the last. I don’t mind and I do it for free but it’s minus marks for the bar. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpIWpm9NfVcrKFmtH-WoKayHqRhyhEJXreQKFVv2n-N5-qgpG7wD5I2Yzadao1lxEy44jBG3SB72MH86TS9LYILGgbYjt7rtSjGd1lx0TInXzIpCmNSEEDs9t1fre5Qm9ZpWjT5OepRRWM/s1600/20140526_133414.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpIWpm9NfVcrKFmtH-WoKayHqRhyhEJXreQKFVv2n-N5-qgpG7wD5I2Yzadao1lxEy44jBG3SB72MH86TS9LYILGgbYjt7rtSjGd1lx0TInXzIpCmNSEEDs9t1fre5Qm9ZpWjT5OepRRWM/s320/20140526_133414.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
Only one of the reasons, then, that I didn’t linger, the main one being the seven bars – at least – that lay ahead. So, I was onto the number 2 bus, within 20 minutes of entering McNabb’s, heading east along Dumbarton Road. <br />
<br />
Sitting directly opposite the reinvigorated Kelvingrove Lawn Bowls Centre on the outskirts of the oh, so hipster Finnieston is the Butchershop Bar and Grill. <br />
<br />
I hadn’t been a fan of its name (<a href="http://thebarbiographer.blogspot.co.uk/2010/06/bar-grillzzzz.html">see my whole post on the of the use of the term “grill” in bars and restaurants</a>) nor its marketing message of beef cuts and hatchets, merely because it had been done many times before.<br />
<br />
On the up side their take on contemporary crispness – bare wooden floors, exposed stone walls and other minimalism – does convince more than most. And they have toned down the bovine branding. <br />
<br />
I travelled with the intention of an alfresco drink but clouds greeted me and the outside area was unappealing. However, since this visit they have introduced new decking furniture, which is very attractive and will help to draw more attention to the place.<br />
<br />
There was no need to educate any of the staff here, they know their mixology but I only felt like a pint of what LJ calls “cooking” lager. Early on Saturday afternoon it was quiet and not a cocktail atmosphere but therein lies Butchershop’s problem because despite its impressive drink list, expertise and good look it hasn’t yet become a destination bar to rival joints like The Finnieston and the Kelvingrove Café.<br />
<br />
Location might be the issue but perhaps the Games will change all that and I notice the operators have placed the event at the heart of their marketing campaign. <br />
<br />
“Best of luck” I muttered, sauntering away from the bar and towards the door. “Thanks, buddy”, came the reply, unaware of the scope of my good wishes or the journey before me. <br />
<br />
The next leg began on the Underground after doubling back to Kelvinhall station. Three stops to Ibrox. <br />
The Pledgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07695094890563847119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4186167151280687868.post-82969113668862893542014-05-16T16:16:00.000+01:002014-05-16T16:16:17.145+01:00Lists are for the Guidance of Wise Men and the Direction of Fools<br />
The List magazine guide to eating and drinking in Glasgow and Edinburgh fails to provide an unbiased or comprehensive guide.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg81qteccBgAKNg81K6hXSduogTIBMWLNlRmRejRs6ZPHyI5ZoDruc-8JUiujp69ByIWeVjEu975U0gq00x2b9h2INgp9u6sZjTgAoj1M-DG4FFcK61Pi8pspJhDBugrFoDvqEnC3cxN5Kc/s1600/glasgow-clyde_2184513k.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg81qteccBgAKNg81K6hXSduogTIBMWLNlRmRejRs6ZPHyI5ZoDruc-8JUiujp69ByIWeVjEu975U0gq00x2b9h2INgp9u6sZjTgAoj1M-DG4FFcK61Pi8pspJhDBugrFoDvqEnC3cxN5Kc/s320/glasgow-clyde_2184513k.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBuSKHN1YWF-Vfc9qsOB27zN0vsEqIUbeRrI663nkSO5vc6AD-HzYTFUuh6RfwRtLPllSAzHdi2-vp3MjBmXOV6MJsfsUWRl93snvdyrFkWVmnefW979t_UTKBCZKNeDsLpP86GCDGIp-Q/s1600/edinburgh.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBuSKHN1YWF-Vfc9qsOB27zN0vsEqIUbeRrI663nkSO5vc6AD-HzYTFUuh6RfwRtLPllSAzHdi2-vp3MjBmXOV6MJsfsUWRl93snvdyrFkWVmnefW979t_UTKBCZKNeDsLpP86GCDGIp-Q/s320/edinburgh.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Forgive me the title paraphrasing and allow me a confession: I, too, use guides.<br />
<br />
Now that unburdening is out of the way let me explain. For overseas trips and impromptu city visits they are necessary, merely to avoid hours of wandering around looking for any decent watering holes that would ensue if one arrived directionless.<br />
<br />
Where there is time for a decent amount of research I do just that, drawing on a wide selection of sources and opinions. My own experience is the best source I know but until cloning becomes free on the NHS my singular presence can never be enough to stride every corner of the globe.<br />
<br />
When it comes to nearer home I do look at bar guides, sometimes to fill gaps in my imbibing knowledge but mostly to compare notes, to see what others think of pubs I like and dislike. It can be quite diverting. <br />
<br />
For a few years The List has been probably the best-known eating guide in Scotland. It has ambitions UK-wide but it can’t match, sorry, the big marketing budgets of English-based competitors. And this is shown most clearly when you look at the List’s online presence.<br />
<br />
But I used to look forward to the latest hard copy List Guide, or magazine, as you could call it with validity before the true arrival of the internet.<br />
<br />
The guide’s concentration upon restaurants meant that my interest was merely frivolous but in recent years, with the blurring of lines between eateries and drinkeries, The List started a new section on pubs and bars. This direct move into my territory ceased the offhand way I would look at the annual publication.<br />
<br />
It quickly became clear that The List reviewers were selecting bars from a narrow range, largely ruling out traditional bars. A few were included but even this small number decreased until this year only a handful from Glasgow and Edinburgh are reviewed.<br />
<br />
Omissions from Glasgow include The Horseshoe, The Scotia, Liosmore, The Laurieston, The Steps Bar and The Old Toll. Within this number are interiors showing the best intact examples of Edwardian, Art Deco and ‘60s design you will find in virtually any British pub. And they aren’t mere museum pieces, good times can be enjoyed at any hour they open their doors.<br />
<br />
Only two venues are reviewed east of High Street – West Brewery and The Vintage, these being included only for their craft beer. Meanwhile, two absolute period gems The Railway Tavern and The Portland Arms don’t feature because they are too far east and too working class.<br />
<br />
In Edinburgh there are also many great bars ignored. For example, the magazine mentions how vibrant Leith is as a focus of hospitality but in this area alone, stalwarts such as The Central Bar, Carriers Quarter and Port o’ Leith are missing.<br />
<br />
And, popping downtown to the New Town and Stockbridge, no reviews of places like The Bailey, Star Bar and Kay’s Bar. The latter’s omission is particularly noteworthy. This tiny mews bar with a unique appearance and atmosphere featured before in the magazine but not this time. <br />
<br />
Two other distinguished names The Sheep’s Heid (possibly the city’s oldest) and The Canny Man (possibly the city’s haughtiest landlord) were also previously included but not now. No list of Edinburgh pubs can sensibly omit such idiosyncratic items as these, their distinguishing features going beyond the latest bar fashions.<br />
<br />
This fixation with fashion may be explained by my suspicion that a majority of the reviewers are wannabe hipsters who don’t have an appreciation of what actually makes Glasgow and Edinburgh the drinking cities they are. They have no perspective on the development of nightlife on a timespan beyond last year and are then unable to define a city from any other.<br />
<br />
So we get a list of bar reviews that could just as easily be describing a joint in Birmingham or Buckingham as in one of our two largest cities. Maybe that’s what they want, an identikit, chain-city where they and fellow pseudo trendies can play unmolested by the rest of the population?<br />
<br />
Their narrow focus and lack of knowledge manifest themselves, for example, in an ignorance – wilful or not – of any kind of bar scene in Glasgow’s East End and in their treatment of an area such as Finniestion. For The List and its writers the district is just Glasgow’s version of Shoreditch/Hoxton. <br />
<br />
Its industrial legacy and claim to be the last part of Glasgow’s west end to be gentrified mean pretty much nothing to them and they seem to have no knowledge that Finnieston has always had plenty of bars – before the ratio of traditional to contemporary pubs was 9-1 and it’s now vice versa.<br />
<br />
Aside from the content of the magazine, it claims that all review visits are incognito and that inclusion is not secured through payment. A strange claim that when you consider the consistent inclusion of certain joints and the equally consistent exclusion of similar places bars and restaurants.<br />
<br />
And from Edinburgh’s famous Rose Street the Abbotsford is featured while the equally impressive Kenilworth is not. One wonders why until you notice the large ad placed by the pub group owning the Abbotsford, the Guildford Arms and others, all of which are included in the guide.<br />
<br />
Bar/nightlife guides are useful and fun and, hopefully, free but unless you are a recently-bearded clone who thinks the best fun to be had when the sun goes down is a few craft beers at the opening of the 38th Brewdog outlet, steer clear of The List.<br />
<br />
<br />
The Pledgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07695094890563847119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4186167151280687868.post-30672414469299864422014-03-30T15:51:00.000+01:002014-03-30T15:51:12.060+01:00Hyde<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIXKXBBjcMTviTXZ_anVnd-IxTToK_bYEWCR_rnAWzfbW6HKO3Wmgb8miq8S89VBY1NOci2brYSRQMXoo8S5IonG9p1ogVSUJj9_I_6hwB4MwXLgmgFQB9yaYnV0JHlzxJ53Gsxi5rOpbH/s1600/20140310_141443.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIXKXBBjcMTviTXZ_anVnd-IxTToK_bYEWCR_rnAWzfbW6HKO3Wmgb8miq8S89VBY1NOci2brYSRQMXoo8S5IonG9p1ogVSUJj9_I_6hwB4MwXLgmgFQB9yaYnV0JHlzxJ53Gsxi5rOpbH/s320/20140310_141443.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
Hyde, 9-17 Partick Bridge Street, Glasgow G11 6PN<br />
<br />
It took a while but <a href="http://www.hydeglasgow.com/">Hyde Bar and Restaurant</a>, at Partick Cross, and its ambitious terrace have finally arrived. The stop-start nature of its development even caught me out but now it is here to be enjoyed.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Planning a forthcoming London trip it soon became obvious just how many pubs, clubs and restaurants have custom-built smoking/sun terraces. Glasgow has only a handful of venues that have gone out of their way to construct semi-covered areas where one can sit outside for as long as one feels, smoking or not.<br />
<br />
That is one of the reasons I shadowed the progress of a development down the Partick end of Byres Road. From the beginning of its planning, the terrace was both a key part of its publicity and its aims as a venue. The phrase “south-facing” has never been more relevant for a Glasgow bar.<br />
<br />
Despite the nearby presence of The Three Judges and Butterfly & Pig the imminent arrival of Hyde on Partick Bridge Street seemed like a step into the unknown, a claim staked on virgin territory. I looked forward…<br />
<br />
And waited. The weeks became months as progress stalled many times. So long, now, that I can’t even remember if it was two or three years ago. Facebook profiles, blog mentions, street rumours and recruitment drives all supposedly heralded its arrival but the actual construction failed to keep pace and then ground to a halt. Another dream that ended, so it seemed.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOKJe53YP5Ib1feM1x2Hy2MM56Brpg3RrdYRPoPNBMLllohDH99zTQZLDQusVh_D9hotSyDqhfAu9gmCPLPoBh2Fc_z5nCi3aCvf_qe2GOEmnRXaWL0-bhpDy2Zqi8a8fofEe5iRR4kTQR/s1600/20140310_150511.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOKJe53YP5Ib1feM1x2Hy2MM56Brpg3RrdYRPoPNBMLllohDH99zTQZLDQusVh_D9hotSyDqhfAu9gmCPLPoBh2Fc_z5nCi3aCvf_qe2GOEmnRXaWL0-bhpDy2Zqi8a8fofEe5iRR4kTQR/s320/20140310_150511.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
Then, some two months ago I was passing and noticed work had begun again. Inside as well as out. I stopped and peered in an open door. A young bloke in a hard hat was working. He caught my eye. I turned to go.<br />
<br />
“Can I help you?” he enquired. More of a statement than a question. In an Eastern European accent.<br />
“No,” I replied quickly and moved to go. In two or three steps he was beside me, his expression blank. Perhaps he thinks I’m from a rival operation, I thought. Or even an opportunistic thief?<br />
<br />
“Just having a look,” I said cheerily, “nice place!” <br />
“Yeah?” His tone remained defensive. I nodded, thinking of what I could say next to defuse the situation…<br />
“You think so…?” A smile grew. “I designed it all. Everything.” <br />
<br />
I nodded, while inwardly doubting his story of a multi-skilled 19-year-old assuming control of the interior design, civil engineering and architecture of a six-figure project. But I applauded his chutzpah. Again inwardly.<br />
<br />
Before I did actually leave he showed me the width of the place, at least double the amount of frontage I had expected, and assured me it would be opened within 10 days. My scepticism was again warranted as that time came and went.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNlADwLY9QV1x_AcxzBE-dFd3FvkTJ-eqhb1JCPReuBPdSM5FYyLAD26702-MIaf_xqKC7by6Gzqpg0Vw0YDqgA-iJCAX7prryqxCYdqYEQqGQnoZr99U1yUHCGe7Iat1pnYTgoz85hFae/s1600/20140310_150454.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNlADwLY9QV1x_AcxzBE-dFd3FvkTJ-eqhb1JCPReuBPdSM5FYyLAD26702-MIaf_xqKC7by6Gzqpg0Vw0YDqgA-iJCAX7prryqxCYdqYEQqGQnoZr99U1yUHCGe7Iat1pnYTgoz85hFae/s320/20140310_150454.jpg" /></a><br />
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Some time later, during a long shift of my second occupation - The Muse’s driver, she shouted as we sped like light through Partick Cross. I didn’t turn my head, even for an instant, so used am I to her outpourings of passion but her utterance contained a word I knew that made me pause – my thoughts, not my pressure on the accelerator. <br />
<br />
She had said “Hyde!” Now, my second thought concerned that outstanding international arrest warrant I may have mentioned in an earlier blog but where was there to obscure myself if danger was imminent? So, I reconsidered and remembered the mythical opening promised for so long.<br />
<br />
“What about it?” I asked as nonchalantly as I could. <br />
“It looks like it could be open.”<br />
I paused. Gulped quietly. “Nah, can’t be…”<br />
<br />
Much later that night I heard the door crashing open. Must have been after 3am. The chuckling came later, around ten seconds later. That was the last I heard before the morning. Two jobs are tiring.<br />
<br />
And in that morning The Muse was triumphant. She and her lady friends had been some of the first to enter its doors. While I had snored. The irony was huge. But I swallowed it with grace and smiled while she described the interior. <br />
<br />
Cream banquettes. Black banquettes. Elegant booths upstairs. Vodka. The mezzanine. The partially-bricked wall. Vodka. Splashes of red here and there. Eclectic pieces of furniture. Gin. Innovative lighting. She went on and on…<br />
<br />
As much as anything else, to stop her I said, “I NEED to go.” She looked at me as if I’d just suggested we move to the Crimea. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDtTZhnuN0cMyhLtQn8uiLzxcSxP0HKGAiTaNuN7mBD8jUw6fGxBHwkDX9SC474XYCOcbqRzZX1XkuYKWt30Dqfa4klv9hTlQPR_aBcj3oCCfjn4EZpXA-lwDyejvE1M0vf_wTSoSrSVL6/s1600/20140310_143923.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDtTZhnuN0cMyhLtQn8uiLzxcSxP0HKGAiTaNuN7mBD8jUw6fGxBHwkDX9SC474XYCOcbqRzZX1XkuYKWt30Dqfa4klv9hTlQPR_aBcj3oCCfjn4EZpXA-lwDyejvE1M0vf_wTSoSrSVL6/s320/20140310_143923.jpg" /></a><br />
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But I have managed to go. On three occasions at different times of day and night, for flavour. It is looking promising. Unlike many new bars this place actually needs the large windows. To do the interior justice and to allow its scale to be appreciated. <br />
<br />
Other than that observation it is hard to pin down a stream of thought behind the look and this is not here a bad thing. An indulgent mish-mash you could call it. Normally this is a minus but not for Hyde. Because it is an attempt to create something that is good and pleasing, not just something that will work. A subtle difference and it shows a commitment often lacking. <br />
<br />
The Muse hadn’t mentioned the smaller upstairs bar. It has the feel of a more private gathering, while the adjacent gallery booths allow you to overlook the main lower area, which has a gothic appearance that should have been continued upwards instead of the industrial grey ceiling and girders.<br />
<br />
A minor error that may be offset by the intriguing wood-panelled approach to the restaurant in the south of the building, off of which are various doors to toilets and staff areas.<br />
<br />
And if you are looking for the best area to ensconce yourself for a long stay, I’d say take the recessed seating under the mezzanine. A good place for planning and scheming while sipping and sighting.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDwD7LB8btsKVgdrHgvX-JNhol8jhUs-VTQ4s2lOtaTdQLIfvXH0fBOlexsGG9juf3JQlqJd_PUhD1E-Nun7sUjtNX9mE3JMual8O9ni4cgwgnkQ-lFDmmkEMfbdJZe_1V3dOAORiJnQNh/s1600/Hyde+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDwD7LB8btsKVgdrHgvX-JNhol8jhUs-VTQ4s2lOtaTdQLIfvXH0fBOlexsGG9juf3JQlqJd_PUhD1E-Nun7sUjtNX9mE3JMual8O9ni4cgwgnkQ-lFDmmkEMfbdJZe_1V3dOAORiJnQNh/s320/Hyde+1.jpg" /></a><br />
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Cocktails are now de rigueur for any new opening and Hyde, at least swerves from the norm with items such as the Hyde Breakfast Martini and the Daisy de Hyde. More notable still are the craft beer cocktails – variations on a theme, topping up traditional cocktails with various beers. Try the Pamlpehyde Caledonian.<br />
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All of this without yet mentioning the sun/smoking terrace – Hyde’s USP. Simple but elegant furniture comprising half a dozen tables and chairs will allow a good few to enjoy what could be the best elevated bar view in Glasgow, rivalled only by the rooftop vista of 29/One Up.<br />
<br />
If the sun shines I can see one having to get here early for a seat and who knows whether the owners will allow standing drinkers on the terrace. Should such problems arise then it is a good sign for the bar whether business is guaranteed by crowd-drawing food, pre-Sanctuary clubbers, casual afternoon visitors or Hyde proving to a be a night-time draw by itself. <br />
<br />
Successful or not, features such as the terrace will keep me coming back as regularly as time and other bars allow.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
The Pledgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07695094890563847119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4186167151280687868.post-85552799643176452882014-02-28T16:24:00.000+00:002014-02-28T16:24:12.322+00:00Two Stirlingshire Inns - The Gargunnock Inn and The Drymen Inn<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrs8o7QZik33OLNXCzmW4QEYYG-cKat9reQwONEDiSIiEnt52z-Ip1l5FmciStZ9OlS_mpf0YXJ2oAy63Bef0LhLYI62jC0BP3nNDbaQdhZqbnxXSwqZWH9uLF7Zj9Qf5Y0ptLFzc8MqOz/s1600/Gargunnock+Inn.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrs8o7QZik33OLNXCzmW4QEYYG-cKat9reQwONEDiSIiEnt52z-Ip1l5FmciStZ9OlS_mpf0YXJ2oAy63Bef0LhLYI62jC0BP3nNDbaQdhZqbnxXSwqZWH9uLF7Zj9Qf5Y0ptLFzc8MqOz/s320/Gargunnock+Inn.jpg" /></a><br />
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The Gargunnock Inn, 6 Main Street, Gargunnock FK8 3BZ<br />
The Drymen Inn, 5 Stirling Road G63 0BW<br />
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Mostly, it’s the biggest mouth that has the least to shout about. In these days of intense promotion, social media, multiple media platforms and barrels of bullshit this truth is easily overlooked. <br />
<br />
The Drymen Inn in the village of the same name opened a couple of years ago with much noise. Marketing, some people call it. I call it waffle. But all new establishments believe they have to do it.<br />
<br />
However, they should put the first things first, ie run a decent establishment with good booze and food, sympathetic service and high standards of cleanliness. Success flows, mostly, from these essentials not a clever social media strategy.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXyH_VX3psrAjego_L-w7R3XHJ4iv_p9pYsrPGW0oIzTUICZT_nGaVSOzdV7vjdU_mvrZKWIkKipvyeUpYv563DOAbR_BY9YpgozQtJ2PJj3Tc9AC_6AALgT0aeDODCx2O5t4_raxXYyQ9/s1600/Drymen+Inn+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXyH_VX3psrAjego_L-w7R3XHJ4iv_p9pYsrPGW0oIzTUICZT_nGaVSOzdV7vjdU_mvrZKWIkKipvyeUpYv563DOAbR_BY9YpgozQtJ2PJj3Tc9AC_6AALgT0aeDODCx2O5t4_raxXYyQ9/s320/Drymen+Inn+1.jpg" /></a> <br />
<br />
<br />
The large windows of the inn are the thing one notices initially. I sigh when I see them, because virtually every new pub or restaurant deploys them but most people are probably quite impressed by the huge expanse of glass so we can ignore my input as being unrepresentative.<br />
<br />
What we couldn’t ignore was the state of the glass when the Muse and I last visited and sat in the conservatory section. Noticeably smeared and streaky. You can forgive condensation because that can appear despite your best efforts but the mess here was down to a basic lack of care. And the adage of a joint only being as good as its worst cleaner was proven.<br />
<br />
And, sadly, this neglect continued on the tables and the floor, with crumbs everywhere, accompanied by dirt and, presumably, animal hairs. We had planned to order food but after seeing this mess we limited ourselves to drink. <br />
<br />
This slovenliness is disappointing because it detracts from the eclectic interior that has various sections of interest including a wood burning stove and stone pillaring. It manages to achieve that sought-after amalgamation of contemporary and rural with a fair degree of style. Even if there is a slight flaw in layout with far too much room behind the bar itself. Maximise punter space, designers!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjudkqOC4KlJT2IIPBJcOHBgJtmODMYvfZ4AynUcgbl2J_S4hi4D6hoBthoJw43dVJV7EEGZxWF800g_gcKw2Rzz3CLA2bdyDlLgKGQMeKLyYzEL4Qz9-HS5RZoGTIiA1a6d32RdMmh6JaT/s1600/Drymen+Inn+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjudkqOC4KlJT2IIPBJcOHBgJtmODMYvfZ4AynUcgbl2J_S4hi4D6hoBthoJw43dVJV7EEGZxWF800g_gcKw2Rzz3CLA2bdyDlLgKGQMeKLyYzEL4Qz9-HS5RZoGTIiA1a6d32RdMmh6JaT/s320/Drymen+Inn+5.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
So, despite the bad start to our visit we gave the Drymen Inn a second chance. Because of the decent interior, the attractive outdoor furniture and…well, that’s the kind of people we are – exacting but fair.<br />
<br />
But, eventually, we couldn’t ignore other faults that appeared. The service was friendly enough but disinterested. As if they weren’t really bothered if we were there by the window or not. Even when I came to settle our bill. <br />
<br />
At least we had each other to talk to but the single man sitting at the bar could have done with some chat but the two bar persons were too busy talking to each other and then with a couple of other off-duty colleagues who appeared halfway through the afternoon.<br />
<br />
And while I waited to pay I noticed the large glass gantry of their premium drinks. Not appropriate, I feel, for a rural setting and it hints too loudly at profit margins.<br />
<br />
We left a little deflated. A joint not living up to its billing as the flagship pub/restaurant in a village dear to us – we exchanged our vows only two hundred yards down the road.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB5Yyyul1Hh_V7rzeFaLlm4zg4SzI7iqr-jepdYnAQSjCWL5pTkoGDG4r6wVDpo5Dmid2nP_tfWeJPA3bnX6J-mI9c3mpqA_6BceT487c4Sorycn0qLMTbZgKigDjUU0I0OgmL5fY3a790/s1600/Gargunnock+Inn+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB5Yyyul1Hh_V7rzeFaLlm4zg4SzI7iqr-jepdYnAQSjCWL5pTkoGDG4r6wVDpo5Dmid2nP_tfWeJPA3bnX6J-mI9c3mpqA_6BceT487c4Sorycn0qLMTbZgKigDjUU0I0OgmL5fY3a790/s320/Gargunnock+Inn+2.jpg" /></a><br />
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A village we know less well, just ten miles to the east is Gargunnock. Its eponymous inn has been operating for hundreds of years, its profile reflecting the modest size of the local population and the village’s fair distance from Glasgow.<br />
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It is far nearer to Stirling. The main road to that city, the Gargunnock Straights, was known for being the proving ground of boy racers as they displayed their bravado by nudging speedometers higher and higher. Perhaps they still do.<br />
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If you enter from Main Street this is the original inn, part of a row of whitewashed buildings dating from the 1600s. The pub/restaurant of today has extended back to more than double the original space creating a long, thin layout. <br />
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This interior has no less than four different sections, all interesting. The front (if it is the front) is two old rooms with a real fire. Sitting here you can easily imagine the centuries rewinding - you’ve just arrived after a long coach trip or handed your horse over to the groom to take it to the stables, while you warm yourself and look forward to a hearty stew and a warm(ish) bed. Serving wenches are optional.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhc5EzA1nwV9h4c4TTL-3EOK2acMx8kIhjek5jsASTT-CiyeKfMTm9hMhh7elxuXNg2IBPk81mEuFy8RDT-IyxQ39j627VV4IRSEyCgyEYDMSvdhyphenhyphen7572tqUP40l1SxfaoZw3uQZq27jiV/s1600/Gargunnock+Inn+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhc5EzA1nwV9h4c4TTL-3EOK2acMx8kIhjek5jsASTT-CiyeKfMTm9hMhh7elxuXNg2IBPk81mEuFy8RDT-IyxQ39j627VV4IRSEyCgyEYDMSvdhyphenhyphen7572tqUP40l1SxfaoZw3uQZq27jiV/s320/Gargunnock+Inn+4.jpg" /></a><br />
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Further in is the first bar area complete with dining tables. Here they serve good food, simple pub grub but done very competently. The kitchen hatch is on one wall for those of you who like to feel close to the chefs while they work. <br />
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The third area is a hall with another fire and comfortable seating and off this is the public bar, which includes another bar counter, jukebox, and pool table. Perfect for a more relaxed afternoon or evening drinking a session lager or 13. While the hall is more the place for after-lunch/dinner coffees and the newspapers.<br />
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Beyond the hall is the back door leading to the sizeable car park. When you look at the inn from there it appears to be the front, perhaps being the entrance that most locals use? And they do use this place very regularly. As they should. It deserves their custom and that’s the best you can say about a pub.<br />
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The present owners, the Bedwells, have continued the good work of their predecessors maintaining a place that gives credit to its village, and I’m sure that won’t change, no matter how loudly they shout.<br />
The Pledgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07695094890563847119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4186167151280687868.post-23912341003333548702014-01-31T11:09:00.000+00:002014-01-31T11:09:02.262+00:002014 And All That<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmQ2OjMozN3opKQCJqYr6UPeac7wwydlmbBMFR2c41I1Z_CvPlbYDaUdg0KBc15R2zSThmvEvNueLZT_oX1PHPZhWan8ESSA1DOybQeYUUU019A-txaKHpyS7cx9yrayI-U6R8AbwiDUkH/s1600/728px-Declaration_of_arbroath.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmQ2OjMozN3opKQCJqYr6UPeac7wwydlmbBMFR2c41I1Z_CvPlbYDaUdg0KBc15R2zSThmvEvNueLZT_oX1PHPZhWan8ESSA1DOybQeYUUU019A-txaKHpyS7cx9yrayI-U6R8AbwiDUkH/s400/728px-Declaration_of_arbroath.jpg" /></a><br />
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2014 AND ALL THAT<br />
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In this big year for Glasgow and Scotland with the Commonwealth Games and the independence referendum, here’s a look at these events and their impact upon the nation and the licensed trade.<br />
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This piece began a few weeks ago on the rural back roads of Northern Ireland. I was lost, it was raining and my recently re-heeled boots were somehow letting in. The car and my companions, including even The Muse, had abandoned me an hour earlier as I insisted on finding an elusive and secluded watering hole of yore and of some repute.<br />
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I had mislaid the directions received from a bloke on the ferry from Cairnryan but I was determined to find this place, even if it meant getting wetter and colder and the roads/lanes getting even narrower.<br />
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At a bend, just under an arch of dripping ash trees, something struck me. No, nothing solid. Nothing automotive. A thought. More than that. An internal command. Stop searching for the past. Look ahead.<br />
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Simple. Straightforward. And it is an easier action, really. We’re made to look forward, our heads face that way. Yes, there is comfort in the past but it is often illusory and involves a re-writing of one’s history. So, while in this progressive state of mind there is no option but to examine 2014 and its promise. <br />
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It could be a big year, so they say. The biggest in 300 of them, or 700 if you look at it another way. Aye, the Referendum. This is not the forum to discuss it other than to observe that in 1707 the Parcel of Rogues sold Scotland for money and now, according to latest research most of the population would “sell” or “buy” independence merely on how it affects their pocket. No mention of national pride, self-determination, or allegiance to past martyrs to the cause. Very sad.<br />
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And Glasgow hosts the Commonwealth Game, meaning it has its hands on the biggest sporting event here for… er… 28 years. Put that way it doesn’t sound as impressive, does it? <br />
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We have been told that the Games will benefit the city in many ways. The health of the population will drastically improve, world status will be bestowed, total East End regeneration will occur and tourist money will pour in - in trillions. That’s it. Nothing more than those pretty modest objectives.<br />
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Six months from takeoff and even those limited ambitions look, well, ambitious. Agreed, Glasgow will receive more global attention than in a normal year but with the status of the Commonwealth Games as a whole diminishing and its very continued existence placed in real recent doubt, a well-funded and imaginative marketing campaign could have achieved that increased attention on its own and at a far lower cost.<br />
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Glasgow has a record of relatively successful self-promotion from innocent efforts such as Glasgow’s Miles Better to morally dubious re-brandings such as The Merchant City. There has been a too heavy emphasis on high-end retailing as if Buchanan and Ingram Streets can be enough to drive a whole city while the rest is neglected. Meanwhile, aspects of our culture that didn’t quite fit with Glasgow’s shiny remade image, such as our traditional pubs, were neglected or purposely sidelined. Glasgow and Scotland do bars and hospitality well, yet the powers that be felt that our drinking culture should be hidden and certainly not celebrated. <br />
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Things may have improved since politicians finally realised that alcohol “problems” were fuelled by home drinking not in pubs and clubs but I have yet to see a decent, coherent, campaign promoting Glasgow licensed venues during or before the Games’ build-up.<br />
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In this absence I’m intending to do my modest best with a couple of ideas to help the still-beleagured industry. Watch this and related web spaces.<br />
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As for East End regeneration, Dalmarnock, the district with the most Games’ building work, has been eviscerated leaving wide-open spaces adjoining the massive new arenas. Some of what has gone is no great loss but the local community have lost a number of amenities and have to travel to Bridgeton for essentials such as a Post Office. <br />
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The Emirates Arena and Chris Hoy Velodrome (yeah, the same Chris Hoy who, with impeccable timing, retired just before his “home” Games) are to be used by the public after the Games but charges will have to be reduced before locals can experience them. And the Athletes’ Village ability to form housing after August may have been compromised by the, allegedly, cheap plumbing. <br />
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The tourists will need places to eat and drink while in the East End but – correct me if I’m wrong – no new cafes, restaurants or pubs have opened. The pub bit isn’t surprising when you remember the council’s restrictive policy on new licences. Meanwhile, the restaurant owners in the Merchant City lick their lips at the thought of inflated takings. Not to mention the hotel chains poised to raise their tariffs by percentages running into the thousands.<br />
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Money will be come, undoubtedly, but to the wrong people. To the same people as before. Rebirth of neglected areas will be stillborn without a radical midwife, prescribing redistribution. Not only financial, but of opportunity – educational and social. <br />
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And there’s more sport… A golf event up in leafy Gleneagles in which some generous people have volunteered their labour to help out holding scoreboards, raking bunkers, corralling the crowd… wait, I hear they are having to pay for the privilege. Paying to work?! Run that by me again. They are paying to… Alongside the 24 golfer millionaires who won’t pay for a thing. <br />
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But it’s not all doom and inequality. I look forward to new bar openings such as Hyde (wait a moment, I mentioned this last year too) with its daring sun terrace, one of the very few that have been purpose-built. And any other new pubs that are similarly exciting or do something a wee bit different.<br />
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I continue to hope that we allow ourselves to celebrate our drinking culture and tradition instead of our usual self-flagellation and that pride in what we are translates into a burgeoning hospitality sector for Scots and tourists to enjoy, whether this September sees independence or not.<br />
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And on that fateful day and night I have another choice to make - other than the private one in the polling booth – the bar to pick in which to celebrate the new age or drown in sorrow.<br />
The Pledgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07695094890563847119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4186167151280687868.post-56557081004718417542013-12-20T22:40:00.002+00:002013-12-20T22:40:55.979+00:00The Butterfly and the Pig (West) and The Bank Street Bar Kitchen<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBjcVlD2Gnt2-j8uU1W0uhdkdfvFG_eQfhYpgMXk2qXNUpHCIh-4i9ogv_ooReNArUkgndpWm3V7tn3k2wWrnxxWCeqVKRsL0CXkPcRUvsqg9DUgg7_If3u4DLNlJh3m0TCQ63RejoBEoL/s1600/Butterfly+and+Pig+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBjcVlD2Gnt2-j8uU1W0uhdkdfvFG_eQfhYpgMXk2qXNUpHCIh-4i9ogv_ooReNArUkgndpWm3V7tn3k2wWrnxxWCeqVKRsL0CXkPcRUvsqg9DUgg7_If3u4DLNlJh3m0TCQ63RejoBEoL/s320/Butterfly+and+Pig+1.jpg" /></a><br />
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<a href="http://www.thebutterflyandthepig.com/">The Butterfly and the Pig (West)</a>, 2 Partick Bridge Street, Glasgow G11 6PL<br />
The Bank Street Bar Kitchen, 52 Bank Street, Glasgow G12 8LZ<br />
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Can The Butterfly & The Pig (West) and <a href="http://bankst.co.uk/">The Bank Street Bar (Kitchen and Café)</a> succeed where many others have failed in two tricky Glasgow locations that have never yet been the scene of successful pub operations?<br />
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It is a perennial topic on this here blog – is location the key to a bar’s success? Can experienced operators buck previous form for unpopular addresses? Two bars that have opened fairly recently will answer these and related questions by their progress this year and the many (hopefully for them) to come.<br />
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The Butterfly & The Pig, was one of the venues that transformed Bath Street from a stretch of city centre offices into an entertainment districts. B&P’s kitsch interior and miss-matching crockery has been much imitated and seen by some as a major trend setter but this humble reviewer actually preferred the bar before it, Spy Bar, despite the silly name.<br />
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But now, following the precedent of Bar Soba replicating a city-centre name in Byres Road, B&P has taken over the troublesome site at the very bottom of the same street. Specifically under the modern flats built around 15 years ago on ground most famous for the Volcano nightclub, a favourite west-end last stop for the reasonably trendy and a notable location in the shooting of <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0117951/locations">Trainspotting</a>.<br />
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Whites/500 Club was the first to fill the commercial unit beneath the expensive residences and for a while they prospered on a pre-club crowd mostly heading for the, then, Boho. That nightclub, however, continued for a lot longer than the bar here. It closed in the early 2000s and since then a variety of operators have tried their luck, the most ambitious being craft beer purveyor, <a href="http://thebarbiographer.blogspot.co.uk/2012/01/bruadar.html">Bruadar.</a> It too closed despite (or because of) its earnest intentions.<br />
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The B&P are probably a more hard headed bunch, and less interested in the niceties of craft beers. More footfall, branding and adding value through food. And the branding part means that you get the B&P look merely stenciled onto the canvas that was an empty bar. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgy7-5scMH5ITHxZ0jXPGc6i6Os3p7ar6tnPQXuTVl9Gf3W9lnCY8x2nqPrUIpJKNqk5BJmLTgcnQgzO1J5gPKGpxKJvZ-tucWQCmgETqdZC_bF2nL8mmlLTJ4NhMw97ociov1sWfxfUz7/s1600/Butterfly+and+Pig+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgy7-5scMH5ITHxZ0jXPGc6i6Os3p7ar6tnPQXuTVl9Gf3W9lnCY8x2nqPrUIpJKNqk5BJmLTgcnQgzO1J5gPKGpxKJvZ-tucWQCmgETqdZC_bF2nL8mmlLTJ4NhMw97ociov1sWfxfUz7/s320/Butterfly+and+Pig+3.jpg" /></a><br />
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It’s the kind of interior that your wealthy great aunt would inflict on every room of her substantial flat, commemorating past familial generations, as far back as Edwardian, with layers of different styles of furniture and fittings. Or, perhaps, the waiting room of an eccentric notary who has decided to be left behind by the 20th and 21st centuries.<br />
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All very charming and appropriate, maybe, for the basements of the elegant Victorian sandstone terrace of Bath Street, not so in a modern building of brick and large windows. No, this context requires a brushed steel counter, the very latest in drink dispensing, clean lines and even some glitz - of the knowing kind, of course. And you could add in some splashes of fabric for warmth.<br />
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Lack of warmth is something you experience in the basement toilets here, the un-insulated nature of this area has always been the case but now it seems to have crept upstairs too, I just couldn’t get comfortable no matter where I sat but the coldest part of all was the strange raised area in the corner. It looks and feels more like a place of interrogation than of pleasurable imbibing. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg02Qnket3SMC2kPVtBYot-llSBJOJAxtkbwI8Y5fmm2mhzsYzmRlauOCT_ECPVWMNmt3gD_lRRriS2g1tiH0hWQGICuS-ogcuhAfCg6w_jPouMG4eQv4NFOp9srxqsQZ7FkVET0UPPWWec/s1600/Butterfly+and+Pig+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg02Qnket3SMC2kPVtBYot-llSBJOJAxtkbwI8Y5fmm2mhzsYzmRlauOCT_ECPVWMNmt3gD_lRRriS2g1tiH0hWQGICuS-ogcuhAfCg6w_jPouMG4eQv4NFOp9srxqsQZ7FkVET0UPPWWec/s320/Butterfly+and+Pig+2.jpg" /></a><br />
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The money behind B&P means that it will last for a while even if the takings are low but eventually we will find out if its incongruity will outweigh the trade it gets from dedicated but undiscerning brand followers.<br />
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Number 52 Bank Street has an even longer history of failure than number 2 Partick Bridge Street. Joe’s Garage, a licensed restaurant reasonably popular with GU students partial to a cheap burger, was there from at least the late ‘80s but it has been gone for at least a decade and a half.<br />
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Since then? Nothing really. A few eaterie attempts failed despite plenty of effort, I’m sure. The difficult nature of the site prevailed. But why exactly? Parking isn’t ideal on this corner but a lot of establishments have awkward access.<br />
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At the time of Joe’s Garage there were no actual pubs nearby – apart from the GU union – but there was a curry house and a pizza/pasta joint. Now, <a href="http://thebarbiographer.blogspot.co.uk/2010/11/people-will-wander-stravaigin.html">Stravaigin</a> and The Left Bank are long-standing Gibson Street fixtures perhaps making the area ripe for another settler.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSNZjsZ0X3mL7P5dLE4CWCYk6yfxN1drSRPXlPkJRg7cA4hGfT-6Mkp0S-xHkVjrD0kniY72XS59ol97rN4hIb-2J4vG8NgbCEcPpshG_JQLq2BYAknErCLQJExQygYnV3ZcXBhN0SvvkO/s1600/Bank+Street+bar+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSNZjsZ0X3mL7P5dLE4CWCYk6yfxN1drSRPXlPkJRg7cA4hGfT-6Mkp0S-xHkVjrD0kniY72XS59ol97rN4hIb-2J4vG8NgbCEcPpshG_JQLq2BYAknErCLQJExQygYnV3ZcXBhN0SvvkO/s320/Bank+Street+bar+2.jpg" /></a><br />
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The Bank Street Bar, Kitchen and Café lets you know what is on offer. Booze, grub and… coffee and tea. You would think that all these delights are under one roof, so to speak, but no, the café is separate from the bar/kitchen and is of the traditional Glasgow sort. <br />
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The bar is a split-level affair with the upstairs tables a decent option because the large windows afford a view outside. The overall interior is white and bright with a modest counter area and gantry. Quite fresh in feeling and not lacking in quirks due to an interesting variety of light fittings. There is exposed brick and beam but we won’t hold that against them. One word of warning – don’t sit in the leather couch in the left corner if you intend to make it a short visit - easy to get into, hard to escape from.<br />
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That they’ve done well on a small budget is apparent in the limited menus. Probably the smallest range of wine and spirits I’ve seen in a while and the food is basic, with burgers taking prominence, just like at Joe’s Garage. None of this may matter as they are going, I believe, for the student market. Let them go for it.<br />
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A success here may push the Gibson Street Quarter towards that point where it attracts further interest and becomes the next Finnieston. Depending, of course, on the Licensing Board. Their role is central in all aspects imbibing. With a more enlightened attitude popular areas could respond to demand and adventurous sorts could open completely new bars in areas that could do with a boost. And the question I posed at the beginning of this blog would become redundant.<br />
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The Pledgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07695094890563847119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4186167151280687868.post-17996653616301328782013-11-26T21:21:00.000+00:002013-11-26T21:34:44.492+00:00Amsterdam <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2D2g_CB3R3F9SU9_5wYerm3aJfPOm5y2frY_RKJaNmfNiqIDHh9ZzpGeJPJNCoUqi0AFlATGUeqbyexRtCRacjM3IC4-L1ztPJgGQ_SacmAdv0N9afkZHnX6LhHDOhLdlrqhc66jjnSx_/s1600/Amsterdam+3.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2D2g_CB3R3F9SU9_5wYerm3aJfPOm5y2frY_RKJaNmfNiqIDHh9ZzpGeJPJNCoUqi0AFlATGUeqbyexRtCRacjM3IC4-L1ztPJgGQ_SacmAdv0N9afkZHnX6LhHDOhLdlrqhc66jjnSx_/s320/Amsterdam+3.jpg" /></a><br />
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Amsterdam offers hedonists a place where they can indulge in safety, relatively free of state intervention. Even the humble alcohol user can have extra fun here. The Dutch are very proud of their traditional pubs, the legendary brown cafes, and once you’ve visited you’ll see why.<br />
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Northern Europe, not the Med, offers the closest thing to British drinking habits you’ll find anywhere. Maybe the Costas’ pubs provide an even more home-from-home experience but those are expat bars so can’t count.<br />
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Amongst those countries - Germany, Scandinavia, Poland, even Belgium – Holland is the neatest fit. They even go big on darts, for fuck’s sake. So, for an urban pub-goer seeking a holiday where bars are not only at the centre of the fun but in which the culture is understandable straight from one’s arrival in the city, Amsterdam is as good a destination as any. And it has a distinct advantage over the UK in the way it describes its pubs as I will explain later.<br />
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I’ve now been four times, thrice BBB. Eventful trips involving a mugging, hallucinations, disorientation and a near drowning. This time was a safer experience but not without its pleasures.<br />
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Concentrating on the Nieuwmarkt, Red Light/Medieval Centre and Jordaan areas one finds a density of drinking venues unparalleled in a working city of this size. Everything is crammed in but in some style. The historic economic necessity of remaining compact creating beauty and practicality today. The countless canals just further reduce the space.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9xh9KJm6FFCH8mH3JKJ8RXIavQ2Mo2Xl6WS76I8qy60QNWKQiiWNkyW5U5Q8-biOmLb09036OmvwFt6tDDGcowNOP6GxkGgly-YsRoZhrmG0VbN_UoK-y1LFeGOVCudms2kl_KNEOWoMh/s1600/Amsterdam+10.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9xh9KJm6FFCH8mH3JKJ8RXIavQ2Mo2Xl6WS76I8qy60QNWKQiiWNkyW5U5Q8-biOmLb09036OmvwFt6tDDGcowNOP6GxkGgly-YsRoZhrmG0VbN_UoK-y1LFeGOVCudms2kl_KNEOWoMh/s320/Amsterdam+10.jpg" /></a><br />
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Amsterdam isn’t afraid of its past and its bars show this. The Golden Age of the 16th century during which those canals were constructed is celebrated in pictorial form in many pubs including our first stop Café de Dam – an ordinary wee place near Dam square. A tableau depicting Amsterdam as a hub of sea-borne trade, with countless sails billowing at every corner of the city.<br />
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A very typical pub this with a small, dark wooden interior. Every feature narrow from the frontage to the incredibly steep stairs up to the toilet. I met a Dutchman struggling upwards as I was about to descend. “Great stuff!” he exclaimed and I wondered how long he had held that phrase before using it.<br />
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This, the oldest part of the city is chocked with such little pubs. All worthy of a wee drop in. Less so are the ones that are so anglified you would think your North Sea ferry went right at Dogger Bank. We experienced a couple, by mistake, Café Trinity and the Old Sailor Bar. Just as swervable are the Irish pubs that appear here as they do in every city centre across the globe. Don’t go in. Do something different.<br />
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That ‘different’ could well involve any number of other drugs – look at the picture below taken on a typical street around here – how many available and legal substances can you spot? Alcohol, maruijana, caffeine, red meat at least. The other stimulant/narcotic – if I can call flesh and blood this - you would expect is just around the corner, exhibited in red backlit rooms. And the endorphins from exertion may also be nearby if there’s a back street-gym just out of sight.<br />
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>a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5kpJsHkW1xzYGSutswCZ8k0Hnl1q1XmYKfsbT4pYmbkYjFOA8gxnchaRlGVdF_4KSU5tfYtEPPON_UgxQHQRVN4YCYlbeMVIJTG8l81_16sQ5tjj-ZIu9QB2ur27cVUk4lIl7yf0vzWhB/s1600/Amsterdam+6.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5kpJsHkW1xzYGSutswCZ8k0Hnl1q1XmYKfsbT4pYmbkYjFOA8gxnchaRlGVdF_4KSU5tfYtEPPON_UgxQHQRVN4YCYlbeMVIJTG8l81_16sQ5tjj-ZIu9QB2ur27cVUk4lIl7yf0vzWhB/s320/Amsterdam+6.jpg" /><a><br />
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Or, for a more relaxing time you can chill in a variety of student hang-outs such as the split-level Buster’s Café which is more of a seminar venue than a binge joint. <br />
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If the Medieval district is indeed the heart of the city, two adjacent ventricles offer slightly different nighttime delights. Nieuwmarkt, to the east, has more space and a number of more sophisticated bars both in the square itself and in the streets branching off.<br />
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Café Fonteyn was one of my picks and has a less frenetic feel that the bars of the Red Light District. A place for sipping and conversing about art and design or French movies. Quite agreeable, up to a point. For even more elegance and a little more party we then moved to Café Cuba for mojitos and longed for sunshine to enjoy Niewumarkt square, if not the Caribbean. <br />
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Moving further away from the market square this district holds many side -treet bars and local corner cafes – places such as Café Captein by Binnekant Canal which can feature a sing-song and associated revelry just as likely as a quiet brandy contemplating the canal-side evening.<br />
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Our house boat – I recommend this way of living to everyone – floated on that very canal, to the east of the medieval centre. To the west is Jordaan, a once working class area that retains its reputation for having the best selection of pubs per capita.<br />
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Authenticity is supposed to be the worthwhile characteristic of these Jordaan joints. For this is the land of the brown café. Aged places that wear their longevity with pride, up to and including the brown tobacco staining on the walls - from decades, if not centuries, of use. Thus the colour(ful) name.<br />
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And thus, as I mentioned right at the start, the Dutch have a name for traditional watering holes that, as a branding exercise would give modern marketers wet dreams. Brown café evokes cosiness and conviviality in joints with tangible histories. The more you have the more you feel it. Over here we call them old men’s bars or traditional bars and so we sell them short. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisl-o9BvhwUx0rf6BfsdakQ4S_AVzXCk-nHZfgnY1ZF9JsM6DbY31MmbRpiFaiTLtwaUU_fgULL_Zd3nDEsqvE5qW00K-ismFlXODacFLd9XAh1vP90kl33cr-FPYlnGxaTXvCB7C24qAN/s1600/Amsterdam+4.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisl-o9BvhwUx0rf6BfsdakQ4S_AVzXCk-nHZfgnY1ZF9JsM6DbY31MmbRpiFaiTLtwaUU_fgULL_Zd3nDEsqvE5qW00K-ismFlXODacFLd9XAh1vP90kl33cr-FPYlnGxaTXvCB7C24qAN/s320/Amsterdam+4.jpg" /></a><br />
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Anyway, Jordaan is famous for its brown cafes most of which sit on the corners of streets and pull in all ages. Café Eland, on Prinsengracht, is a typical example. Compact and dark. Furniture and fittings as old as the building. Worn in, you could say. And all the better for it. Places to sit all day. Read the papers. Down a beer. Sip a coffee. Chat a bit. Have another drink. Repeat as often as you want.<br />
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The nearby Café de Pels and the much- lauded Café ‘t Smalle offer their variation on a theme – take your pick or just do as many as you can. At some point you’ll experience what the locals call gezelligheid. A warm sensation of well being and brotherhood that only bars/cafes can give. Having a few jenevers to chase down the beers helps.<br />
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Other attractions around this general part of town could include a coffee and brandy at Luxembourg (defined as a Grand Café) in Spui, a rival in elegance to the coffee houses of Vienna. And a Texels bock in one of the oldest restaurants, the raftered Haesje Claes. This was described in some guidebooks as being “touristy”. I don’t agree. “Touristy” is the myriad of generic steakhouses on or around Damrak.<br />
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This trip wasn’t without its disappointments though. It rained almost throughout. Our Sunday evening visit to Der Sluyswacht, the most famous Nieuwmarkt pub found this tiny former canal keeper’s house shut for the night. One of the most highly regarded brown cafes – De Pieper was also shuttered after I’d walked for over 20 minutes in the rain to find it. <br />
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Some places failed to live up to their promise. One such being Café Het Schuim on Spuistraat. Billed as a quirky extrovert of a place it only reminded me of uninspiring venues on or near our own King Street. And nostalgia for previous trips led to a wasted traipse to Rembrandtplein which on this wet, windswept night was virtually closed. Taking refuge in La Bastille bar nearby we swiftly realised this was a tourist trap of the worst sort – boring, that is.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicGv51arNAFyV8PzQ0K0-3NVnqqyuZhnPcRoZTgNDnsPVl-9CljaHzBgyG1YqxehIC4q9vOFXmNKSw63n3zXfMHaJlVnSxVwuJLWvur6zvVL2qAaJR-N_41QlM-1vjyxPocmKxhHgFiNPo/s1600/Amsterdam+11.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicGv51arNAFyV8PzQ0K0-3NVnqqyuZhnPcRoZTgNDnsPVl-9CljaHzBgyG1YqxehIC4q9vOFXmNKSw63n3zXfMHaJlVnSxVwuJLWvur6zvVL2qAaJR-N_41QlM-1vjyxPocmKxhHgFiNPo/s320/Amsterdam+11.jpg" /></a><br />
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But these setbacks are at the back of my mind, left far behind. What I remember far more clearly is a little bar on Lange Niezel – Café Weiner. I walked into it at random on our first afternoon. Another cosy little place with football scarves covering every inch of the ceiling and a mostly middle-aged bunch of regulars. I noticed those elements after first being struck by an amazing sight – ashtrays! Indoors!<br />
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I looked around at the other punters. No knowing smiles or winks. Looking back at the black, shiny ashtray sitting there on the counter I wondered if this was a trick. Either of my eyes or of the police, who could be hiding in the cellar or a stock cupboard ready to pounce. But this was Holland. Land of liberty.<br />
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So, I lit up my panatella and enjoyed my first proper indoor smoke in seven years. No officer of the law appeared and no-one else paid any notice. They continued to chat and drink and some of them smoked.<br />
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On our last evening I brought the Muse with me. As I approached the bar the barman asked me if I’d just smoked a joint. I smiled but shook my head. “What do you think I am,” I asked “The Hash Hack rather than the Bar Biographer?” He looked puzzled but humour never really works directed at those using a second language.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKSl03rtEJDA81D8oDVvLypYZ9DrD8XgjJamsf5rmDgL1IUA9gXxIo4PquBshmNoU485NV1yK5ub_8maF_8aMH9r_VHHnOKpKOhwRGuUv9Di5OnxkQEOgzZ2QdFW-x9qItYGnIqBhP-Dz0/s1600/Amsterdam+2.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKSl03rtEJDA81D8oDVvLypYZ9DrD8XgjJamsf5rmDgL1IUA9gXxIo4PquBshmNoU485NV1yK5ub_8maF_8aMH9r_VHHnOKpKOhwRGuUv9Di5OnxkQEOgzZ2QdFW-x9qItYGnIqBhP-Dz0/s320/Amsterdam+2.jpg" /></a><br />
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Perhaps I looked pale but it was just excitement at my imminent VegaFina robusto. And puffing on that monster I ruminated on the smoking laws here and on freedoms in general. The exact legal position on smoking in public places, I couldn’t establish, but this and other pubs response to the law encapsulates the Dutch way of life and way of thinking. <br />
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They look at a law or a moral standpoint and think about balance. The balance between the freedom of the individual and the state enforcing its will. If there is negligible or debatable harm to others caused by an action they will always err on the side of freedom. And if the ‘harm’ is confined the individual themselves they will stay well out of it.<br />
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And my advice for anyone visiting Amsterdam from these islands, is in the same vein – do something that is illegal in the UK. <br />
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The Pledgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07695094890563847119noreply@blogger.com1