Another curdled weekend
A few drinks after work at the Old Cheshire Cheese on Fleet Street on Friday (details here from beerintheevening.com, an excellent site)
The pub dates from 1667 and it's steeped in history. Apparently.
Y'know the sort of thing - Samuel Johnson shat himself in the Snug Bar after a bender with Boswell, there's a ghost of a headless woman with no body and Dickens's cat used to widdle in the beer. It has an appropriately cheesy website.
Spent much of the evening ranting about Tony Banks MP who is chucking in the towel at the next election because he feels like a "high-powered social worker". Diddums.
I would be proud to hold down a job that could be described as high-powered social work. I'm old-fashioned enough to be believe that contributing to the social fabric of the nation state is something to be lauded, not derided.
Course, I'd also be proud to be the keyboard player for Genesis. Which Tony Banks would you rather be?
Failed miserably to attend the Russian Festival in Trafalgar Sq on Saturday (owing to brutal hangover and having to attend to this silly sod who passed out on my kitchen floor.)
I hear there were renditions of traditional Soviet songs such as "My Old Man's a KGB Informant", "It's A Long Way to Chechnya" and "I'm Going To The Gulag In The Morning"*
Managed to make it as far as Gordon's Wine Bar to meet some pals (including this one). This tiny bar manages to be even more steeped in history - it's practically pickled in the stuff. It was also four-deep at the bar with not much more space elsewhere.
So we decided we should repair to a nice, big, cosy pub within easy distance that served bread and cheese and competitively-priced strong drink. Guess which one we went to? I'll give you a clue: Dickens's cat used to widdle in the beer...
*If you think they were bad, "Ukraine-Drops Keep Falling On My Head" nearly made it on the list.
The pub dates from 1667 and it's steeped in history. Apparently.
Y'know the sort of thing - Samuel Johnson shat himself in the Snug Bar after a bender with Boswell, there's a ghost of a headless woman with no body and Dickens's cat used to widdle in the beer. It has an appropriately cheesy website.
Spent much of the evening ranting about Tony Banks MP who is chucking in the towel at the next election because he feels like a "high-powered social worker". Diddums.
I would be proud to hold down a job that could be described as high-powered social work. I'm old-fashioned enough to be believe that contributing to the social fabric of the nation state is something to be lauded, not derided.
Course, I'd also be proud to be the keyboard player for Genesis. Which Tony Banks would you rather be?
Failed miserably to attend the Russian Festival in Trafalgar Sq on Saturday (owing to brutal hangover and having to attend to this silly sod who passed out on my kitchen floor.)
I hear there were renditions of traditional Soviet songs such as "My Old Man's a KGB Informant", "It's A Long Way to Chechnya" and "I'm Going To The Gulag In The Morning"*
Managed to make it as far as Gordon's Wine Bar to meet some pals (including this one). This tiny bar manages to be even more steeped in history - it's practically pickled in the stuff. It was also four-deep at the bar with not much more space elsewhere.
So we decided we should repair to a nice, big, cosy pub within easy distance that served bread and cheese and competitively-priced strong drink. Guess which one we went to? I'll give you a clue: Dickens's cat used to widdle in the beer...
*If you think they were bad, "Ukraine-Drops Keep Falling On My Head" nearly made it on the list.
posted by Scattergun @ 7:53 am
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