Weather: Still freaking cold.
Music venues on a Thursday are thankfully still pretty plentiful in our neck of the woods. That's not to say that there are hundreds of them, but there are a few that are worth a visit. One of the more regular stops for "that kind of thing" for us, is "The Ridge and Furrow"
One of our members has imposed his own self-ban on the basis that he's either a) terrified of the bouncer, or b) terrified that he doesn't remember exactly how it was he came to be impersonating a leprechaun - complete with serenading a taxi driver. However, all that aside, let's talk about the pub.
To be fair - it's a bit of a hovel. Sort of sticky carpets, early 80's décor updated in the early 90's and still looking a bit rough around the edges. It's sited next to a sodding great supermarket, slap bang in the middle of a rabbit-warren of a housing estate and is purpose built for the residents of said estate. It serves the needs of those that work hard all week and want to spend their wages blotting the fact out, or those that do sod all all week, and want to spend their benefits blotting the fact out. Inevitably, where two such cultures meet, this can often result in a bit of a punch up - and often does.
As such - it has a bit of a reputation. It's a party pub of a place and even though it's rowdy, it's an enjoyable rowdy. What helps it along is it's layout. It's been cleverly crafted into a two tier pub with a restaurant (of sorts) out the back. In the old days you'd think of the lower tier as a bear-pit or possibly somewhere for the crowd to gather round on the upper tier and watch the cock-fighting on the lower tier. Nowadays, the lower tier is considered to be more of a dance-floor, or a stage (for the purposes of live music). Cock-fighting still takes place though - just more in the form of drunken cocks, fighting.
On this particular Thursday, Chubby and his band mates were making the most of the lower tier and filling it with instruments of a musical nature with which to entertain the crowd. "The Shy Teds" (for that is their chosen name) are a band of excellent quality able to play just about anything in the song book of popular music when they put their minds to it. A drummer, a couple of guitarists, a vocalist and Chubby's little fingers on the piano forte make for a beautifully crafted sound with bits of rock and pop liberally scattered about. Apart from their name, they're a band you'd be happy to take home to your mum. They can please everyone and the crowd generally goes wild.... ish.
So there we have it.... Beers were consumed as per... and the three of us were joined by Chubby both before and during his half time break for a swift couple of pints. All most enjoyable.
While it's a bit of a dive as pubs go, we wouldn't want to see it closed, and yet this is going to be the case. Typically, in a world where money is more important than enjoying what little money you may have, the local supermarket (in this case Morrisons) have shelled out some cash to by the plot the pub is built on, knock it flat and stick in a petrol station. A sad day for the losers of the area, but a good day for "The Turmot Hoer" just up the road - who will no doubt be employing bouncers and enrolling their staff in karate lessons as we speak.
Next week - also as per - wasn't drawn from the hat, so without further ado, here it is.
Ladies and Jellyspoons - we will be partaking of a beverage or three in Number 16: "The York". Now, this is a little concerning, due to it being reminiscent of someone's front room. However, in view of trying to make a night of it - I'm suggestion a stop on the way in "England's Glory", and then possibly a detour afterwards over to "The Kingsholm Inn/The Jockey" and possibly rounding things off in that old favourite, "The Cross Keys Inn" or "Cafe Rene"...
Let's hear what you have to say in the comments. Or by email....
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