And four, four, four for my headaches
Feb. 9th, 2005 02:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ventaI don't think this is fair.
Pintwatch has been unusually active of late. On Wednesday last week it was checking that the Marsh Harrier's London Pride was up to scratch (it was), though a little on the pricey side at £2.65. On Thursday night it sampled a pint of Tribute (this is not the greatest pint in the world, but this is Tribute...), from the St Austell brewery in Cornwall, which was lovely. On Friday, it paid a much more acceptable £2.30 for Morland's Original in The Fir Tree.
On Saturday night, Pintwatch put on its gladrags and went out to Crimes Against Pop, at the Buffalo Bar in Islington.
Crimes Against Pop has a professed music policy of "pop, off-kilter indie, electronica and eclectica". Which is very similar to what the professed music policy ("off-kilter indie, post rock and eclectica") of Strange Fruit was. And several of the same people are involved. This led me to expect them to be very similar.
Which is why I ended up somewhat confused last time I went to CAP. This time I heeded ChrisC's warning - you should go to CAP expecting to dance to Britney and The Jacksons - and as a result had a great time. They did play both Britney and the Jacksons, but also the Pixies, Outkast, Belle & Sebastian, Nancy Sinatra (kinda) and The Killers.
Which made for an interesting mixture, which all just worked, somehow. ChrisC and I arrived reasonably late on, having spent most of the evening stuffing ourselves full of Japanese food and strolling round bits of central London. I'm still trying (in vain) to match my fuzzy ideas of geography up to reality. So, apparently, by the time we arrived, the music had settled down into the more mainstream - earlier on the policy is more or less "play what you damn well want". Which could be interesting :)
And again, I'm reminded why I like indie clubs. Whether it's real or imagined on my part, there seems to be a lot less self-consciousness and image-consciousness than you find in the average goth night. Besides, having missed the last few Intrusions due to being just too damn tired to be up that late on a school night, it's actually some time since I've made it to a club at all. And I like flailing about to music. Although, on a crowded dancefloor, I should learn to flail less wildly, because when Mr Elbow meets Mr Wall at speed, Mr Elbow comes off worse.
CAP also makes me feel oddly nostalgic, despite my having only been there once before, as it reminds me of my fondest club-memories. All through my third year at University, ChrisC and I used to trek each week to the IMSOC music night, which ran in a similar, cramped basement-bar. OK, to be accurate, I didn't really trek anywhere, I lived directly opposite the club so barely did more than a quick scurry. But I remember them as immensely fun nights, with good music and good company, and they've pretty much been my club-benchmark ever since.
In common with nightclubs everywhere, the Buffalo Bar does not serve any bitter, let alone decent stuff, so Pintwatch had to drink bottles of Tiger lager - a sad case of lie back and think of Everard's.
On Sunday, Pintwatch graciously agreed to drink wine with the somewhat epic lunch on offer.
You see, I arrived at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
davefish's at around midday, just as he was making noises about it being time to start cooking. Gentle enquiry revealed that he was planning a five course meal, three courses of which were technically made entirely of cheese. Well, OK, the French onion soup wasn't made entirely of cheese.
Davefish cooked, and I acted as galleyslave, and around half three Vicky andnaranek arrived, Louis was called down from upstairs and we started eating. And drinking. And we carried on eating and drinking until about half seven. And there was roast beef and everything. Now that's what I call Sunday lunch.
Unsurprisingly, nobody moved much after it. Davefish, Louis and I found the energy to do the washing up, then wound up sitting on the kitchen floor drinking, because we were too lazy to move to the comfy chairs.
I have now finally tried the Becherovka that Davefish has been championing for ages. It tastes mostly (to me) of cinnamon, though Dave reckons it's "clovey". Louis is firmly in the anti- camp, claiming that it tastes variously of musty carpets, old ladies' front rooms, and abandoned steel works in Sheffield. I have to admit that I can kind of see his point - it does leave an odd aftertaste on the tongue that I'm not entirely happy with, so I don't see it becoming a huge factor in my drinking in the near future.
Once we staggered into the front room, we watched a couple of episodes of the first series of Black Books, which I've had recommended to me by various people. I'm pleased to say that it did live up to expectations, though there are probably people who think the Irish character is a caricature. Those people have not spent much time round second-hand bookshops..
On Monday and Tuesday Pintwatch had some time off, and I contented myself with drinking nothing stronger than tea. Monday also involved Part I of His Dark Materials, of which more later.
So why, oh why[*], do I feel staggeringly hungover today ? I don't think it's fair.
In general, for the purposes of designating weekly heroes, my weeks are held to start on Mondays. However, I'm going to cheat slightly, and start this week on Sunday, so I can have two heroes from last weekend.
This week's designated hero is Davefish, for providing an all-round splendid lunching experience, with good food, good wine and good conversation. More meals should include that many courses, and should inpsire sentences like "I wish to complain about the tensile strength of these biscuits".
Naming the Designated Hero for the current Week as early as Wednesday is of course very dangerous - everyone I know is obliged to be weasly, cowardly, caddish and downright unheroic until next Sunday to avoid upsetting the books.
Last week's designated hero is Ian, for playing a truly wonderful track at Crimes Against Pop. He was playing the last set of the evening, and opened with the Muppet Show Theme Tune - which pleased me greatly. However, I had forgotten that Ian often plays bootlegs[+] when he DJs, and so as I was dancing away I was taken quite by surprise:
It's time to get things started at the .... Gay bar, gay bar, gay bar
Fantastic.
[+] By which I don't mean low-quality illegal live recordings, but tracks created by mixing two or more other songs together. Sometimes called mash-ups.
[*] 0.75 of a yoyo.
Pintwatch has been unusually active of late. On Wednesday last week it was checking that the Marsh Harrier's London Pride was up to scratch (it was), though a little on the pricey side at £2.65. On Thursday night it sampled a pint of Tribute (this is not the greatest pint in the world, but this is Tribute...), from the St Austell brewery in Cornwall, which was lovely. On Friday, it paid a much more acceptable £2.30 for Morland's Original in The Fir Tree.
On Saturday night, Pintwatch put on its gladrags and went out to Crimes Against Pop, at the Buffalo Bar in Islington.
Crimes Against Pop has a professed music policy of "pop, off-kilter indie, electronica and eclectica". Which is very similar to what the professed music policy ("off-kilter indie, post rock and eclectica") of Strange Fruit was. And several of the same people are involved. This led me to expect them to be very similar.
Which is why I ended up somewhat confused last time I went to CAP. This time I heeded ChrisC's warning - you should go to CAP expecting to dance to Britney and The Jacksons - and as a result had a great time. They did play both Britney and the Jacksons, but also the Pixies, Outkast, Belle & Sebastian, Nancy Sinatra (kinda) and The Killers.
Which made for an interesting mixture, which all just worked, somehow. ChrisC and I arrived reasonably late on, having spent most of the evening stuffing ourselves full of Japanese food and strolling round bits of central London. I'm still trying (in vain) to match my fuzzy ideas of geography up to reality. So, apparently, by the time we arrived, the music had settled down into the more mainstream - earlier on the policy is more or less "play what you damn well want". Which could be interesting :)
And again, I'm reminded why I like indie clubs. Whether it's real or imagined on my part, there seems to be a lot less self-consciousness and image-consciousness than you find in the average goth night. Besides, having missed the last few Intrusions due to being just too damn tired to be up that late on a school night, it's actually some time since I've made it to a club at all. And I like flailing about to music. Although, on a crowded dancefloor, I should learn to flail less wildly, because when Mr Elbow meets Mr Wall at speed, Mr Elbow comes off worse.
CAP also makes me feel oddly nostalgic, despite my having only been there once before, as it reminds me of my fondest club-memories. All through my third year at University, ChrisC and I used to trek each week to the IMSOC music night, which ran in a similar, cramped basement-bar. OK, to be accurate, I didn't really trek anywhere, I lived directly opposite the club so barely did more than a quick scurry. But I remember them as immensely fun nights, with good music and good company, and they've pretty much been my club-benchmark ever since.
In common with nightclubs everywhere, the Buffalo Bar does not serve any bitter, let alone decent stuff, so Pintwatch had to drink bottles of Tiger lager - a sad case of lie back and think of Everard's.
On Sunday, Pintwatch graciously agreed to drink wine with the somewhat epic lunch on offer.
You see, I arrived at
davefish's at around midday, just as he was making noises about it being time to start cooking. Gentle enquiry revealed that he was planning a five course meal, three courses of which were technically made entirely of cheese. Well, OK, the French onion soup wasn't made entirely of cheese. Davefish cooked, and I acted as galleyslave, and around half three Vicky and
naranek arrived, Louis was called down from upstairs and we started eating. And drinking. And we carried on eating and drinking until about half seven. And there was roast beef and everything. Now that's what I call Sunday lunch. Unsurprisingly, nobody moved much after it. Davefish, Louis and I found the energy to do the washing up, then wound up sitting on the kitchen floor drinking, because we were too lazy to move to the comfy chairs.
I have now finally tried the Becherovka that Davefish has been championing for ages. It tastes mostly (to me) of cinnamon, though Dave reckons it's "clovey". Louis is firmly in the anti- camp, claiming that it tastes variously of musty carpets, old ladies' front rooms, and abandoned steel works in Sheffield. I have to admit that I can kind of see his point - it does leave an odd aftertaste on the tongue that I'm not entirely happy with, so I don't see it becoming a huge factor in my drinking in the near future.
Once we staggered into the front room, we watched a couple of episodes of the first series of Black Books, which I've had recommended to me by various people. I'm pleased to say that it did live up to expectations, though there are probably people who think the Irish character is a caricature. Those people have not spent much time round second-hand bookshops..
On Monday and Tuesday Pintwatch had some time off, and I contented myself with drinking nothing stronger than tea. Monday also involved Part I of His Dark Materials, of which more later.
So why, oh why[*], do I feel staggeringly hungover today ? I don't think it's fair.
In general, for the purposes of designating weekly heroes, my weeks are held to start on Mondays. However, I'm going to cheat slightly, and start this week on Sunday, so I can have two heroes from last weekend.
This week's designated hero is Davefish, for providing an all-round splendid lunching experience, with good food, good wine and good conversation. More meals should include that many courses, and should inpsire sentences like "I wish to complain about the tensile strength of these biscuits".
Naming the Designated Hero for the current Week as early as Wednesday is of course very dangerous - everyone I know is obliged to be weasly, cowardly, caddish and downright unheroic until next Sunday to avoid upsetting the books.
Last week's designated hero is Ian, for playing a truly wonderful track at Crimes Against Pop. He was playing the last set of the evening, and opened with the Muppet Show Theme Tune - which pleased me greatly. However, I had forgotten that Ian often plays bootlegs[+] when he DJs, and so as I was dancing away I was taken quite by surprise:
It's time to get things started at the .... Gay bar, gay bar, gay bar
Fantastic.
[+] By which I don't mean low-quality illegal live recordings, but tracks created by mixing two or more other songs together. Sometimes called mash-ups.
[*] 0.75 of a yoyo.
