A friend of mine had a
gig in a pub in the Hackney are of London called 'The Shacklewell
Arms'. I could have sworn I recognised the name but failed to dig
down into the far reaches of my brain and remember how or why, or if
I had ever been there before.
I did a few bits in the
morning and afternoon. Like viewing the Allen Jones exhibition at the
Royal Academy. After that I had a pint and a bit to eat in Soho, then
had most of my luxurious curly locks cut off. I went from looking
like a yeti to apparently being a spitting image of John Claude Van
Damme in his early Kickboxer days. The only difference being that I
wear glasses and have a ridiculous moustache.
I was having a bus day.
I fancied a change from the ordinary train, tube and bus combination.
It meant that journey times are considerably lengthened and forward
planning is essential. You do get the benefit of being out in the
open and have a very tall perspective of the streets of London, if
you sit on the upper deck.
My haircut took longer
than expected but with interesting results. Thinking the show started
at 7/7.30pm I had to get a move on from Soho to Dalston.
When I checked a map to
find out what bus to get and where, I was happy to discover the bus
stop was only about twenty yards from where I was standing. Better
still, a bus was due at any minute. It came, I got on, sat up top and
watched as I went from place to place and how each was so very
different to the one before. I misread the map so though I was
getting off at Dalston Kingsland so when the bus passed Dalston
Junction alarm bells began to ring. Missing my stop meant that I had
got dropped off what must have been a ten minute walk further down
the road.
As soon as I stepped
through the pub doors, it was like a miniature lightning storm went
off in my brain. Areas that had been out of use for so long that my
conscious considered them to be redundant were fired up. The offset
pool table, the toilet door, it all became clear. I HAD been here
before. Actually, I'd been here numerous times before. Back in the
days when I used to go out, get drunk and then play extremely
competitive games of pool with friends or strangers. There was this
one time in particular that a game got so heated that a good friend
of mine had to be physically restrained from hitting some stupid twat
in the face.
Enough about memories
of the past, it's a time to focus on the present and not worry about
what has been before or what lies ahead in the future.
The first beer I had
was a pale ale from the Sambrook's Brewery, a London based brewery.
It wasn't all that so I 'upgraded' to a beer called 'East Coast IPA'
from the Greene King Brewery in Bury St Edmunds. It's an American
style IPA and to its word it was, it really did taste like one. A
pint cost what I would have once considered to be astronomical but
now £4.50 seemed quite average. What was ridiculous was that a
bottle of Brooklyn Lager cost £5.20 for a 355ml bottle. How nice a
beer it is, that doesn't justify a price tag that high.
The gig was tremendous,
a band as marvellous as 'Swim Mountain' deserved a much larger fan
base. It was a shame to see that the small room was less than half
full.
Unfortunately, after
they finshed and my desperation and thirst for beer grew, added to
how busy the bar was. By the time I got my drink, the headline act
had started and the room was so over-full that we were refused
admission.
That night I saw a
bloody brilliant gig, made a new friend, got drunk and managed to
secure a life home with my mate. A fun packed day and an thoroughly
entertaining night.
Soudcloud link for Swim Mountain
the pub site
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