Evening all. I realise it has been an exceptionally long time since the last blog entry – however this delay is fully justified as The Management have been busy with dissertations, exams (both academic and professional) and drinking – each of these things automatically takes priority to sitting on the computer typing up a report of said adventures. For this reason, this particular entry will aim to have a theme of “maximum information, minimum bullshit” - so whilst you enjoy clear and concise reviews of the latest watering holes, you won't have to put up with us making crap jokes about Adam Johns (however readers should note that this decision was aided by the fact that Mr Johns hasn't been out on the Pub Challenge in the last 6 months).
Joseph Pearce's (Elm Row, 7/10/11/12/14/16/22/25/49) is apparently now Swedish-themed, which thankfully does not mean that they now charge 7 quid per pint. Instead, this vintage pub now has a slightly camp ambiénce (it is not a pink bar though – don't worry) with candles on the tables, comfy seats and a 'children's corner', where families are encouraged to gather.
The Elm Bar (Elm Row, 7/10/11/12/14/16/22/25/49) is probably the worst pub I've ever visited. Not only is the place an absolute dive, but the service was appalling – it took myself, Nick and Ian Davidson almost 15 minutes to be served. This delay was not due to the barman's alarming likeness to Mr T, however.
The Brunswick Bar (Elm Row, 7/10/11/12/14/16/22/25/49) a bit of a strange one; the place was quite nice inside and did a great pint,but it was absolutely dead (and no they didn't have advance warning that we'd be there). There's potential for someone to make something of it when all the UNITE student halls pop up round there next year.
The Hopetoun Bar and Diner (McDonald Road, 13) is a John Barras pub, so once again I don't need to offer a detailed analysis. Suffice to say Nick managed to find himself in the company of a rather bigoted Rangers man (is there any other kind?), and Greig Bingham's name was mentioned several times. Greig Bingham was not present at this time.
The Slug and Lettuce (Omni Centre, Greenside Place, 1/4/5/7/8/10/11/12/14/15/16/17/19/22/25/26/34/44/45/49) is a chain effort and is almost indistinguishable from any of the other faceless bars within the Omni Centre. Nick was adamant that Neil McDonald should have been with us that night though, because “his nickname is The Lettuce and he looks like a slug”. Fair enough.
Deacon Brodie's Tavern (Bank Street/Lawnmarket, 23/27/41/42/45): William Brodie (1741–1788), more commonly known by his prestigious title of Deacon Brodie, was a Scottish cabinet-maker, deacon of the trades guild and Edinburgh city councillor, who maintained a secret life as a burglar, partly for the thrill, and partly to fund his gambling.
By day, Brodie was a respectable businessman, member of the burgh council and deacon (or president) of the Incorporation of Wrights and Masons. Part of his job in building cabinets was to install and repair their locks and other security mechanisms and repair door locks. He also served on a jury. He socialised with the gentry of Edinburgh, meeting poet Robert Burns and the painter Sir Henry Raeburn. He was also a member of The Edinburgh Cape Club.
At night, however, Brodie became a burglar and thief. He used his daytime job as a way to gain knowledge about the security mechanisms of his clients and to copy their keys using wax impressions. As the foremost wright of the city, Brodie was asked to work in the homes of many of the richest members of Edinburgh society. He used the illicit money to maintain his second life, including five children, two mistresses who did not know of each other, and a gambling habit. He reputedly began his criminal career around 1768 when he copied keys to a bank door and stole £800. In 1786 he recruited a gang of three thieves, Brown, Smith and Ainslie.
The case that lead to Brodie's downfall began later in 1786 when he organised an armed raid on an Excise office in Chessel's Court on the Canongate. Brodie's plan failed and Ainslie was captured. Ainslie agreed to turn King's evidence, to avoid transportation, and informed on the rest of the gang. Brodie escaped to the Netherlands intending to flee to the United States but was arrested in Amsterdam and shipped back to Edinburgh for trial.
The trial started August 27, 1788. At first there was no hard evidence against Brodie before the tools of his criminal trade were found in his house; copied keys, a disguise and pistols. The jury found Brodie and his henchman George Smith, a grocer, guilty. Smith was an English locksmith, he was responsible for a number of thefts, even stealing the silver mace from the University of Edinburgh.
Brodie and Smith were hanged at the Tolbooth October 1, 1788, using a gallows Brodie had designed and funded the year before. According to one tale, Brodie wore a steel collar and silver tube to prevent the hanging from being fatal. It was said that he had bribed the hangman to ignore it and arranged for his body to be removed quickly in the hope that he could later be revived. If so, the plan failed. Brodie was buried in an unmarked grave at the Parish Church in Buccleuch. However rumours of his being seen in Paris circulated later and gave the story of his scheme to evade death further publicity.
Popular myth holds that Deacon Brodie built the first gallows in Edinburgh and was also its first victim. Of this William Roughead in Classic Crimes states that after research he was sure that although the Deacon may have had some hand in the design "...it was certainly not of his construction, nor was he the first to benefit by its ingenuity".
The dichotomy between Brodie's respectable façade, and his real nature inspired Robert Louis Stevenson to write The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. Stevenson's father had furniture made by Brodie.
Or so it says on wikipedia - the pub is a bit of a rubbish tourist trap though.
The Strathmore Bar (Iona Street, diverted 13): our visit here almost gave rise to a financial stooshie; having passed the sign calling the bar “The Trathie” (the S having fallen off a long time ago), I was sceptical of Nick's claims that the place was indeed called The Strathmore, even to the point at which I offered to raise a £300 waiger on the matter. Thankfully Mr Chris McCall talked me down from the ledge.
Tamson's (the old Footballer's Arms, Easter Road, 1/13/35) looks fairly uninviting from the outside but once we crossed the threshold it turned out to be a nice little pub. We had planned to have one pint and one pint only, but quicky developed a residency at the bar, helped by Mr Chadha repeatedly (and conveniently) missing his bus by a matter of minutes.
The Black Bull (Leith Street/Calton Road, 1/5/7/14/19/22/25/34/49) is renouned for its popularity with local punks and metal fans, and has the jukebox to match. The thought of the place provokes tinitis in me, and we were only in at the back of 7! Not one for the hard of hearing.
The Newsroom (Leith Street, 1/5/7/14/19/22/25/34/49) is a cocktail bar/juice bar/ponce fest but it served a nice halfway point for the walk between the Black Bull and our next point of call (roughly 50 yards round the corner), and surprisingly did a very good pint of Guinness. I'm not sure if it was a deliberate point given the name of the joint, or whether it was simply a reflection on the type of place The Newsroom is, but I was pleased to see that a full-ish selection of the days' broadsheets was available for persual whilst one drank their pint.
The Waterloo Buffet (Waterloo Place, X25/X26) is a strange little place tucked away beyond the end of Princes Street but before Calton Hill. Busy during the day with commuters necking a swift half before catching their buses to West Lothian or wherever it is they go, the place is dead at night – indeed our only company in the bar was a rather drunk fellow who insisted on telling us his life story. Twice. It may have been coincidence but it was at around this point that the barmaid decided to call time on proceedings. We headed straight upstairs to The Ark (Waterloo Place, X25/X26) a music venue-cum-bar where singer-songwriting and all round good guy Alex Cornish was wearing a red-check shirt and playing some tunes. If you want to read a review of the gig you should check here, we stood at the back and drank a lot of Guinness so were in no place to pass comment.
The Living Room (George Street, 13,19,36,37,41,47,X47): From time to time, The Management engage in social drinking, rather than simply dragging themselves into pubs and making jokes about Adam Johns. Our visit to The Living Room was one such occasion, as we joined PWC's finest for some kind of birthday 'do, a 21st or something*. A couple of the PWC crowd had been exercising their drinking muscles since lunchtime and thus were rather er, merry, especially one bloke who at one stage must have had about 4 pints in front of him – seemingly with each cigarette break he would forget that his collection was increasing. The place itself was quite classy, not just 'stylish' or 'trendy' as many New Town bars seem to be. Nick has asked me to point out that he found the cocktails substandard – at first I thought he was bemoaning the lack of an umbrella or cherry tomato but no, he genuinely wasn't impressed with his celery and cucumber concoction, or whatever it was. I had a mojito and an Estonian beer, both passed the test.
Until the next time....
CUMULATIVE PUB COUNT: 88
*Note: this may not be true.
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