The Management’s next outing involved a trip to Dickens (Dalry Road, 2,3,4,25,33,44), famous for little other than allegedly being Kenny Richey’s watering hole of choice. The same evening, we visited The Tynecastle Arms (Gorgie Road, 1,3,25,33) before retiring to The Ardmillan Hotel for several nightcaps.
Shortly afterwards, we reconvened to see something really cool:
It was bone-chillingly cold on the day, and rather than re-visit the Marmion*, we headed into town to warm up. Lebowski’s (Morrison Street, 1/2/34/35), being the chosen venue. As those of you familiar with the film will have guessed, the place specialises in White Russians. I prefer a beer, and in any event I preferred it when it was cheap, nasty and known as The Festival Tavern.
A spectacularly drunken an ill-considered lock-in in Harry’s Bar (Randolph Place, 19/36/37/41/47), my place of work at the time, left The Management in need of a serious debrief the following day. The stories have been repeated many times, but for the purposes of this blog they shall remain untold so as to protect the innocent. Harry’s itself is renowned for its burgers, its rugby crowds and its grab-a-granny discos. ‘Nuff said. Debriefing started in The West Room (Queensferry Street, 19/36/37/47), a fairly swanky (and pricey to boot) place run by the folk who started Sygn, just round the corner. It tells you a lot about the night before when even your memories of 4pm are hazy, but i have a vague recollection of there being a horrendous mix-up which led to me being given 3 free bottles of Groslch. Nick, nursing his pint and the mental scars of the night before, didn’t seem to object.
Visits to The Vat and Fiddle (Lothian Road, 1/10/11/16/22/30/34/45) and Mr Modo’s (Lothian Road, 1/10/11/16/35/45) followed. Neither was spectacular. The moral of the story remains that you should never fall in love with a dancer.
Until the next time...
CUMULATIVE PUB COUNT: 170
*Apart from the mid-morning medicinal dram we popped in for.
Wednesday, 30 November 2011
The Stock Brig/Leith Central Station
Our latest recap of drinking exploits starts in Stockbridge. Avoca (Dean Street, Deanhaugh Street, 24/29/42), one of Stockbridge’s better kept secrets, and mixes the area’s customary air of café culture with a refreshing lack of pretension. On this occasion, we were accompanied by an interesting bloke who seemed to spend most of the evening arguing with himself.
We half expected to find the same character in St Bernard’s Bar (Raeburn Place, 24/29/42) across the road, but much to our disappointment (or relief, you decide) he was nowhere to be seen. The St Bernard is something of an anomaly in Stockbridge in that it’s cramped, it’s downmarket and you probably won’t find anyone who works in marketing drinking there. Admittedly I’m reviewing this two years on, but I can remember little other than an intense discussion on the merits of dog racing. Why do they only use greyhounds? Why couldn’t you have a handicap race with a St. Bernard, for example (you can see how this train of thought developed) against a Chihuahua? A Labrador against a Dachshund? To spice things up even more, you could mix up the events and throw in relays (with a bone, of course), hurdling events and even a steeplechase. Needless to say, everyone bar me grew tired of that conversation and we soon left.
For our third and final stop of the evening, we were joined by everyone’s favourite man child: Adam Johns. The misadventures of this serial monogamist have been well-documented in this blog and other online journals, but on the night in question he was being kept in check by his girlfriend of the time, the lovely Rosie. (No, she’s not the one who shat the bed, before you ask). Anyway, I digress. We were in the Guildford Arms (West Register Street, everything under the sun), which is one of the city’s must-visit boozers. Day or night, whether you like ales, lagers, heavies, whisky or wine, there will be something on the drinks menu for you. Highly recommended.
Later that week, The Management convened on Leith Walk to pay a visit to The Balfour (7/10/12/14/16/22/25/49), which is no longer with us. It won’t be missed.
The night finished up in The Central Bar (7/10/12/14/16/22/25/49), which was enjoying a quiet spot of Sunday karaoke. When I say “quiet”, I mean in terms of numbers, as the sound system was loud enough to blow the roof off the building formerly known as Leith Central Station. Cuts chosen by the punters ranged from the sublime to the God-awful, but my abiding memory of the night is one tune. We leave you with a live take.
Until the next time..
CUMULATIVE PUB COUNT: 163
We half expected to find the same character in St Bernard’s Bar (Raeburn Place, 24/29/42) across the road, but much to our disappointment (or relief, you decide) he was nowhere to be seen. The St Bernard is something of an anomaly in Stockbridge in that it’s cramped, it’s downmarket and you probably won’t find anyone who works in marketing drinking there. Admittedly I’m reviewing this two years on, but I can remember little other than an intense discussion on the merits of dog racing. Why do they only use greyhounds? Why couldn’t you have a handicap race with a St. Bernard, for example (you can see how this train of thought developed) against a Chihuahua? A Labrador against a Dachshund? To spice things up even more, you could mix up the events and throw in relays (with a bone, of course), hurdling events and even a steeplechase. Needless to say, everyone bar me grew tired of that conversation and we soon left.
For our third and final stop of the evening, we were joined by everyone’s favourite man child: Adam Johns. The misadventures of this serial monogamist have been well-documented in this blog and other online journals, but on the night in question he was being kept in check by his girlfriend of the time, the lovely Rosie. (No, she’s not the one who shat the bed, before you ask). Anyway, I digress. We were in the Guildford Arms (West Register Street, everything under the sun), which is one of the city’s must-visit boozers. Day or night, whether you like ales, lagers, heavies, whisky or wine, there will be something on the drinks menu for you. Highly recommended.
Later that week, The Management convened on Leith Walk to pay a visit to The Balfour (7/10/12/14/16/22/25/49), which is no longer with us. It won’t be missed.
The night finished up in The Central Bar (7/10/12/14/16/22/25/49), which was enjoying a quiet spot of Sunday karaoke. When I say “quiet”, I mean in terms of numbers, as the sound system was loud enough to blow the roof off the building formerly known as Leith Central Station. Cuts chosen by the punters ranged from the sublime to the God-awful, but my abiding memory of the night is one tune. We leave you with a live take.
Until the next time..
CUMULATIVE PUB COUNT: 163
Monday, 28 November 2011
IN SEARCH OF FREEBIES
The Management make no apologies for the delay in updating your favourite Edinburgh drinking blog. Frankly, we’ve had better things to be doing.
Inspired by the previous year’s well-documented haul of free Fringe tickets, The Management were joined by Al Wallace on an evening in August 2009. Our expectation? More free tickets, of course.
Meeting at the Bar, Udderbelly (Teviot Place, 2,41,42), we were given no freebies so decided to move to one of the Fringe’s other big venues: The Underbelly (George IV Bridge/Cowgate/Victoria Street, 23,27,41,42,45). Once again, there wasn’t a freebie in sight. Having missed the Fringe’s preview nights, we grudgingly accepted the only way to see anything would be to dig deep in our pockets.
Off we went to The Stand 3 and 4 (York Place, 4,8,10,11,12,15,16,26,44,45) to see Alun Cochrane. If you haven’t heard of him not (or read about him in a previous blog) then your priority for next year’s Fringe is sorted.
A quick nightcap or 3 in The Basement (Broughton Street, 8) rounded out the evening. Apparently this place does good food, but we were more interested in loudly slating the government of the day. If any of Peter Mandelson’s relatives were in attendance, we stick by our comments.
The next day was Scotland’s World Cup qualifier away to Norway. We were humped by four goals, and the result all but sealed yet another disastrous qualifying campaign. Feeling massively downtrodden, we hit the Alhambra (Leith Walk, 7,10,12,14,16,22,25,49). Although one of Leith Walk’s less salubrious establishments, this Rat Pack-idolising place does a thriving trade whether it’s 10am or 10pm. Cracking jukebox too.
The following evening saw us out for the third night on the trot, this time to see The Bluetones bring the curtain down on a year-long tour of 1996’s Expecting to Fly. Convening in Shakespeares (Lothian Road, 1,10,11,15,16,24,34) we wasted no time in heading round to the HMV Picture House (Lothian Road, 1,10,11,15,16,24,34) for the evening’s merriment. The gig was bloody fantastic, with drummer Eds Chesters asking why we hadn’t updated the blog. We’re sorry Eds, but here’s your update – two years isn’t that long to wait, surely?
Until the next time...
CUMULATIVE PUB COUNT: 158
Inspired by the previous year’s well-documented haul of free Fringe tickets, The Management were joined by Al Wallace on an evening in August 2009. Our expectation? More free tickets, of course.
Meeting at the Bar, Udderbelly (Teviot Place, 2,41,42), we were given no freebies so decided to move to one of the Fringe’s other big venues: The Underbelly (George IV Bridge/Cowgate/Victoria Street, 23,27,41,42,45). Once again, there wasn’t a freebie in sight. Having missed the Fringe’s preview nights, we grudgingly accepted the only way to see anything would be to dig deep in our pockets.
Off we went to The Stand 3 and 4 (York Place, 4,8,10,11,12,15,16,26,44,45) to see Alun Cochrane. If you haven’t heard of him not (or read about him in a previous blog) then your priority for next year’s Fringe is sorted.
A quick nightcap or 3 in The Basement (Broughton Street, 8) rounded out the evening. Apparently this place does good food, but we were more interested in loudly slating the government of the day. If any of Peter Mandelson’s relatives were in attendance, we stick by our comments.
The next day was Scotland’s World Cup qualifier away to Norway. We were humped by four goals, and the result all but sealed yet another disastrous qualifying campaign. Feeling massively downtrodden, we hit the Alhambra (Leith Walk, 7,10,12,14,16,22,25,49). Although one of Leith Walk’s less salubrious establishments, this Rat Pack-idolising place does a thriving trade whether it’s 10am or 10pm. Cracking jukebox too.
The following evening saw us out for the third night on the trot, this time to see The Bluetones bring the curtain down on a year-long tour of 1996’s Expecting to Fly. Convening in Shakespeares (Lothian Road, 1,10,11,15,16,24,34) we wasted no time in heading round to the HMV Picture House (Lothian Road, 1,10,11,15,16,24,34) for the evening’s merriment. The gig was bloody fantastic, with drummer Eds Chesters asking why we hadn’t updated the blog. We’re sorry Eds, but here’s your update – two years isn’t that long to wait, surely?
Until the next time...
CUMULATIVE PUB COUNT: 158
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