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.
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