Fourteen months between updates? Tardiness, perhaps, but with almost double the number of establishments now visited (Oh great - I’m looking forward to writing them up. Ed.), you can’t accuse The Management of a lack of commitment to the cause.
A new year (albeit 2010 in this case) almost always means an excuse to take in some new pubs, and The Management’s mid-January session involved a Sunday-night visit around some on South Bridge and beyond. Proceedings commenced in Biblos (South Bridge/Chambers Street 3,5,7,8,14,29,30,31,33,35,37,47,48,49) and then moved on to Aspen (South Bridge 3,5,7,8,14,29,30,31,33,35,37,47,48,49). Neither is worthy of much comment. On a similar note, Wm McEwan’s Ale House (Nicolson Street 3,5,7,8,14,29,30,31,33,37,47,48,49) was our next port of call.
Pool is a pub game which features almost as many rules of etiquette as it does in normal play. Or so it transpired when we moved on to The Maltings (St Leonards Street/Montague Street 2). With the score standing at 1-1, and the next goal the winner (so to speak), a toothless wonder shuffled towards us. “Winner stays on,” he declared, trying to pry Nick’s cue from his hands and shooting me an expectant look. “Those are the rules!” he cried, but his protests were futile. With the benefit of hindsight, it might have been better to entertain him – particularly given that Nick went on to claim both game and match.
For what it’s worth, The Maltings was something of an institution when I first moved to Edinburgh. Not only because it frequently turned up in Ian Rankin’s Rebus novels when the author needed something just slightly less predictable than his character’s 94th trip to the Oxford Bar, but also because of its famed 50p spirits and somewhat dubious claims that it promoted responsible drinking. These days the students are long gone, and even the name has changed. More on that in due course.
The toothless one was still whinging about pool table etiquette as we headed for the exit – and most likely still is now – and we decided to return to the Greenmantle (Nicolson Street 3,5,7,8,14,29,30,313,33,37,47,48,49), which had since its last review (and since I worked there) enjoyed a makeover which consisted of far more than the usual lick of paint. Gone were noteable local crusties such as “Tumour Face Man” and “Zombie”, nefarious-Edinburgh University cleaner-cum-Dalkeith Hell’s Angel (surely a contradiction in terms if ever there was one), replaced by a fridge full of eminently drinkable ales and a menu featuring bison burgers. Who said that pubs had become bourgeois?
The following Saturday, The Wynd returned to The Ark which was to shut shortly afterwards. Promises – empty ones at that – of an album appearing that year were made (although, as a spoiler, those of you waiting for the updates from 2013 will be delighted to know that it is now out) and the stage was invented by a clinical giant in a hi-vis vest.
After the gig, band, entourage, blaggers and hangers-on headed first for the Guildford Arms and then to The Chanter (Bread Street 2,35)¸where the pool etiquette was somewhat less contentious than it had been earlier in the month.
The Wee Red Bar (Lauriston Place 23,27,35,45), Edinburgh College of Art’s student union, is renowned for its selection of alternative club nights. Aficionados of indie, reggae, classic pop or soul will rarely be disappointed. Even some of the blaggers and pissheads who stuck around after the gig seemed to enjoy themselves. The Management’s official version of events is that memories are hazy – barring a man wearing a husky jumper – but one question remains unanswered: just where did Nick disappear to?
We’ve no idea.
Until the next time...
CUMULATIVE PUB COUNT: 181
PUB GAME TALLY:
NICK: 3.5
ROD: 1.5
ADAM JOHNS: 0
