thirteen days in sosho
I leave my job on the 26th Jan, and this marks the end of my weekday presence in what many would have you believe to be London’s finest bar zone. Hmmm. “Where are you going tonight?” “Well I thought I would hit the bars in Sosho.” “Oh no! You’re a complete arse!”
While I grant you, there are a fair few sleek establishments aimed at your average Clerkywell dilletante, there are also some frankly shocking places. The wannabe invented name ‘Sosho’ (South Shoreditch, oooh oooh, it’s near Hoxton, it’s so cool) essentially defines the whole experience. The main thing to know about the area approximately between Old Street, City Road and Great Eastern Street is that you could do a very traditional pub crawl which needn’t involve any of the hyped spots. But that would be really obtuse.
What you will get over the next fortnight is sporadic ramble about the places I’ve been to over the last two years and some general sniping about EC2. Come publoggers, write down your own views and maybe join me for a few jars in my last weeks as a non-tourist in this area.
A lager and’.?
Lager and lime is nice. There, I said it. It tastes nice when you’re in a lazy mood. It makes the most acrid of ‘cooking lagers’ slip down like a dream. And furthermore, being a girl, I am allowed to have it. But, being a girl in a round, I am seldom allowed to exercise my will. Sometimes male compadres can be persuaded to order this elixir, but always with embarrassed reluctance.
The muttering of ‘lager and lime’ nearly always ends in disaster. At no point will the bar man/maid leap over the bar and deck the purchaser for ordering a poofy drink. However, without clear pronunciation, they can mess things up. The simplest outcome is a lager, no lime. This is more than likely the fault of the round-buyer. But more offensive end-products are to be had out there. I have had a lager and orange cordial (this can be blamed on unsleight of hand with the cordial bottles), but a confident order might have prevented this drink-crime. Quite possibly the worst drink known to man is the lager and wine. This Carling/leibfraumilch blended aberration was poured in the Hercules on Holloway Road, by an imbecile. I’ve not yet had a lager and slime, or a lager and brine. I’m obviously not going to the right places.
Slurred speech, deaf, stupid or careless bar-staff. None of these are a fair combination when on the hunt for a tainted lager of some kind.
By the way, the only lager and lime that is not nice, is the Sol ‘n’ slice. Anyone who drinks this is a satanist. Probably.
getting in on the spice girls act: i am just so glad that the girls only sold 71,000 copies of their godawful album in the uk. it strikes me that they’re doing even worse in the us, but it’s always hard to tell until you get the billboard charts, because sometimes you’ll be surprised. i’m not betting on it, though. every review has been negative, and it’s been so long - why buy yesterday’s pop when you can wait for backstreet boys?
i actually listened to it because it was in a new music listening booth, and it just wasn’t doable. very dull, very derivative-in-a-bad-sense. it sounded like four janet jacksons without any of the limited production charms her songs have. and that, my friends, is why absolute rubbish like westlife can beat them. can someone call geri and ask her to come back?
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