Going drinking in Shoreditch is rarely a straightforward process. Our original chosen pub being closed for a family funeral, we found ourselves in The Barley Mow, a small and noisy boozer which initially seemed to offer a common-sensical safe option. Bit too crammed at the bar, but then it was a Friday night. Pink Floyd playing on the jukebox – well, no accounting for taste, there’ll be something else on in a minute.
Except there wasn’t.
As “The Great Gig In The Sky” yowled to a close, it was replaced with…”Money”. As a reformed Floyd fan I knew what was up: the jukebox was clearly not working and the pub had put on Dark Side Of The Moon. Not my choice of Friday night drinking soundtrack but their gaff, their rules. And there above the bar, a Pink Floyd poster showing Gilmour in full seventies outpouring mode. This lot liked their Floyd.
Quite how much, I realised when I went to the bar for a round. This wasn’t Dark Side of the moon – it was a live, longer version of Dark Side. Even so, it would be over soon – right? But as the profound erm threnodies of “Eclipse” faded away they were replaced by…”Wish You Were Here”. AARGH! We were in for the full Floydian Monty. And then some. Because just as we were getting hopeful that Roger and the boys had screamed their last scream….”Dark Side Of The Moon” came on. AGAIN.
None of this would have been quite so bad if the pub hadn’t run out of bitter too.