Peebo.net

Notes from Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese

October 3, 2006 - 4:20pm

I’m sitting in a seventeenth century pub waiting for a pint of Samuel Smith Bitters to settle. This pub was “Est. 1667″ and frequented by “Dr. Johnson and Dickens among others”—so says the sign outside.

Ahhh. . . settled. . .

* * *

I just moved out of the narrow hallway room where an American tourist in his late sixties was talking to a young female friend. (She lives in London. I’d think it was his daughter but she addresses him, in an American accent, by his first name.) From the sound of it he does very well with his “lady friends” (their term). I’m now in the front room—probably the oldest part of the bar. It is dark with wood-paneled walls. Small. No more than fifteen by fifteen feet. Along the wall that faces the alley from which you enter there are two smallish windows paned with think leaded glass and covered with iron bars. The glass is framed in black painted wood and everything is dusty; not much light comes through and outside you can see only the brick wall opposite. A bench runs along that wall and makes an L-shape in the corner (I’m in the L); the L that juts away from the wall ends next to a huge unlit fireplace. Two tables sit in front of the bench. The only other piece of furniture in the room is a single stool at the bar occupied by an older English gent—at least seventy, well-worn dark suit, nice watch, white socks, dapper. There is also a young barman, an old woman—standing, wearing a long coat, holding a purse, staring at the bar with a half finished pint grasped in her right hand—and now a young English woman inquiring about letting a room.

“All these rooms are out for hire, then?” she says.

(Sorry, the old woman is reading a paper, not staring at the bar.)

“Go on the website^[1]. It has all the prices there,” says the barman.

Something about a seventeenth century bar with a web site strikes me as funny.

* *

Older bloke is talking now with an outrageous accent! I can barely understand him. The barman says in response to his inquiry, which I couldn’t quite make out, “I don’t know about that. I don’t get involved.”

The old bloke is now cussing good-naturedly—harassing the barman.

The barman just said, “Know what I mean, dude?” to another young barman that is working in another room. The old bloke is now cussing and making fun of the word “dude.”

* * *

Another pint (£1.72).

Now the woman really is just staring at the counter. The barman asks if she is alright. He offers her water. No response.

* * *

The woman seems to have recovered. She ordered another pint. I’m now thinking it could be a man in a dress.

* * *

Old bloke just left. The Barman offered to get him a cab but he refused and waved goodbye.

I can hear some girls in the next room now. They are talking loudly and laughing. The barman seems interested. There is an old wooden clock on the wall that is stopped at 11:51.

* * *

I just spoke briefly to the barman. He calls this time of day the graveyard shift. He says things pick up considerably after 5:30 when people get off work. He says it’s packed around the holidays. He says the best time of year is in the fall and winter when they make a fire in the big fireplace. He describes it as cozy.

* * *

The old woman just sat down at a table opposite mine.

It IS a man in a dress!!

* * *

Footnotes

[1]When I checked, the web site appears to be down. But here is a Wikipedia entry on the bar and another site with some photos.

posted by peebo on Thursday, October 12th, 2006 at 11:24 am
View realted posts in category: travel
You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.
You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.