I need to whip those kids into shape, I tell you. I seem to be doing my walks all on my own right now, which is fine because I'm not lonely, but man, those kids are getting lazy! I don't think I could take them all out at once and maintain social distancing, though, because James and Thomas in particular are made of arms and legs and they'd find it very difficult not to accidentally nudge people with an elbow or a knee from the other side of the street.
But when I'm alone, I can go into town. None of the boys like town when it's closed, which I can understand. Anyhow, I started near the canal, but there was no canal walking today – I was out to see buildings.
Like this one. My brother and sister-in-law used to live here, in this very cute little duplex. If I could choose a house to buy in town to live in totally by myself, I'd choose this one. It might not look like much, and it kind of isn't, but it's neat and tidy and in a lovely location. I imagine this being like a little hideaway where I could read in peace and pop into town whenever I felt like it, or go to the pub across the road if I was feeling sociable. Nice.
This is why Lancaster is a city. Okay, it's not, that's a myth. This is the cathedral. Haaaaang on a minute, I'm repeating myself. I've talked about the cathedral before ... yep, I have. You can read this post for links on the cathedral. It's still an impressive building, though. You know me, I can't walk past a building now without taking a photo of it, and then I have to tell you that I took a photo of it and exactly what I was thinking as I walked past it. You're so patient with me.
I walked down into town from here, anyway, and I saw this, which made me smile. (There's a matter related to the movement that I need to address, but I'll do that on another day, when I'm walking in the right place, and when I've gathered my thoughts and educated myself.)
It was around here that I decided to give today's walk a theme: that of a pub crawl. Now, of course, a pub crawl is usually a joyous thing, a celebration of some event or another. It couldn't really be that today, what with me being alone, the pubs being closed, and no beer to be had at all. But I had decided that this was what I was doing, so there was an end to it.
I have always had it stuck in my mind that Lancaster used to have 52 pubs. I don't know if this is true, or if it only once had 52 pubs, or if it once had more, or if it now has fewer. Google says 59, but it's an old list, and I also suspect some of them might not reopen after lockdown. This one is The Golden Lion, also known as t' Whittle. This is where Pete and Wilf, my dad and my grandad, sometimes meet for a pint or two on a Saturday afternoon. When it opens again, I will join them. It's a proper pub, all dark and dingy, with a low ceiling and a pool table. Great pub.
This is not a pub, but it's got a nice bar. Believe it or not, this is a theatre – the Duke's. It's quite a lovely space, actually – perfect for theatre-in-the-round and a nice bit of in-yer-face Shakespeare. Andy Serkis worked here after he graduated from Lancaster Uni. He did, it's completely true. He once lived near Skerton School and that strange-looking bus stop I showed you yesterday.
Believe it or not (!), this is a pub. At least, I think it's still a pub. It's boarded up at the moment, but that might just be for the lockdown. I spent most of New Year's Eve 1999 in this pub, dressed as a fairy in a gigantic purple dress, complete with homemade lacy wings. I did. I was 23 and I'd say there were very clear signs then that I was never going to grow up.
This is not a pub. We'd call this an alley; you might call it something different. Even though it's not a pub, it reminds me of nights out in the days when I used to wear heels, tottering up or down this hill, trying not to break my ankles by going over on the cobbles. I wonder how many heels and ankles have been broken here.
We're at the bus station now, looking at that beautiful Georgian building. It used to be called The Georgian Club, funnily enough. It's a real shame, but it's empty and has fallen into disrepair. This was, I think, the first place I ever had a pint of beer. It was at my first gig, where I saw a band called Cyanide – this was my friend Darren's band, and he was the drummer. A few months later, I was going out with the lead singer, Andy. The Georgian was where it all began, the rapid descent into the debauched period of my life, which lasted for quite some years. Same as everyone else in the '90s, so don't be giving me grief! It was a wonderful time, and I don't regret a single thing, so there!
This is not a pub, but there used to be a ski shop here and that was where I bought my only ever pair of salopettes for the LGGS ski trip. Man, I loved skiing and I've never been since. Let's pop that on the list of things to do again before I die.
This pub, as you can see, is The Sun. Very nice pub, smashing food, expensive beer, but worth it. These days, on my extremely rare nights out, I will at some point be in this pub. It has one of the best beer gardens in town, with decent heaters!
This isn't a pub, but I took a photo because it's just the cutest little non-place. It's called Nip Hill, and it doesn't go anywhere. It's a dead end.
This isn't a pub either, but if you ever visit Lancaster you should come here, to the Cottage Museum. It's a titchy little museum comprising, amazingly, five floors. It's true, there really are five floors in this teeny little house. I think it's wonderful. Victorian, in case you're wondering.
And while you're here, you might as well go and visit the castle. I know it's not important at all right now, but I hope that some time in the future a budget can be found to give some of our old buildings a sand blast because they really are getting terribly filthy from the car fumes. Just think, when the oil runs out, beautiful buildings will stay beautiful!
Oh now then, this is a great pub. It nearly closed a while ago, but it was rescued – hurrah! It was given a facelift as well, but not the kind that sucks the soul out of a place. No, the old-fashionedness of this style of pub was preserved, but it became clean and fresh and just much more pleasant to be in than when the floors were sticky and you didn't really fancy putting your coat down anywhere. There used to be three pubs called the John O' Gaunt a few years ago. One is now houses, and the third is a tiny little working-men's club. This one is one of the places to go for a spot of live music.
I wasn't quite sure where to go after that one because there are several pubs in different directions. I wandered off to see if Fibbers is still there, and it is. It used to be called Fibber McGee's, and I have no idea why. This always used to feature in a pub crawl in the late '90s and early '00s, and, err, I have no idea why. It's quite a personality-less pub and I've never really liked it. It's just a square room with a bar at one side, and the toilets are part of the dance floor. Really odd. Power to you if it's one of your favourites, but it's not my cup of tea.
The Tap House, apparently. I can tell you nothing about this pub because I've never been in it in its current manifestation. Every time I have been in it in the past, it's been nearly empty. That is all I know. I'm sure it's lovely.
A hop, skip and jump up the road and across Dalton Square you have The Borough. This has been here for quite a while. I know that it used to be called something else but I can remember what. I like this pub – I think everyone does, really. It's always busy, it's crammed full of huge tables and benches and squashy chairs and it could probably do with clearing out and starting again. But it's nice, and it has always served awesome food. Another one with a really good beer garden. I'm trying to focus in on some memories from here, but I have to conclude that this is not a starting-the-night pub but a middle-of-the-evening pub because everything is a bit blurry in my mind.
Across the square is an example of what can go wrong when a pub is no longer loved and cared for. The Dalton Rooms. This used to be a Walkabout and it was a shame that it didn't stay a Walkabout, because it was brilliant then. It was always jam-packed with friends, and if you couldn't find your friends, you could pop up onto the huge staircase that went up to the loos and you'd always be able to spot your friends from there. I have very clear memories of seeing girls hanging around on the stairs because they were well aware that they appeared to best advantage at that height and knew that they were being stared at. Aren't humans weird?
Are you bored yet? Don't worry, I'm not doing all 59 pubs. This is the Penny Bank, and it was around this time on my walk that I really started to wish some of the pubs were open because I could have done with a nice pint. Can you remember the days when a woman would never be seen drinking a pint? And the husband would get a pint for himself and a half, probably with lime in it, for his wife? I think of the Penny Bank as being that kind of pub. In the old days, when town used to be heaving on a Saturday night and people were allowed to take their glasses outside, the Penny Bank would get so full that people would spill out onto the street and you'd have to fight your way through if you wanted to get to a different pub. Fun times.
Awww, now then, here's another example of how it can go wrong. The Brown Cow used to be one of the best pubs in town. It was very dingy indeed, and very, very small, with just two tiny rooms and a really small bar. I suppose I can understand why this one changed because it was so small that hardly anyone could fit inside it, so it probably didn't make much money. But as so often happens when you try to improve a pub, it was ruined by its facelift. I think I am completely prejudiced against this pub based on the fact that I preferred it the way it was, because it's always very busy and I've actually had great times here the past few occasions I've been. I should be more open-minded, eh?
Hold the front page, people! Hogarths goddam Gin Palace. GIN PALACE! A palace of gin. I've been here once, and I thought it was wonderful. This building has been through many transformations over the years, but I think this one is the best. Expensive to drink in, yes; but my goodness, who doesn't want over a hundred different flavours of gin to choose from?! I certainly do. And if my gin comes with fruit in it and in different shaped glasses depending on the brand, so much the bloody better! I know the end-of-lockdown list is quite long now, but this place is near the top.
The Pendle Witch used to be called Brambles. It might have been something else in between, but I can't remember. The Pendle Witch because of the Pendle witch trials. Lancaster is famous for not a few bad things, it turns out. But of this pub, I have no opinion. I don't think I've ever had an opinion about this pub; it is neither good nor bad. It is just a pub. I had a date here a few years ago. Nice date, average pub. I think it was the pub that killed the relationship before it even began.
This next is almost the last pub on my crawl. There were actually several others, but I had nothing to say about them so I left them out. Some I had nothing to say about because I've never been in them and others I had nothing to say about because some stories are better left untold. I stand by my no-regrets statement, but not all of the stories are mine to tell! I am completely lying, of course; my memory is so appalling these days that I can't remember many of the stories. I just remember riotous laughter, a lot of tears, dancing until we wanted to hack our own feet off, and lots and lots of lovely friends. I wonder if today's young 'uns have as much fun as we did. They don't look like they're having as much fun, poor things.
This is the Alex, where a very large percentage of the fun took place, both downstairs in the pub and upstairs in the club. I do have lots of memories from here actually, now that I'm focusing in on it, but I really can't put any of them in a blog that my parents and my auntie Trish read. Sorry!
This is the door of the Alex. The Alex was ruined when it became Revolution, but I still remember the door. A lot of time was spent near the door, I recall, where we'd come outside for a smoke, or we'd hang around waiting for late friends to turn up, or we'd argue with the bouncers who wouldn't let our friend in because he was wearing trainers. Fun times.
I didn't feel as though I'd walked very far by the time I got to the Alex, so I added a long road and a bit of a hill just to get my miles in. There were a couple of pubs that I really don't like so I didn't even take photos of them, but I did pass the other John O' Gaunt. Tiny! I wonder which town has the highest proportion of tiny pubs. It's probably York. Google doesn't understand my question, so we may never know.
I was thirsty after that, I can tell you. But I did not get myself some booze because drinking on my own depresses me and we don't need that right now, do we?! But soon, or maybe not that soon, but eventually, the pubs will be open and we'll be able to have jolly times again.
In case you were wondering, this is not a sponsored post, and I have not been paid to advertise any of these establishments!
Until tomorrow, booze hounds,
WQ
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