Very possibly the only good thing to come out of ôEuropean Unionö is English Sunday Opening. Yesterday for the first time in over fifty years, it was possible to drink throughout the Sabbath. About time too.
A fortnight ago, heading back from a little holiday in Cornwall, a friend and I had reached Bristol and decided to go for a well-deserved drink. It was on of those balmy summer days which have made the traditional silly season very laid-back indeed. All we wanted that early afternoon was a refreshing pint, so we went to a pub I know well from previous trips to Bristol, the Albion. As I got the barmanÆs attention and started to request the urgently-required two pints, we were sourly disappointed to hear ôSorry lads, weÆre closed.ö
Yesterday, things were different - strolling into the same pub at 4 pm, drinks were in ready circulation and the four traditional hours of closing were finally vanquished.
Whether or not the change in the law is really a good thing in a wider sense is far more difficult to discern. Remembering that the old closing hours were the only reason many men returned home before darkness set in, there must be many wives and children (or even husbands and parents) of hardened boozers who would like to revoke the law already.
Personally, my only complaint is that the powers-that-be didnÆt decide to change pub legislation a few weeks earlier, when a coke or an orange juice really didnÆt hit the spot and we were ready to raid an insecure-looking off-license just to get hold of a couple cans of even the worst lager.
Bristol in the sun, a relatively unusual predicament, is certainly one of the best places in the country to enjoy a slow afternoon. This weekend, I had the pleasure of staying with my brother in an area of the city called ôCliftonö, the Kensington of the West. The most notable features of the suburb are beautiful architecture and a relaxed atmosphere.
Saturday night started at ôThe Mallö, which is unsurprisingly on The Mall. Best features included a quiet jukebox and comfortable seats. Worst features were definitely the two thick bouncers who came on duty towards the end of our time there and promptly asked everyone I was with for proof of age, even though there were enough empties in front of us to prove that their colleagues hadnÆt been quite as fussy.
Decided in ôThe Mallö that prolonged afternoon drinking most definitely demands lager rather than anything heavier. My brother resisted the advice and stubbornly kept to his TetleyÆs which he regretted later on.
Dinner was accompanied with the National Lottery and my next recommendation, Carlsberg Ice. I didnÆt like the look of this stuff, as it seemed to be a rip-off of Fosters Ice. The Carlsberg version is equally nice to the Fosters, maybe more so and another good afternoon beer.
The rest of the evening was passed at the Albion, which I mentioned before. A really nice pub, if not a bit young. We were lucky enough to see one of the funniest things in Bristol that night. On the next table, a group of about eight friends, every single one with buck teeth. Maybe they are in a club! Truly bizarre.
"Arthur" is on holiday
Take a look at the Pub Guide while you're in the neighbourhood!
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