A relatively thriving local pub in the heart of Glebe, brings variety and coziness to an otherwise bleak evening
Location: Corner of Bridge Rd. and Glebe Pt Rd.
Atmosphere: With rain pounding down the window panes, a level of coziness was produced within the establishment through a warm timber aesthetic, and old fashioned beer taps. Being a rainy Tuesday evening, the pub managed to contain a nice variety of patrons; families, friends, couples, but with old regulars seemingly dominating the entirety of the place. There was a well set sports bar area, which would thrive during a State of Origin, or Rugby league final. The general feeling of the place however was lost on the lack of coasters, forcing my beer to sit and form a dirty wet oval on the otherwise beautiful teak table. 7/10
Beers on tap: Variety. Lot’s of variety. There were the old favourites; Toohey’s New, Carlton Draught, XXX Gold, Toohey’s Extra Dry, Hahn Super Dry, Coopers Pale, Boags Draught, but no VB to my delight :). Then there were some premium stuff; Heineken, James Squire
Golden Chancer Ale, Little Creatures Pale Ale, a Bulmers Pear cider, a couple other international beers I did not recognize, their house brew the AB lager, as well as a confusing “Facebook” beer, which I had to be a member to ‘know about’. I myself enjoyed a Chancer Ale, which confused the bartender until I reminded him of the James Squire name change. I wasn’t trying to be a douche, the tap actually said Chancer. The name has changed. People should get used to it. 9/10
Prices: The bartender seemed a little unsure of the pricing, being confused as to whether it was happy hour or not. I payed $9.80 for a couple of Chancer’s, though he had originally said it was $9. Either way I gave him a 10er. I do recall the AB lager (the house brew) costing $2.80 a couple years ago when I had been before. Without enough research though, I’d have to say the current prices are a little cheaper than the average local depending on what beer you get. 8/10
Food: I didn’t have food, but I did give the menu a little browse. Nothing jumped out at me, NO $10 steak specials or anything. Overall the menu looked expensive and uninteresting, though perhaps the food was good. Either way, I’m no Food Critic. (no rating)
Weekly What’s On: This was absent from as far as I could tell, whereas most pubs love to throw it in your face and give you a reason to come back every day for a different deal. All I could see was the there was a Ping Pong tournament every Sunday and that there was a chocolate fondue menu on offer every Friday and Saturday during July. Once again, nothing to entice me to come in mid-week during winter, but perhaps their regulars as well as functions make them enough money without needing the cheap deals to get you in. That and probably the pokies. 5/10
Pokies: Casino Style pokies room, large, open, 20-25 machines; Queen and King of the Nile, Where’s the Gold, good ole popular 5 Dragons, a few others I’d never seen before, and the hungriest machines of them all – Big Red. There were 4 or 5 relatively tame punters sitting back with the minumum all lines bet until the big man walked in holding a stack of $5o’s. The system they used was the cancel credit with the attendant coming out to pay you out. In terms of customer service it is good as you don’t have to leave your machine, however I feel it’s a little to manual for modern day pokies technology to be used anymore. 7/10
Service: Overall the service was good. A bartender greeted me without delay, well groomed and dressed with a nice smile. He made good conversation as he was pouring my beer and went on to tell me about some offers they had. It was good information but at the same time, he wasn’t too pushy which made it good. The beer went down well, however I was a little disappointed he did not offer me a chance at the “James Squire Chancer wheel” to spin and win a prize. 7.5/10
I was walking to work yesterday and I happened to notice a small magpie blocking my way. Perhaps the average person would have walked past and not noticed a thing. But not me, no.
I had a history with magpies.
Alarm bells were ringing as my mind started echoing childhood memories. I had always feared the magpie. I wore a helmet as a child riding through the park and always felt the imminent attack coming.Now, even in my 20’s, I realised that fear is still alive.
The bird stood gracefully in black darkness, with a hidden white stripe reflecting its cunning agility. I had heard stories as a child that the magpie would swoop down on me and begin to peck away. Peck. PECK. PECK! It’s overarching, mouthing beaming blade of glory hammering into my scull. I began to also recall notes from my father telling me to never urinate by a tree, as the magpie was always watching, ready to “bite my willy off” as if it were a worm.
But I walked on, stride by stride towads the beast. I finally reached it and it didn’t look at me. As I passed I didn’t look back. But I still had the feeling in the pit of my stomach, that it was watching me. Ready to strike at any time…
I walk into the Great Hall with grace and flare as I am consumed by historical architecture and religious hymens. As I look around I am stared at by painting after painting of cocky narcissistic academics in their old style robes and wigs. They sit in large throne like chairs with greying hair and a king like aura of knowledge and power.
As I find my way to my seat, a decaying hunger for knowledge drains down me, as I feel powerless against the ever knowledgeable philosophists of all things bullshit. As I take my seat and await the ceremony of which I one day will, God forbid, have to partake in, a man in a suit stands up to the podium and recites a very stagnate, poignantly rehearsed routine about the protocalls for the proceddings. With a drizzly, blunt tone, similar to that of Dave Hughes,the man manages to comically engage the audience to what in hindsight becomes the most entertaining part of the ceremony.
“Make sure you’re in the seat you have been allocated, otherwise you’ll end up getting someone else’s degree…shake the hand of the Chancellor and take your mortarboard (tosser graduate hat) off before walking away. For the ladies you may do this also, or for a real retro look you can curtsy. If you haven’t listened to a word I said, just remember the golden rule is do what the person in front of you does.”
The hope this man gives for the rest of the ceremony soon dies out, as the music restarts and the academic overlords head their way up the isle to their seats up the front. Black gowns with red drapes, they all just screamed to the room academic bullshit. I soon worked out that the more fancy and posh the mortarboard and robes, the more bullshit the person. There was also a definitive feeling that the older the person, the more wisdom and bullshit they evoked, even if half of them seemed to doze off during the cermemony.
Then the graduates began receiving their degree, which was nothing like a roll or parchment, but a modern day red folder with an A4 piece of paper, most likely reflex, with a little stamp which indicates its authenticity. The speeches, robes, architecture, and general traditions all seemed to remain, yet the paper just had to be all modern and ruin it.
Then the photographer…
It must have been a dare. No one is that socially unconscious. No one is up themselves like that. No one is that stupid. But apparently this young girl was. She was not a professional phrotographer. She did have a semi-serious camera though, with a flash of agony to boot. She must have been egged on by her photographic graduate star, as she dauntingly continued to take up to 500 photos in the same exact position sitting in the isle. It wasn’t even a good shot. And as the flashes banged and punched the several graduates and family around the man, I could see eyes blink and fists clench, wondering in God’s name why this woman did not feel she had enough photos already.
It got to a stage where her photo taking became comedic for me. I was wondering whether she must have been on something. Something to make her do such strange and out of place things. It was as if Prince William had just grown horns and the world had to see these horns in a million different angles. Either way, I started to enjoy it as an alternative to the boring proceedings and got pleasure out of watching both her stupidity and the frustrations of the people surrounding.
In the end Dad had a word to her. A very stearn word which only my father would have the balls to do. He still goes on about it and I still continue to laugh. I guess dad just doesn’t get the joke, but it is surely a new routine he will have for parties as he awaits for the all important segway to bring up the story.
In the end though, my brother graduated, which was why we were all there in the first place, so I guess you have to say it was a success. The photographic whore went on to take countless more photos with his newly aquirred degree, and the tosser academics made their way out of the Hall as we all stood there and saluted their bullshit. And as I stood with a fake smile on my face, I couldn’t help but think:
One day I’ll be one of those tossers.
- We don’t give birthday drinks if you ask. If it’s your birthday, you’re no different to any other customer
- We don’t give free drinks if you’re hot or flirt with us
- We don’t like making cocktails when it’s busy
- The customer is always right during the day, but the bartender is always right during the night
- If we say you’re drunk, you’re drunk. Don’t try and make a deal with us, we will not serve you
- Don’t tell us how to make a drink. We make a drink the way we want to
- Don’t dribble about how you work in a bar as well and you know how to do things better. We don’t care what you do for a living. When your in our bar, you deal with what we give you
- We pour to wine to the line. Don’t bother trying to convince us otherwise.
- We don’t like splitting drink orders. But if we must, do it all at once and we’ll split it later. Don’t let us make a drink, give it to you, charge you. Then go back and make another drink, give it to you, charge you and so on.
- If you spill your drink. You pay for a new one. You don’t like it, you’re drunk
Having an Austrian girlfriend and working with a German, really helps improve my vocabulary and grammar, even though I am not currently studying Deutsch.
Today I learnt “hat mich gefreut Sie kennen gelernt zu haben” which is a formal way of saying “nice to meet you”. I tried my own phrase once before when I met my girlfriend Simone’s Opa. I remember saying “es war nett mit dich zu treffen”. Now I know it really made no sense, there’s no wonder he looked at me funny.
I finally did my monthly update of music. As I work in a club, I am constantly surrounded by all the latest tunes, hot off the satellite, mixing and mashing their way into our Saturday nights. So after a while, these certain songs which I never would have liked in the past become so embedded within my psyche that I feel the need to then add these songs to my own personal music library.
But these days it’s just so hard to escape the world of FREE music as it is literally everywhere. I sometimes consider spending the few dollars for some songs I want on iTunes, but it’s just too easy to go to another site and download it. I use to use Kazaa back in the day, then moved onto limewire. Now with them out of the picture I was thinking maybe the laws were finally getting tight enough and I’d finally have to start paying for music again.
But then I found another site, and there are countless more out there. Even music on Youtube these days is very easily downloadable, so its gotten to the stage where it is just impossible to make me have the NEED to buy music anymore.
Even the trailer/free play options you get on iTunes for the latest hits have been extended from 10 seconds, to about a minute of free listening, as the world of pay music has really hit a crossroads. Is it going to get to a stage where company’s will just give up on trying to sell music, and instead hand the job over to advertisers to give bands money. Perhaps bands and DJ’s will have to have product placement in their songs to even stay in the industry. Think about it, “Dance the night away…tonight we drinkin’ coke on the floor!” or “I need a Big mac, Big mac, Big mac is what I need Hey Hey!”
Who know’s what’s going to happen in the future, but even though the ‘illegal’ download industry is bigger than ever, artists are still finding ways to make millions of dollars. I don’t know when I’ll finally give in to paying for music, though it probably won’t be by choice if it ever happens. But for now, I’ll stick to listening to the trailer on iTunes, and getting the songs for FREE elsewhere.
“We got him” – Barack?..Barock?..Berark?……..Brock OBAMA!
Ok woo everyone is now celebrating. The man hunt is over. Chuck Norris has come home from a holiday, the US has outdone the Royal Wedding, the man has been captured, killed and thrown out to sea. Facebook has been crammed with ‘likes’ ‘fan pages’ and ‘statuses’ to make sure that every man and their dog now know’s that PUBLIC ENEMY NUMBER ONE is finally dead!
Is he really dead?
Has he been dead for a while?
Well, for any skeptics out there who still think he’s alive are either crazy Islamic reformists, or just people who live their life chasing conspiracy theories. He’s dead guys, get over it.
But for HOW LONG?
If you had read Osama’s dedicated Wikipedia page, you would have noticed the details of many different instances in which he may well have died over the past 10 years. Who believes Wikipedia anyway? Well these days it’s probably more reliable than most other shit you find on the net with all its ‘citation needed’ bullshit that just goes over the top. But hey, at least the info’s accurate. At least most pages.
Anyway, there was a good chance Osama’s been dead for a while. But… I’m not the biggest conspiracy theorist, so if the US say they killed Osama a few days ago I may believe them. But I’m just still very skeptical on the way it took place. They knew 8 months earlier where he lived. They didn’t tell anyone about it. They storm his house, he’s unarmed, they kill him and dispose of his body. No photos, no nothing.
Ok maybe the orders were to kill him so no extremists could go crazy during his trials. Maybe he was thrown out to sea in regards with “Islamic beliefs”. Maybe it is all true.
But remember. Always be skeptical. Don’t trust everything you read. All governments are corrupt in some way. But secrets can’t be kept forever. In 99 years time, we’ll know the truth. I won’t be alive, but at least I’ll be around for the truth about JFK.
November 22nd 2062…
Ok so, I arrived in Konstanz just a few days ago.
So far so good.
I was welcomed by familiar faces, brought to my university, and amazingly the secondary bag I had left at the start of my trip, still remained behind a door in a random office in the uni. I literaly walked into the office, asked the guy about the bag whom seemed to have no idea. I then proceeded to look on the otherside of the door, and there it was sitting there, two months later, exactly as I had left it. So far so good.
Next I arrived at my flat. A little away from the uni, but I soon found out that Europhaus, was the ‘party’ house of the town, and I had my own room. So far so good.
That night, I met a bunch of exchange students, all of whom were extremely nice, we chatted, we drank into the night, things were getting good!
The following night I enjoyed two dinners by two different homes who welcomed me in and I made even more friends. So far so good… Then came Friday, the course began.
My relaxation had finally ended as I arrived at my first day of my language course to be confronted with a test in which I knew not one answer. Not only that, I had been already placed in a higher class in which I was required to perform a speaking task with a German teacher to see my competency in German. “Ich spreche German nicht” I whole hartedly replied. Suddenly it turned on me that I was in Germany, and learning the language was not going to be an easy thing.
In the end though, things don’t seem to bad, I was told that quite a few people have no understanding of German and that we are all going to be in the begginer class, A0. But I mean that’s why I’m here to learn, and I aint alone, so it should be fine.
Still a long while to go, but for now things are not as breezy as they have been for the past 2 months travelling. It’s time to hit the books, turn on my brain, and learn this shit! But first, pub crawl tonight :p