Back when Tomorrow’s World was winding up there was an episode live from a science show in Glasgow. One of the exhibits was helmed by the genius that is psychologist Richard Wiseman*. His team had a VR headset (quite a thing two decades ago) with which they placed people in Mary King’s Close, supposedly one of the most haunted sites in the world. Subject after subject screamed, looked over a virtual shoulder and all other sorts of generally got spooked. Changing the colouring, lighting of the space or adding a window made no difference. But, move a wall or the roof a foot in one direction and suddenly it was gone. No spooky.
I believe this to be the closest anyone has come to scientific proof of feng shui.
I visited Taco Queen for lunch today. For most probably the last time. She’s closing down**. This is terrible news. I’ve been a happy customer of this eatery since first stumbling across the pop-up in a damp basement in Peckham probably six years ago. Unfortunately, due to some very exciting plans I have for the next few weeks, I won’t be able to squeeze in more visits before the 18th September.
While there, I took a last minute fancy to go to Brighton and catch The Handsome Family. I managed to secure a ticket. So, of course, the easiest way to get to Brighton from Peckham is via Camberwell***. And, if I’m in the area, it would seem rude not to stop off at Stormbird.
There are bars in Glasgow that are part of my soul. Those places in which experience was hewn that makes me the proud upstanding shambles I am today. There is the Free Trade Inn that in Newcastle, by whose window I always want to be sitting. In De Wildeman in Amsterdam for just being what it is. The smoky Jernbanecafeen in Copenhagen. The old Tarantula in Denver. The welcoming Watering Hole in Sendagaya. So, so, many more. And yet, if pushed, I’d state Stormbird to be my favourite bar ever
The question is: Why?
Stormbird opened not long after I moved to London. I believe it is an offshoot of the more traditional Hermit’s Cave across the road. A great cider bar with bags of character. Some diner shut down and the owning family thought let’s give this craft beer thing a go. At least that’s the story in my head. I don’t know where I got it from and it could just be bunk. At that time I was very much in flow of my journey from beer snob, to craft wanker, to old beardy real ale guy. Defintiely one I’d be checking out. Despite a good selection of wines and spirits, it is most definitely a beer bar.
There are a lot of taps. Today about half of them are on. But, it doesn’t matter. It’s beautifully “curated”. I’ve always suspected they stock the stuff no-one else can sell, so they get it cheap. Purely this exists as a fact in my head. Yes. Great, well kept, cask. Usually three/four options. Usually Broken Dream. And the best pint of that you’ll ever get. (Hyperbolic? Nah.) The extremes include a pastry stout that’s description doesn’t hurts my teeth in its description and an ice tea sour. The latter of which I’d be all over on a day like this if I’d seen it before the St Mars red ale.
There’s a lot of taps here. But, let me point out that means nothing. The Mayor of Old Town in Fort Collins, Colorado has 100 taps and to me seems a soulless hole of an experience. (Of course, the company can change that.) The Harp in Covent Garden, about 10. One of the greatest pubs on the planet. I’d always, after a gig at The Lexington, stop off at the Craft Beer Co pub up the street. Mostly in the last few years I’d look at the taps and just leave. Nothing there for me. Neverso at Stormbird. Betwixt the extremes there’s a great selection. And, worst comes to worst, just go for the Kernel. Always a good rule of thumb
But drink selection doth not a pub make. We drank for years at The Halt purely because the Old Peculiar (from wood) was always astounding. (As did all your Postcard kids. The real indie-pop ale?) I come to Stormbird for more than one ale.
I love the feeling of sitting in this pub. My favourite seat is on the way to the toilets (ok, maybe not fave, just the only solo sad for table but I like it anyway). The acoustics are good. That I can definitely say. Music at a good level. You can always chat to the person across the table from you. (We all know that “why can’t I hear you? Am I that old?” shite. There’s another post on that.) it’s not cosy. But it also is. I need to be somewhere else. I don’t want to leave. And that’s the beauty.
Which is where Dr Wiseman and the ancient art of Chinese Geometry comes into play. Is there some confluence of shape and space which just resonates? Something unplanned and intangible that just makes it feel right in here? A fluke of construction that won’t exist in exactly this form anywhere else? Is it just me? And, like those relationships, we know there are others out there but will we be lucky enough to make contact with them? I dunno. Ok, I really don’t think so.
It’s a bit barn like.
But, I still dunno. I just like this place a lot.
Not to suggest that by shoving an octopus rift on someone’s head in Glasgow that they’ll experience the pleasure, the peace, I do sitting down for a drink in this place. They’d need to visit for that****
*Well done me not calling him Robert like I usually do. Mooooo!
** This is sad. But, business come and go. I wish all involved well with what happens next.
***This is only slightly sarcastic. It’s not a totally crazy route, just not best
****And, no doubt wonder what all my fuss was about
Tony Kiernan 