Sam and I caught up tonight for a drink in one of those “small bars” we now have in Sydney.
Truth be told, we’ve always had “small bars” in Sydney, but until they were specfically legislated for, we never actually called them “small bars”.
Now of course, they’re known specifically as “one of those Melbourne-style Sydney small bars”.
This one was on Oxford Street, opposite the courts, near the bus stop, near The Gay Bookshop, half way between The Tool Shed and The Balkan.
I can be that specific, because it was the directions we gave over the friend to a friend of Sam’s.
It was a nice enough bar. The cocktails were good. The seats were comfy. The staff were good. The crowd was a bit odd, in that, there weren’t actually that many people there, except for a ground of young women, one of whom was accompanied by her mum and dad. But it was good nonetheless.
At the moment, it’s a small bar without a name, On the front of the bar they proudly declare this, and inside there’s a “suggestion book” – so far only three rather boring suggestions. We, of course, spent a good five minutes coming up with names, all of which were basically around how you would spell a rather offensive English language word. I came up with the Swedish spelling, of course.
Catching up with Sam’s friends later in the night was also quite amusing. An English bloke who has been here for a dozen years who was possibly the tallest man I’ve ever met, and his friend who has been here a month and who is still sleeping on a blow up mattress. They were nice.
In addition, Sam and I also spent the night having a meal at The Balkan – too much protein is never enough, but truly tasty. We had also gone to Fruits in Suits, though we only stayed for a couple of drinks, deciding pretty quickly that “Gay Rotary” wasn’t that interesting after all. We’re just not really all that good at being “fruits in suits”.
But we had a good night, and that’s just about all that matters.
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