Dickens Lounge Bar

I can’t really follow up what the boys have said since they have made me irreparably depressed. Gavin’s journal entry, in the style of Bridget Jones (without the fad dieting, pink marshmallows and fluff about boys), depicts the kind of Scottish male who has been laid off (note to self — don’t mention the Tories… oops) and consequently fills his time with booze and contemplative staring while a low hum of long forgotten pop music plays in the background. Jesus Christ, it is as depressing as it sounds.
Such is the way of local boozers like this. It gives guys who need space for whatever reason the opportunity to get it. People often form friendships with the people helping them prop up the bar, and the barmaids supply some source of entertainment with chat to perk them all up. The booze is cheap (especially Bells whisky) and most guys are drinking ales and getting stuck in to today’s paper.
A place for the locals, which you will swiftly figure out when you try to get past the cloister of folks smoking right outside the door. But places like this need to exist for people who want a bit of downtime, peace and serenity. Pubs like this are pivotal to many people within that community because they supply sanity at the bottom of a pint of beer. You can’t blame people for clinging to that if they’ve had a tough one at work and have been gasping for a pint all day, or people who are out of work and want to enjoy a few affordable whiskys with friends.
And they have Sky Sports.

Oh Dickens… You can’t utter the name of the place without shaking your head.
It looks exactly how you would imagine it on the inside. The only surprising thing is the locals. No shouting, no balling, everyone was strangely quiet (on a Saturday afternoon!!). The staff looked like they were going to slip into a coma at any point, totally disinterested at the world.
Not bar of the year, but I doubt they care.