I visited the gig location last night. I had thought it moved from its previous venue (where I had been a couple of times, years ago) but it hasn't. In some respects it's a perfect place for a "private" party. There are gates that prevent non-payers getting in, so in some ways, it guarantees privacy.
What I do have to report, is they have wasted no money having the outdoor area re-laid. The consequence of this, is the COBBLESTONE exterior, originally laid some 200 years ago (maybe) looks like it was laid by a seaman. The shape, gap size, and elevations of the stones mean it would be foolish to attempt stiletto's on this surface. In consequence, I for one won't be wearing them. Even with my wedges last night, I struggled to keep a secure footing.
Inside IIRC, it was wood flooring, on at least 2 levels. There's a largish bar, and basic menu for food. Sadly, I got there too late to sample it.
Still, the Turkish restaurant off Upper St got the benefit of my wallet instead, and I had a very pleasant meal there.
Bit of aside, but the 3 people on the table next to me at the restaurant were foolishly indiscreet, when one of them noticed my wedge boots. Because one of them was caught whispering to her friends (one of whom immediately looked at my feet without checking to see if I was watching) were repaid in kind by me staring at them for pretty much the next 30 minutes. The
blokey/plain looking - middle aged/lardy blonde who obviously had not seen a hairdresser this millennium and dressed in Maison de Oxfam, grabbed a second glance as she got up to leave.
These were a group of 3 middle-aged people sitting in a town, arguably the most cosmopolitan in London. Yet the dark haired whispering
very fat bird with glasses, found it necessary to act like a school girl (something she would not have experienced for some considerable time), when confronted with something unusual.
I suppose gossiping about a bloke wearing heels, made her feel slimmer?
Annoyed? I was fuming.
....