The First Quiet Drink of the Evening

ben

It is a golden, reverent time to be drinking. It puts me in mind of The Armadillo, a long-gone bar in San Francisco, where dogs would wrestle in the summer sunlight shining through the great big windows, and of the Stag's Head in CSS disbursement season.

Alf Tupper

Ah yes, that magical first hour or two after work, when out the window people are rushing home. You are a fugitive from it all, you've done your bit and you get to own that square yard of pub.

To go home and return all washed and changed, never achieves that same heightened, palpable pleasure. It was even better when you could mess around with the smoke of a cigar.

My favourite was the Unicorn down Ivegate when Bradford had a centre. Came home on leave one time, passing by I looked in the window to see a JCB scraping away the last of the tap room. Couldn't believe it. Just the facade still standing, soon to be got up and got at like so many others. Like drinking in Ikea.

John McTernan

I love this from Hemingway:

"We are of two different kinds," the older waiter said. He was now dressed to go home. "It is not only a question of youth and confidence although those things are very beautiful. Each night I am reluctant to close up because there may be some one who needs the cafe."

"Hombre, there are bodegas open all night long."

"You do not understand. This is a clean and pleasant cafe. It is well lighted. The light is very good and also, now, there are shadows of the leaves."

"Good night," said the younger waiter.

"Good night," the other said. Turning off the electric light he continued the conversation with himself, It was the light of course but it is necessary that the place be clean and pleasant. You do not want music. Certainly you do not want music. Nor can you stand before a bar with dignity although that is all that isprovided for these hours. What did he fear? It was not a fear ordread, It was a nothing that he knew too well. It was all anothing and a man was a nothing too. It was only that and light was all it needed and a certain cleanness and order. Some lived init and never felt it but he knew it all was nada y pues nada y naday pues nada. Our nada who art in nada, nada be thy name thy kingdom nada thy will be nada in nada as it is in nada. Give us this nada our daily nada and nada us our nada as we nada our nadas and nada us not into nada but deliver us from nada; pues nada. Hail nothing full of nothing, nothing is with thee. He smiled and stood before a bar with a shining steam pressure coffee machine.

"What's yours?" asked the barman.

"Nada."

"Otro loco mas," said the barman and turned away.

"A little cup," said the waiter.

The barman poured it for him.

"The light is very bright and pleasant but the bar is unpolished," the waiter said.

The barman looked at him but did not answer. It was too late at night for conversation.

"You want another copita?" the barman asked.

"No, thank you," said the waiter and went out. He disliked bars and bodegas. A clean, well-lighted cafe was a very different thing. Now, without thinking further, he would go home to his room. Hewould lie in the bed and finally, with daylight, he would go to sleep. After all, he said to himself, it's probably only insomnia. Many must have it.

Manley

It is wise to be particular about gin. I have recently been favouring a cold distilled gin and am a firm believer in the Ginness