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Cool electric chandeliers at The Gilbert pub where I had lunch last week. As the exterior was quite down in the mouth, the interior decor was really amazing in contrast. Food was good too!
Historic houses at the Triangle opposite the Bulldog Pub. Taken yesterday on my morning walk using a compact camera. An HDR image.
Now, I know what you're thinking, but let me explain. This is the men's toilets in a particularly non-descript pub near Great Portland Street, the Albany if you're interested in visiting. It appears to be a semi-naked woman dressed in some kind of military uniform (presumably the dress uniform rather than combat, but that's just a guess) mimicking pissing into a man's mouth with a beer bottle. In my day graffiti was limited to just "Fuck Off" or, if they were feeling lyrical, "Bryan Robson IS an injury" but I will never moan about falling standards again. I like the way the whole effect and hours of work has been enhanced by plonking a hand dryer in the middle of it - but health and safety must be paramount.
The Shoulder of Mutton in Wendover has been a public house since at least the 17th century, with the current pub established in the 18th century and built on the site of an earlier structure and is a Grade II Listed building.
The owner was found dead in his pub near Brittas Bay, Co Wicklow by gardaí on 19 March, 1996.
A well-known Wicklow publican, Tom had been counting up his St Patrick’s Day takings at Jack White’s Inn where he lived, when he was killed by pellets from a single close range shotgun blast.
His wife Catherine had told gardaí that she was awoken by someone “pressing her face to the pillow” and shouting at her for money.
When they arrived, they found Tom Nevin on the kitchen floor in a pool of blood.
It later emerged that about £14,600 - €16,500 currently, was taken from the pub and the Nevins’ car had been taken and was found later abandoned in Dublin. All signs pointed to a botched robbery.
Four years later, Catherine Nevin was on trial at Dublin Central Criminal Court, accused of both murdering her husband and soliciting three other men to murder him.
Mrs Nevin attempted to characterise her husband who was well liked in his community as a quiet, hard working man – as being a member of the IRA, gay and a drunkard.
On the prosecution side, it was alleged that Catherine Nevin had had affairs with a garda inspector, a judge and a convicted criminal and was said to have used her ”silken boudoir - den of sleaze” to “bed a bevy of sex-hungry men” while “plotting her husband’s murder”.
She was convicted and sentenced to life in prison and dubbed "The Black Widow"!
I had a delicious lunch in the very room yesterday and the staff were brilliant!! :)
But not when driving Himmy!! (Unless it's a cappuccino not beer!!) 😅
The Sportsman Pub Lodge Moor Sheffield..
Love the art work here too!
One of the first pubs I visited as a teenager, when I lived in the area.
I actually once lived in this side street in the 1990's.
Pretty sure it was a Higson's House
Moss Lane, Orrell Park, Liverpool.
Currently sitting in pub in Bosham with a beer and my laptop editing my late mornings work. With the realisation that the undiscovered images of this very photographed village, lie right here in the pub.
The pub is a haven of warmth and comfort, its wooden beams darkened with age and history. A crackling log fire in the hearth casts flickering golden light across the room, illuminating the gleam of polished brass and the deep red upholstery of the well-worn chairs. The scent of burning wood mingles with the rich aroma of ale, filling the air with a sense of timeless contentment.
Seated by the window, I cradle a pint of amber ale, the glass cool against my fingertips. The first sip is smooth and full-bodied, a perfect complement to the comforting hum of quiet conversation around me. Outside, beyond the thick, wavy glass of the old window, the tide has drawn back to reveal glistening mudflats where wading birds pick their way through shallow pools. The sea air, heavy with salt, drifts in when the door swings open, mixing with the warmth inside.
The light flooding the sky, dusky with blacks and greys reflecting off the still water of the harbour. Boats, their masts gently swaying, rest in the shallow waters, their reflections shimmering with each ripple. Across the bay, the silhouette of Bosham church stands against the evening sky, its spire a timeless sentinel over the sleepy village.
I take another slow sip, sinking deeper into my chair, letting the moment stretch—content, warm, and utterly at peace.
Elderly ladies meet up for a Sunday lunch at a pub in Ealing, west London. November 09, 2014. Photo: Edmond Terakopian
The Black Lion in Middle Hillgate has been long closed and converted to flats. This 1887 pub sign remains but is weathering badly.
My friend Allegra played at the Bucktown Pub yesterday. Nice and cozy place, great people and amazing music. If you like indie music, I'm sure you'll love her music. Check it our at www.allegramalone.com