Allow me to be the first to suggest Moll King's Coffeehouse.
I really want to make it into a meet up in London, but unfortunately I am working all weekend and it is Mother's day on Sunday, so I'm fully booked. Have fun!
I think we should be planning for Saturday, somewhere central. How about that filthy pub in St Giles we did once? (Mind you, with Tottenham Court Road tube in its current split brain condition it's not as central any more)
mother*ing Sunday, surely. Not sure if I can make this. Plenty of work on. But I will try.
I might suggest the hipster pub just up the road from Kings Place, but it could be very noisy on a Saturday night.
Good call. Isn't that the one with the Funktion One sound system downstairs?
I'd prefer a south east London venue given the choice, but failing that King's Cross works pretty well. I can't do Saturday afternoon, but I can do the evening and probably Sunday.
Yes, yes, Mothering Sunday. I really dislike 'mothering' - all I hear is 'smothering.'
I read 5 as Mother-$#*ing Sunday, which is rather how I feel about the whole thing.
10: ah write a poem about it why doncha
11: That's how you were meant to read it!
And, yes, it is the pub with a fancy sound system in the basement. I sometimes have a HARD TIME HEARING there, but the beer is good and much less expensive than the craft place we met in Islington once.
Yeah, "mothering" is a no-good word.
huh it really is "mothering sunday" over there. How gross.
So, UKers, why are you messing with your only valuable international export, Jeremy Clarkson?
Still awake, working late. But I've never even seen Top Gear. Until everyone else wakes up again, here's the Guardian view, which manages to work in a quote from Robert Graves.
16: because you don't get to punch the help if you work for the BBC
16: because you don't get to punch the help if you work for the BBC
Apparently my phone believes I should emphasise this important point. Fuck it. I should go back to sleep.
Yes, yes, Mothering Sunday. I really dislike 'mothering' - all I hear is 'smothering.'
Yeah, and then you'll get the chair.
I can't make Saturday. Outside chance I might make a Sunday evening thing, or slight chance Friday (today).
16 - because he's a cunt.
We have a French exchange student arriving tonight for a week. I don't think C would be impressed if I fucked off to London and left him to interact with her.
19: This is a cultural clash. In Hollywood, if you don't punch the help it's taken as a sign of weakness. It gets you busted down to the mail room.
Me neither, though I would like to make a meetup some day.
OK, let's make it 6.30 tomorrow (Sunday) at the Star of Kings. Liz, can you bump the thread?
The special guest's name always reminds me of David the Invincible Philosopher. Some relation I hope.
General broadcast: the pub is closed. Like closed. If you're coming please speak.
Thanks for that. Is anyone actually out?
Heading to the Parcel Yard in King's Cross Station
If anybody finds a stuffed bear for god's sake do what it tells you.
40: But don't feed it after midnight!
Who was there? Did you all find each other?
This is some really intense suspense. Is everybody still lost? Are all the pubs closed? Is this some kind of Shaun of the Dead thing?
No wonder these people aren't managing an empire anymore.
That meetup would have come off in Mussolini's Italy, by gum.
Some crowd of people would have been there, and they would have joined that crowd, because who do they think they are? Better than everyone else?
I've just come back from lunch there. The zoned out barman put our meals down on the counter before bringing them to our tablet and then *started to eat the chips*while taking on the phone. While we were watching. When I complained, he said no, that was another order, not ours.
So last night had s lucky escape.
Yeah you did; Big Al says the barman's connected, so I wouldn't complain too loudly.
The non-meetup liveblogging from Werdna is cracking me up! Did he then bring the plates to you or follow up his lie by having your food remade?
Before I had complained, when he saw us watching, he picked them up and handed them to another, rather bewildered waiter, with obvious instructions to take them into the room next door. After about a minute, he reappeared carrying the plates towards us. When he was close he asked, rather belligerently, if we wanted the food: why were we looking at him like that. "Because you were eating the chips" I said. He said "Oh, no. That was another oder" and put these on the table. I was hungry, so I ate, promising myself to put the whole story up on tripadvisor. When the bill came, two pounds had been removed from it for "open food" which I think was an apology.
I'm actually going to be in London (probably near King's Cross) overnight for work next Tuesday, the 24th, if people want to try again. But no pressure!
I think I will be in Bradford, but will make it otherwise.