Night with the Finns at Uncle Sams
Jan. 21st, 2007 01:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dotintheskyKevin's Finnish friends Osmo, Anu and Empu took us last night to a bar in Dalston called Uncle Sams. The bar is small, with a makeshift stage underneath an old television and a pool table. A few fake plants grow in the corners and the walls are covered with framed photos of the owner's family and friends. Osmo and Anu had warned us the place would probably be empty but, after a mellow dinner at their place, that didn't seem like a bad prospect; I was looking forward to drinking a few pints over a quiet conversation and then heading home.
When we arrived at Uncle Sams, most of the tables were taken over by young dishelved bohemian-types. Men in black, wearing severe glasses, sat by the bar. Two old men were on the makeshift stage, one of them holding a saxophone, the other sitting behind a keyboard. The football game was turned off and the two old men began to play jazz songs.
Some of thedishelved dishevelled bohemian-types were trying a bit too hard to look like Pete Doherty and Russell Brand. A few hours later, more of them began to arrive: girls in tight jeans and hair piled up to look like a rat's nest; androgynous boys in capes, with long hair and pointy shoes. They all seemed to know each other as they air-kissed and circled the pool table. When they leaned in for a whisper, their jeans slid down their bony hits, exposing tatty underwear. Some self-consciously danced to the jazz; others were as still as statues, with cigarette smoke drifting out of their nostrils.
A young guy joined the men on stage and sang in a husky voice. He wore a tight-fitting vintage Oliver! musical t-shirt. A girl asked me to watch out because her pool cue was hanging over my head. It was Mikita Oliver, from T4, dressed in a black leather jacket.
By 2.30am, I couldn't take the crowd anymore pushing against my chair or the smoke blown into my face. We said our goodbyes and took the 277 bus home, arriving at our windblown tower block just after 3am.
When we arrived at Uncle Sams, most of the tables were taken over by young dishelved bohemian-types. Men in black, wearing severe glasses, sat by the bar. Two old men were on the makeshift stage, one of them holding a saxophone, the other sitting behind a keyboard. The football game was turned off and the two old men began to play jazz songs.
Some of the
A young guy joined the men on stage and sang in a husky voice. He wore a tight-fitting vintage Oliver! musical t-shirt. A girl asked me to watch out because her pool cue was hanging over my head. It was Mikita Oliver, from T4, dressed in a black leather jacket.
By 2.30am, I couldn't take the crowd anymore pushing against my chair or the smoke blown into my face. We said our goodbyes and took the 277 bus home, arriving at our windblown tower block just after 3am.
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on 2007-01-21 03:29 pm (UTC)Ah, you mean quimitators
How I hate the young.
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on 2007-01-21 09:41 pm (UTC)And please feel free to correct me; I actually appreciate it! (I try going through my posts to pick out incorrections, even days later, so all the help is welcome.) Also, that's something your missus does to my posts; the symmetry is appealing. ;-)
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on 2007-01-21 03:43 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2007-01-21 09:43 pm (UTC)no subject
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on 2007-01-21 09:46 pm (UTC)no subject
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on 2007-01-21 09:45 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2007-01-24 06:18 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2007-01-25 11:21 am (UTC)no subject
on 2007-01-25 01:30 pm (UTC)Still am really.