viaattovannucci
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Congratulations, Pops!
What's Making You Happy Today?
- Thread starter Fwiffo
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congratulations! i bet that's not what you thought you were going to see when you woke up this morning!
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Thanks
Thanks. Was very interesting to say the least. Tied off the cord with a shoelace. Olololo
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I got my fountain pen to work again! Dodgy ink cartridge and everything.
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I'm starting to get a hang of making chelow (after the 5th time) with a little tahdeeg as a bonus in a nonstick pot. I just need a good mortar to really break up the saffron to infuse the rice.
Lord Buckley
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Was playing Robbie Williams "Party Like A Russian" with my kids earlier, they really got the humour and it was really quite delightful. I should add: my kids are 50% genetically from the Russkie diaspora and culturally, perhaps the same. And they have that sense of self-deprecating humour which is very English. I've brought them up right....so far!
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Russians can be pretty bloody funny people in my experience. Had lunch with my Russkie friend today - well 3rd gen Oz but y'know
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He's still Russian after third generation? Hasn't he assimilated by now?
This actor yesterday, Fernando Mira, is first generation from Melbourne; apparently an accomplished flamenco dancer. He was head and shoulders better than the other cast members.
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Breakfast in bed on a sunny Saturday morning, strong coffee and my hangover's nowhere near as bad as expected.
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I fixed my fountain pen again! Part 2....or at least, I think this is it. Had a terrible time with the cap stuck on to the nib part.
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She.
She was saying they assimilated so fast and so complete that no one can speak Russian now. Still good drinkers though.
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I looked for this one bar at least twice in the hotel. It's one level up on the mezzanine with the conference rooms back when conferences meant popping out for a tipple. Sometimes I gave up and had a drink at another bar, but the first time I came to this bar more than a decade ago there was no space to sit at the bar proper. I had to sit in the most undesirable table for two underneath the lone television, a 13" CRT, and next to the supply of potato chips and other nibbles. I was drinking vodka cranberry at the time. The bar seated 20 odd people. Otherwise a few more can stand.
I was posted to London after that but I had some return rights so every week I was back I would come back to the bar. This was before smartphones so most of my time was observing the crowd at the bar. Slowly everyone at the bar retired. The seat I am in now was occupied by a man who died of cancer. I arrived a few years after smoking was not allowed. I can only imagine in a completely interior facing bar with one door modeled after the square footage of a bar car you would be fumigated with tobacco. There is a model train that runs along the top of the bar. When it used to run, she would blow a train whistle and put on a conductor's cap. Countless people take photographs or videos of this. It was also a good way to announce last call - pun intended. Perhaps fitting as a metaphor the train slowly broke down. It couldn't get around the entire track and sometimes never started. It, like the bar and the bartender, headed for retirement at the same time.
When I returned after my London assignment, I made it a point to come regularly especially after I moved to a flat one block away from here. This bar opens 12p to 7p; again to cater to a crowd that doesn't exist anymore. When I decided to change jobs in the middle of the Great Recession, I debated leaving my job of 8 1/2 years with her. When my grandfather was in decline, I shared my struggles. When my mother finally retired, I shared the news. When I brought in my harem of women, she would evaluate them for me. When I had issues with bosses, she would take pity on me. When I got a bonus, I'd order expensively, as expensive as a small bar was capable - there is no champagne - and always always tipped lavishly.
In return, we'd share our interests in television shows; Downton Abbey, Mad Men, Boardwalk Empire, anything British and pro monarchy. She missed one season and I bought her the DVD set. She has Netflix now. When a new rail line opened, I got her a transit card so she could travel one rail stop instead of two subway lines. I have her birthday in my mobile so I drop off a card with cash, or flowers, or whiskeys I had a chance to taste, or cosmetics when the toll of the job was getting to her.
I came by even in the warm summer months when one ought to be at a patio. She used to have hot happy hour canapés Wednesdays to Fridays and I went from getting two to a plateful that made me embarrassed compared to the one the customer next to me got. That got axed due to cost savings. I probably ate 10kg of crisps during these past years. If I was getting a little out of hand, she'd make sure I was fed. If I told her my fridge was empty, she'd give me trays of takeaway from lunch service leftovers for free.
I moved from vodka to Stoli diet, then to rums and then because of Mad Men, I tried every old cocktail recipe she had from Singapore Sling to Old Fashioned. She didn't use a smartphone app to find them. They were bits and pieces of yellowed paper from a scrapbook in the back cupboard. She made my first Manhattan. And because she knew I was infatuated with the 1960s, she would give me 1960s sized martini glasses where the alcohol would fill up to the rim with a bubble. I later got to keep a set at home as a memento. I learnt about gins under her. Through 6 or 7 weeks I'd try different gin martinis to develop a palette.
When I was posted in Atlanta, I started coming for lunch. I'd have a three martini lunch and then head to the airport for the plane. Even for me, three martinis in 90 minutes can make one a bit wobbly.
Throughout the years I saw a lot of people here. The Indian chap who regaled about how the place reminded him of clubs in Bombay (not Mumbai) who clearly used the place to entertain accounts. A banker who checked his mobile like me as a way to decompress after work and occasionally inviting a host of industry friends. An old lady who would enforce the closing time and start cleaning up the bar, for the bartender always worked alone, when the patrons were still there. The people who were here ages ago and brought their adult working kids to drink here. The old 90 something lawyer who had the same soup, sandwich and crisps on a designated week day. A spunky lady who was always telling me about young people squeezing her into retirement or gambling. An Englishman footy fanatic who comes here to have two glasses of wine and goes back to work from lunch always in business attire. A lady who always has another professional lady date and splits a bottle of wine. A lawyer or accountant couple where the man is shorter than the woman but both quite affable. It's a hotel so some people make it a point to stay just to be at the bar; business men, retirees, tourists from Australia to Britain. One magical day about two months ago, I knew everyone in the bar...everyone. This would be the closest I would ever get to Cheers - except I never saw Cheers other than the intro.
There is no debit here. There is no chip and pin. You have to calculate and sign your credit card or charge it to your room. I've picked up cheques for some regulars. I've helped her pick up and eventually be paid back from gratuities cheques where people didn't sign or didn't pay properly. I always say whatever gets her to punch out faster I'd do it. I try to drink the full bottles and not empty any so inventory measurements are easier. When Macallan jacked up their prices she would let me know.
Every year there is a Christmas party she hosts. It's all the free hotel buffet food you can eat and a cash bar. It took me a few years before I was a regular enough to be invited. I ended up sitting outside the bar in the first year - the "patio" facing the escalator inside the hotel. By my final years, I was at the bar because I graduated to being a regular; or the regulars died off or retired.
I always tried earlier to invite coworkers and industry friends to try the place. Somehow she remembers their drinks and my drinks. When sales were down and she thought her place would be closed, I'd offer to buy out the place and put on a big bash. Luckily it never came to that. But in the end I stopped inviting all but my most intimate acquaintances. I didn't want the place to be polluted by a boisterous drunk. This was a place I'd knock off to ruminate about work for two hours, or if I'd come here to drink away my frustrations and then hit the post 7pm meetings after.
Those that come here regularly know to get our last drinks in before 7pm. She closes the door and takes down the sign around 645pm. When we leave, regulars close up the door so people don't come in. The bottles are protected by a glass door. It only closes up for me when I leave regardless of time because I'm always offered a whiskey for the road. At times the bartender needs to leave to fetch supplies or a washroom break and she entrusts us regulars to, as I always say, defend the bar. We welcome any patrons coming in to grab a seat or table and wait whilst keeping a watchful eye at the liquor cabinet.
For a time I was at Dale Carnegie and the classroom was down the hall in the hotel from this bar. It felt wrong looking in and not being able to grab a tipple. You can never buy her a drink because all these years she is professional when she is on the clock. I always joked self medicating and talking to her was cheaper than hiring a psychiatrist.
Now this place will be knocked over to make yet another conference room. 28 years later run by an employee of 42 years. Whilst I have three other watering holes closer to my flat with other bartenders who know me, it won't be quite the same as this place. Not by a mile.
I was posted to London after that but I had some return rights so every week I was back I would come back to the bar. This was before smartphones so most of my time was observing the crowd at the bar. Slowly everyone at the bar retired. The seat I am in now was occupied by a man who died of cancer. I arrived a few years after smoking was not allowed. I can only imagine in a completely interior facing bar with one door modeled after the square footage of a bar car you would be fumigated with tobacco. There is a model train that runs along the top of the bar. When it used to run, she would blow a train whistle and put on a conductor's cap. Countless people take photographs or videos of this. It was also a good way to announce last call - pun intended. Perhaps fitting as a metaphor the train slowly broke down. It couldn't get around the entire track and sometimes never started. It, like the bar and the bartender, headed for retirement at the same time.
When I returned after my London assignment, I made it a point to come regularly especially after I moved to a flat one block away from here. This bar opens 12p to 7p; again to cater to a crowd that doesn't exist anymore. When I decided to change jobs in the middle of the Great Recession, I debated leaving my job of 8 1/2 years with her. When my grandfather was in decline, I shared my struggles. When my mother finally retired, I shared the news. When I brought in my harem of women, she would evaluate them for me. When I had issues with bosses, she would take pity on me. When I got a bonus, I'd order expensively, as expensive as a small bar was capable - there is no champagne - and always always tipped lavishly.
In return, we'd share our interests in television shows; Downton Abbey, Mad Men, Boardwalk Empire, anything British and pro monarchy. She missed one season and I bought her the DVD set. She has Netflix now. When a new rail line opened, I got her a transit card so she could travel one rail stop instead of two subway lines. I have her birthday in my mobile so I drop off a card with cash, or flowers, or whiskeys I had a chance to taste, or cosmetics when the toll of the job was getting to her.
I came by even in the warm summer months when one ought to be at a patio. She used to have hot happy hour canapés Wednesdays to Fridays and I went from getting two to a plateful that made me embarrassed compared to the one the customer next to me got. That got axed due to cost savings. I probably ate 10kg of crisps during these past years. If I was getting a little out of hand, she'd make sure I was fed. If I told her my fridge was empty, she'd give me trays of takeaway from lunch service leftovers for free.
I moved from vodka to Stoli diet, then to rums and then because of Mad Men, I tried every old cocktail recipe she had from Singapore Sling to Old Fashioned. She didn't use a smartphone app to find them. They were bits and pieces of yellowed paper from a scrapbook in the back cupboard. She made my first Manhattan. And because she knew I was infatuated with the 1960s, she would give me 1960s sized martini glasses where the alcohol would fill up to the rim with a bubble. I later got to keep a set at home as a memento. I learnt about gins under her. Through 6 or 7 weeks I'd try different gin martinis to develop a palette.
When I was posted in Atlanta, I started coming for lunch. I'd have a three martini lunch and then head to the airport for the plane. Even for me, three martinis in 90 minutes can make one a bit wobbly.
Throughout the years I saw a lot of people here. The Indian chap who regaled about how the place reminded him of clubs in Bombay (not Mumbai) who clearly used the place to entertain accounts. A banker who checked his mobile like me as a way to decompress after work and occasionally inviting a host of industry friends. An old lady who would enforce the closing time and start cleaning up the bar, for the bartender always worked alone, when the patrons were still there. The people who were here ages ago and brought their adult working kids to drink here. The old 90 something lawyer who had the same soup, sandwich and crisps on a designated week day. A spunky lady who was always telling me about young people squeezing her into retirement or gambling. An Englishman footy fanatic who comes here to have two glasses of wine and goes back to work from lunch always in business attire. A lady who always has another professional lady date and splits a bottle of wine. A lawyer or accountant couple where the man is shorter than the woman but both quite affable. It's a hotel so some people make it a point to stay just to be at the bar; business men, retirees, tourists from Australia to Britain. One magical day about two months ago, I knew everyone in the bar...everyone. This would be the closest I would ever get to Cheers - except I never saw Cheers other than the intro.
There is no debit here. There is no chip and pin. You have to calculate and sign your credit card or charge it to your room. I've picked up cheques for some regulars. I've helped her pick up and eventually be paid back from gratuities cheques where people didn't sign or didn't pay properly. I always say whatever gets her to punch out faster I'd do it. I try to drink the full bottles and not empty any so inventory measurements are easier. When Macallan jacked up their prices she would let me know.
Every year there is a Christmas party she hosts. It's all the free hotel buffet food you can eat and a cash bar. It took me a few years before I was a regular enough to be invited. I ended up sitting outside the bar in the first year - the "patio" facing the escalator inside the hotel. By my final years, I was at the bar because I graduated to being a regular; or the regulars died off or retired.
I always tried earlier to invite coworkers and industry friends to try the place. Somehow she remembers their drinks and my drinks. When sales were down and she thought her place would be closed, I'd offer to buy out the place and put on a big bash. Luckily it never came to that. But in the end I stopped inviting all but my most intimate acquaintances. I didn't want the place to be polluted by a boisterous drunk. This was a place I'd knock off to ruminate about work for two hours, or if I'd come here to drink away my frustrations and then hit the post 7pm meetings after.
Those that come here regularly know to get our last drinks in before 7pm. She closes the door and takes down the sign around 645pm. When we leave, regulars close up the door so people don't come in. The bottles are protected by a glass door. It only closes up for me when I leave regardless of time because I'm always offered a whiskey for the road. At times the bartender needs to leave to fetch supplies or a washroom break and she entrusts us regulars to, as I always say, defend the bar. We welcome any patrons coming in to grab a seat or table and wait whilst keeping a watchful eye at the liquor cabinet.
For a time I was at Dale Carnegie and the classroom was down the hall in the hotel from this bar. It felt wrong looking in and not being able to grab a tipple. You can never buy her a drink because all these years she is professional when she is on the clock. I always joked self medicating and talking to her was cheaper than hiring a psychiatrist.
Now this place will be knocked over to make yet another conference room. 28 years later run by an employee of 42 years. Whilst I have three other watering holes closer to my flat with other bartenders who know me, it won't be quite the same as this place. Not by a mile.
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Lots of happy memories, but sad to hear that it's closing down, Fwiff - it doesn't sound quite right for the "What's making you happy today" thread!
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I'm happy for the retirement. Occupational stress or fatigue meant sporting short instead of long hair. Range of motion diminished.
At times I was asked for a second opinion on drink counts. Mental fatigue. I was under or over charged a few times due to a chaotic cocktail hour.
The bar still had cosmopolitan on the menu and everyone knows these days few people indulge in that.
It was just time.
Anyway I just said my goodbyes. I ordered cape cods when I first showed up. By the time I left I was a single malt, manhattan and gin martini drinker. I came as a boy and I left as a man.
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Good writing fwiffo
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+1
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Happy Canada Day
Lord Buckley
Well-Known Member
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I liked that whole bar and pub world and how joyous it was for many, many years. As the song goes "Dirty delightful drunken old days." But I find nothing common with the denizens who frequent these establishments now.
A couple of associates and ex-colleagues are still in that world. Well, on the odd occasion I join them I'm left feeling uninspired by the whole experience. Okay for a drink before a restaurant, but a whole evening? No thanks.
The atmosphere has gone and I think it's not just me. The gravitas that these are in places where the local hip go to be seen and entertained has evaporated. There is no "there" now when it comes to booze culture.
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It's you that has changed.
Kingstonian
Well-Known Member
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School reunion. Bar near Euston that is usually rammed with commuters but Saturday it was fine. I had cased another place beforehand in case our venue was too crowded.
Some people I had not seen for 47, 48, 49 years. Others I saw earlier this year, before Fulham played Spurs. Great to catch up. Some sad news and the inevitable medical issues. Reflections on how lucky we were and how London has changed over the decades. One chap is just back after working in Paris since the seventies. His kids moved here so he followed. News of others in Australia and far distant lands. Some of them are in regular contact and still go on holiday together.
Drank halves. I am finding this helps me pace myself and stay slightly more sober than the others.
Happy days...
Some people I had not seen for 47, 48, 49 years. Others I saw earlier this year, before Fulham played Spurs. Great to catch up. Some sad news and the inevitable medical issues. Reflections on how lucky we were and how London has changed over the decades. One chap is just back after working in Paris since the seventies. His kids moved here so he followed. News of others in Australia and far distant lands. Some of them are in regular contact and still go on holiday together.
Drank halves. I am finding this helps me pace myself and stay slightly more sober than the others.
Happy days...
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The Queen visited Canada House yesterday for the Canada 150 exhibit. Most of the media focused on the Governor General touching Her Majesty but gone unnoticed was the fact this was the Duke of Edinburgh's final public event.
Lord Buckley
Well-Known Member
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Hopefully his last unofficial act was having a quite word in Trudeau's ear.
C
C0keZer0
Guest
After witnessing a car accident yesterday, I am happy just to be alive.
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I'm happy a fellow alum won and broke the world record for 100m backstroke today. We're not known for sports so it's even more special.
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It was only 4 hours but I completely detached from the Internet and work and focused on getting my 3 pars and 4 bogeys. It could have been more if I had the time to practise my putting and somehow revitalise my short game.
Tactics were a problem in the last two holes.
This is as close as I can get to the cathartic experience people say they feel after doing yoga or something.
Tactics were a problem in the last two holes.
This is as close as I can get to the cathartic experience people say they feel after doing yoga or something.
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Taking an 8 year old girl's slightly sticky hand to help her cross the street and then go through the museum exhibits, explain dinosaurs, find bones in a scavenger hunt, navigate away (not towards) the live tarantula, get through throngs of crowds on the street, and get on and off the subway.
At some point she was reaching up to play with my pocket square and grabbing my arm because "I look nice" .
Well, the look on her face after a leisurely Italian lunch that I won't join her for the aquarium visit was a bit sad.
At some point she was reaching up to play with my pocket square and grabbing my arm because "I look nice" .
Well, the look on her face after a leisurely Italian lunch that I won't join her for the aquarium visit was a bit sad.
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Oh and another point to be happy about. I realised she reads out loud with alacrity until she stumbles on a word she doesn't know. She instinctively pauses and waits for me to fill in the blank - in this case it was Wyoming - and then once she hears it continues on.
I contributed some knowledge to the world explaining to her Greco-Roman nomenclature. Phagus showing up in this cobra snake's name means it swallows when it eats - like yourself having an eso-phagus.
Then I had to explain why it's called an aquarium. What's aqua? Planetarium . Solarium. Well I did my part for mankind.
I contributed some knowledge to the world explaining to her Greco-Roman nomenclature. Phagus showing up in this cobra snake's name means it swallows when it eats - like yourself having an eso-phagus.
Then I had to explain why it's called an aquarium. What's aqua? Planetarium . Solarium. Well I did my part for mankind.
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Learning Latin was useful for me.
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bob's a god damn wizard. constantly amazes me whenever i watch him.
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Loved that guy
Lord Buckley
Well-Known Member
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We only had Paint Along With Nancy, and Tony Hart.
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Wolfpack's title 'richly deserved'
"The Wolfpack clinched the Kingstone Press League 1 championship with one match to spare, beating the Barrow Raiders 26-2 in a commanding performance. The Wolfpack now moves up to the Championship league for 2018 but for the team and the club-record 7,972 fans on hand at Lamport Stadium, they were just ready to party."
Hurrah! We won promotion to Championship. Money buys everything.
"The Wolfpack clinched the Kingstone Press League 1 championship with one match to spare, beating the Barrow Raiders 26-2 in a commanding performance. The Wolfpack now moves up to the Championship league for 2018 but for the team and the club-record 7,972 fans on hand at Lamport Stadium, they were just ready to party."
Hurrah! We won promotion to Championship. Money buys everything.
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25c until next week. Looks like my golf game next Tuesday will be above 20c too. Hurrah!
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Going to the footy game tonight. My hometown versus Montreal. Derby game! I'm such a cheap bastard I bought left over tickets in the away supporter's section. Maybe my blue shirt and tie will abscond me from any abuse.
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Lana Turner was hot as donut grease.
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I like Grace Kelly more. She had this strange posh accent too.
I had a reprint of this one when I was in high school after seeing her in Rear Window. Little did I know that everyone and everything I admired was dead and gone by the time I found it in my life.
Pimpernel Smith
Tone Deaf Daddy
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I like Grace Kelly more. She had this strange posh accent too.
I had a reprint of this one when I was in high school after seeing her in Rear Window. Little did I know that everyone and everything I admired was dead and gone by the time I found it in my life.
I read somewhere she was actually a nasty snobbish prima donna, well, she could afford to be. Simply delish.
Missus just arrived back with the kids from some event. Apparently the biggest buzz was towards the YouTubers with channels on fairy cakes and toys. When my Missus and kids found out you can make serious dosh....they're now planning to storm the reality studio as well!
It really is a revolution, no wonder the legacy media is scared to death, they're being overrun by citizen journalists and kids in pretend studios.
This is the Burroughs dystopia turned on it's head. I love it!
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Well, she was hot so she had every right to be. I read she was a promiscuous flirt who would pull off stunts like go into a bathroom and return naked. On screen and in public, she was different. The type of impossible to possess unicorn that I'm always fatally attracted to.