I’d almost settled in for a quiet night in, when out of the blue my older brother rang. As I was at a loose end, and usually don’t take much persuasion, I gave myself just enough time for food and a shower, and met him down Southsea.
I don’t usually like meeting down Southsea, as there aren’t enough pubs for my taste, at least not enough that aren’t packed out. This we found out having made the mistake of moving on. We made one more pub before it was getting close to the end of normal drinking time.
I’m not sure whether this is a problem with living in a smaller city, or whether the problem is everywhere, but the idea of 24 hour drinking in a lie. Certainly in Portsmouth, come 11.20 you’re always stuck without anywhere to go, unless you head for a noisy club, that frankly I never liked 15 years ago, and now that I’m older and wiser, I like them even less. There are some exceptions though, if you know where to go.
A pub I remember fondly was The Osbourne, myself and my mates used to drink down Southsea quite a fair bit until a lot of pubs started closing. In fact, the seafront used to be the main stretch where everyone went of an evening for clubbing etc., but the residents eventually forced the clubs out and Southsea has never been the same since.
So, when my brother suggested it had re-opened as something else and stayed open late, I couldn’t resist the curiousity. I wasn’t happy paying £3 to get in, but it was cheaper than the one remaining club down there (even if we could get in). The bouncer / door man probably needs to work on his promotion more though: “look at it this way, you’ll at least get a shag from some old bird” doesn’t really swing it for me.
And I certainly felt young in there. I might as well have been a teenager again, compared with the age of everyone else in there.
I think I made a bad suggestion that we could get into Marthas still. Compared with staying there for another drink, it seemed like a better option. I’ve never had trouble getting in to Marthas before, but I think we just looked like two straight blokes trying to cause trouble. As that was only half true, I eventually managed to convince the door woman to let us in.
Unfortunately though, it was a naff evening there. It started to get better, but my brother was starting to look uncomfortable, so after about an hour and half we left. That’s when things got interesting.
Three blokes and a girl where outside in what seemed like some wasted effort thinking the could still get in (half an hour before close, there was no chance). They weren’t gay and they were hovering outside a gay club, so I wasn’t comfortable and wanted to make a hasty move away. My brother doesn’t have the same concerns so was more than happy to chat to them.
As it turned out, they were French travelled over for the weekend, and this was the first place that stubled into. My brother being ever-helpful tried to point them to somewhere still open. Although the chances were slim, we suggested a night club, and my brother offered to show them. At this point, I wasn’t going to let my brother go off with them on his own for safety sake, so I reluctantly went with them. They seemed nice enough, I was even smitten on one of the blokes, and clearly my brother was smitten with the girl.
Despite nearly getting killed driving the wrong way down a main street, we found the club to be closed. Fortunately, there were smokers outside and understanding our French cousins desperate plight for a drink, suggested somewhere that may still be open. But it wasn’t to be, and eventually we parted company having finally given up.
Even though I was more comfortable that these people weren’t out to murder us, I didn’t like the fact that my brother agreed to being dropped off by them, but luckily he had the sense to ring me to let me know he was ok.
