Night of the linguini

Yesterday had been a difficult day and the early evening didn’t get any better.  The need to unwind was fast approaching and the decision taken to tackle the tension with beer.  There’s many places in Ramsgate to get drunk, but on a Friday night most are host to live bands or loud canned music.  I was reluctant to suffer either of these.

So off to Wetherspoon’s it was, housed in the newly refurbished (by Wetherspoon’s themselves) Royal Victoria Pavilion.  This is a magnificent structure which had been restored very tastefully in the style of the period it was built.  Being met by security guards is normal at any popular pub on a Friday night.  On this occassion I was met with the drone of a thousand voices.  This was one continuous drone, constant volume, constant pitch, never stopping.  No problem….they do cheap beer and there must be some corner I can hide away in to escape the noise.  Several minutes later after waiting at a comparatively quiet bar, no service and no beer.  With many of the bar staff seemingly thinking it was more important to put glasses away than serve customers there was only one decision to make.

Goodbye Wetherspoon’s!!

Across the way is the Belgian Café.  Within sixty seconds of entering the establishment I had a pint in hand (Wetherspoon’s take note!!) and found a quiet spot at the back of the pub.  This was surprisingly easy considering it was a Friday night.  It was quiet, I had beer, the only thing to do (apart from check in on Facebook) was to peruse their menus and volume one of the (quite extensive) beer list.  Much later, after admiring the quirky decor, with posters lining walls ceilings and columns, I plumped for a linguini, I had no idea what the stuff was, Beer at the Belgian Cafenot being a foody, but it sounded like an ideal accompliment to the beer.  Some time later I’m full, I still had beer, and I was relaxed.

This was up until now, the perfect evening, but then, without fail, pianoman enters the building.  Seizing control of the upright piano placed at one side of ‘my’ part of the pub, he proceeds to bang out short sections of various pieces.  I could tolerate him if he played softly and played something from start to finish.  Maybe he just doesn’t know any songs all the way through, either way, his arrival was unwelcome, so not being able to do much about it I finished my beer and left.

I was fed, I was watered, I was unwound, time to head home before it all went wrong again!!

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