Call me an old fuddy-duddy if you must, but what is it with licensed venues and loud music these days? There seems to be not a single pub around that doesn’t assault you with a wall of sound the moment you enter their premises, with TVs everywhere blasting out programs or loud speakers with music ramped up to aircraft takeoff decibel levels.
And so it was when your humble correspondent accepted an invitation from lifelong friend Les Pullos to attend the opening of his revamped Ric’s Cafe in the Valley Mall the other Wednesday night. Both levels of Ric’s had music thumping away which made conversation extremely difficult. Upstairs was the worst, with a DJ – I believe that’s what they’re called – blasting out modern music at deafening levels. I mean, really! Hadn’t this bloke heard of Mel Torme or Bing Crosby for goodness sake. Still, it’s a very fine venue now, and there’s this great balcony upstairs where I took refuge from the cacophony inside.
Lovely to sit out there and watch the mall traffic, especially with Les running back and forward with my scotch and dries (yes, Pimms Dakotas with citrus peel were not on the free list!) and delicious finger food. Still, I guess I am being old fashioned about such places.
All the youngsters present – and that basically included everyone except yours truly, Les and local councillor David Hinchliffe – seemed to lap up the noisy atmosphere with gusto. Apparently the art of conversation in lost on this latest generation, which seems a pity to me.
When your correspondent was a gay young blade, chatting to the ladies – well, listening to them talk about themselves for hours on end at any rate – was absolutely crucial to a successful outcome at the end of the night, if you get my drift.
