Now that I finally have time to catch up on this whirlwind 2 weeks where I’ve been away to Berlin and been an (ahem) excellent tour guide to an American around London, I’m going to be VERY SOON bringing you new posts on my thoughts and adventures.
But for now, I want to take you somewhere…
The walls aren’t just brick walls – not the type that has been manicured to look cool and ‘hip’. These walls have the irresistable decay of time strewn across its face. It’s not pretentious and it’s not showing off; somehow, it’s noble without knowing. Layers of plaster reveal themselves, having no shame in what it’s taken to get to the exposed brick.
Occasional glamour flirts smugly and slams down the idea that this is just some abandoned, uncared for building. A neon “BAR” – uncoincidentally above the bar – hangs loosely and laidback, while a poster marked “Wilton’s presents… The Great Gatsby” with a blonde-bobbed woman in a smooth, elegant dress leans and looks out across a body of water. This is Daisy. And this – this building – is Wilton’s Music Hall, in London.
I won’t attempt to put better the description Wilton’s gives of its own history here, but it’s been a music hall since 1839, and before that (since 1743), it was an alehouse (as I’m starting to think everywhere in Britain first was). Now it’s a wonderful combination: a place to listen to music and drink.
It’s perhaps the most chilled out place I have been, where everyone was friendly and I felt completely at ease. I don’t find that with a lot of places.