'We've three bands on
this evening and the first one's starting in just a couple of
minutes', the woman sat at a little exam desk said.
'Great'.
'It's £4 entry'.
'Not so great'.
'Go on then it's Friday
night, it's been a long week, a bit of live music might just do the
job'.
With the backs of our
hands stamped we walked into the venue to join the crowd.
Then we realised we
were the crowd.
Just then the band
struck up in a thrash of demonic fury.
The drummer brought his
sticks down on the helpless symbols like a serial killer making sure
the job was done, as the vocalist produced a terrifying guttural
groan like the sounds of a devil dog ripping up a rabbit.
I was trembling.
'Do you think will
notice if we slip out?', I shouted to my mate.
'Can't hear you, lets
just edge backwards towards the door very slowly'.
This was my first visit
to the Bitter Suite several years ago and as first impressions go, I
was left with more of the 'bitter' than I normally get in a pub.
But last week we
decided to make a long overdue return for a couple of Friday night
pints.
Despite it being in the
heart of the student strip which suffers in summer, it was packed
last Friday night with a friendly crowd who have all clear been
locals for a good many years.
No gimmicks to try to
drag customers in here.
But my attention was
very quickly diverted from the happy hum of people's week being
dissected, to the bar, loaded and ready with six real ales of my
choosing.
I felt like I'd been
reunited with a lost relative, someone who'd left for Australia so
long ago I no longer recognised their face, until their beaming smile
brought it all back.
We excitedly kicked off
the evening with a couple of pints of Columbus, then Forest of
Bowland's Hen Harrier, before going for some dark, chewy stuff which
went down a treat.
And unlike almost every
other pub in Preston which displays the same nostalgic old pictures
of Preston bought as a job lot from oldpicturesofpreston.com, they
have got some brilliant prints of every-day sights in the city from a
perspective you had never imagined.
Even if you are not a
fan of real ale or friendly locals, I would recommend popping in for
a drink to have a nosey at the 'pool room photo gallery'.
I waved goodbye to my
long-lost brother with a genuine intention to meet again.
Maybe next time we will
even have another go at a band.
*You can follow me on Twitter @RobinsonBee and let me know where I should go next
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