An ex-colleague of mine once described Liverpool as being like a beautiful looking cake that creates the expectation of something special; but take a bite and it will make you hurl. And so it is with The Vines.
At that time I was PR for the region’s dominant brewer and now I can ‘ermmm’ and ‘eh, eh, eh’ like a native. This skill was put to great use as I battled through St John’s Shopping Centre having promised mum and Katharine a quality pub experience rather than the cheap tat of Albert Dock.
The Vines is full of promise; a grand statement from a bygone age. Admire the wonderful clock on your way in and note that this building is listed inside and out. Check out the craftsmanship in the woodwork, the friezes, even the beaten copper. Forget the Walker Art Gallery: this is one of Peter Walker’s true palaces.
Then ignore the broken glass in the doorway. Don’t be surprised to find the kids behind the bar asking all the customers if they know how to change a barrel, as the Fosters has just exploded. Ignore the CAMRA award behind the cigarette machine; they only serve cheaply made lager. Be prepared to give step-by-step instructions on how to make orange juice and lemonade. Forget food, they don’t even do crisps. Liverpool.
This posted via mobile via Flickr and so not so closely proofread. Click the pic to see it large (there’s an ‘all-sizes’ tab for really large).