For some time now I’ve had a dream. One that could quite possibly make my fortune. Alright, probably not, bit it’s provided the impetus for some damn fine drunken pub conversations.
If you are familiar with Charing Cross Road in london you will know that it has an abundance of second hand book shops. About a year ago I looking for a birthday present in one of these shops and enjoying myself immensely. Whilst doing this I realised that there was no reason why this couldn’t be combined with beer. Two of my favourite things. Books. Pubs. A book pub. It’s the dream.
I shared this idea around in various drunken moments and fleshed it out a bit.
Name – must be literary, but boozy. Ideas include “the falstaff” after the notoriously drunken shakespeare character and “the moon under water” which was the name of George Orwells imaginary ideal pub (more on this in a future post).
Location – tricky. Definitely wouldn’t work in deepest darkest derbyshire, or in hipsters paradise hoxton. Ideally it would be in bloomsbury.
Book selection – we’d have a booze section, but I’m not sure whether that would include cocktail books. It would mostly be a second hand selection, and any valuable books would have to be separated from the booze to avoid costly spillages.
Policy on reading – this is a tricky one. It seems a bit much to stop people reading in a pub themed on reading, but nobody I want to hang around with wants to drink in a library.
I’m not saying that the plan is perfect, or even particularly good. But the idea of sitting next to a fire, reading a good book and drinking a beautiful beer sounds very appealing.