Rum old time: the refitted room is a bold overhaul of the old space
(Picture: Adrian Lourie)The vexing hallmarks of ageing have started to appear alarmingly early. On Saturday, it transpired the old man in our group — is he 36? Is he 70? — can no longer get up without producing an involuntary sound, the kind of creak that doors make in the breeze. I’d had a moment of horror myself only days earlier when, aged 31¾, I wandered into Brixton’s Wood & Water and wondered when they’d turn that bloody racket down. When we had monthly lunches, my late aunt used to take particular pleasure in grumbling about too-loud music, which was impressive in its way as she was also pretty deaf. But Aunt was 95; I hadn’t expected to succumb to decrepitude quite so quickly.
Still, not everywhere — indeed, anywhere — needs to be built for lip-quivering chats about what difficult childhoods we all had. Gossip suits every volume. And the upshot of all that thudding bass was that the surrounding crowds in this long, narrow dining room were in improbably raucous moods for a Wednesday night, which is infectious. I’ll cart myself off the old folks’ home when a riotous feeling in the air no longer stirs a mischievous mood.
