NAE MINCE IN MORAY

Totally unrelated to anything pub wise but worthy of viewing none the less, The Scottish Pub Guide staff can't get enough of this weird wee tune from further north.

PUB REVIEW: THE MOORINGS

ABERDEEN


by Chris Hammond





Having once had the pleasure of living on the elegantly grim Marischal Street, I was once a mid-week regular at The Moorings. Here you could sit, scoof and survey the sights of Scotland’s most surreal harbour haunt.

Resembling a cross between a typical American dive bar and a secret pirate hideaway, the Moorings is a drunkards dream. Floor to ceiling are crammed with esoteric artefacts and nautical novelties, bar staff are unnervingly unhinged and the locals constitute a mix of students, seamen, goths, rockers and drifters. It’s a melting pot of boozed up mongrels, intent on a guaranteed hard rock, Jaegermeister fuelled oblivion. Live (predominately shit) music, dozens of exotic beers, tonnes of almost toxic shots and an overbearing atmosphere of excess, combine to provide bandana clad buccaneer and suited up scoundrel alike a momentously enjoyable experience.

In here I’ve been whipped, propositioned by a pregnant punk, survived some titanic urinal splashback and chatted to a tramp about constipation – all in the same evening. The Moorings is a one off and comes highly recommended.

FEATURE: BOOZY SHORT STORY

by Chris Hammond

Here's a little something I wrote for Hyper Short Stories - a blog which asks writers to submit 50 word tales on a certain prompt. I thought the concept was great and it's the first thing remotely creative I've done in months.

Yesterday I Spent My Last Dollar

"Eyes flick open. Stale beer on the tongue. Face stuck to the wooden floorboards, coat and shoes still on. The rain lashes against the kitchen window and the oak outside sways in the gale. Nature wouldn’t feel so active had it spent its last dollar on a pint of ale."

Click the link to check out the blog - Hyper-Short Stories

HALL OF SHAME: THE GRANARY

By Chris Hammond

ELGIN

Up north in Elgin for the week, it would have been rude not to indulge in a cheeky wee pint or two over the duration of my stay. And indulge I did. The Cooperage, Thunderton, Dicey Reilly’s, Muckle Cross and Rising Sun all had the pleasure of my company over the period. And whilst those who are familiar with many of these pubs won’t exactly be deliriously ripe with anticipation at the thought of them – I quite enjoyed their limited wares and general lack of aesthetic charm.

Later towards the end of my stay, it was mooted that a swift pint in the Granary might be a good idea. Essentially a godsend on its inception (when it was known as the Foundry) but lacking in thrills thereafter, things seem not to have changed much over the years. Inside it’s still the sort of high end youth club for adults you tend to find in small towns. You know the sort – pool tables, hot food, big screens, late night disco, themed nights, tea and coffee for the old buggers booze for the young ones.

So far so bland. But it isn’t the mundane lack of definition which makes this such a disappointing drinking den, it’s the utterly horrendous quality of the draught beer.

Amstel, Heineken and Peroni on tap might not force a seasoned city drinker into popping to the loo for a sly chug, but in Elgin these three beers are priceless and tasty commodities. I had been warned by my companion not to be drawn to these non-Tenants draught options and to stick with a bottled beer. I should have listened, because the pints were . . .

Awful.

Abysmal.

Rancid.

Watery.

Disgusting.

Offensive and

Literally the worst I have ever had anywhere on draught out with a Student Union. I'll be interested to see whether things have improved next time in in these parts.