PUB REVIEW: SLAINS CASTLE

by Chris Hammond


ABERDEEN

Slains Castle Cruden Bay, “the castle of the dead” was one of the key inspirations for Bram Stokers immortal classic Dracula. Slains Castle Aberdeen, “the bar of the braindead” is about as inspirational as a piss stain on a bathroom mat.

Being the most atheist of Britain’s major cities Aberdeen has rather brilliantly thrown up a never ending supply of derelict churches to the pub industry; Soul (an eerily vapid drinking experience somehow more sinister than even the most deviant Dracula incarnation) and The Priory (just shite really) join Slains in being the most prominent of these watering holes of worship.

And on the face of it Slains is great! It’s a gorgeous silver church with a huge cavernous interior filled to the brim with suitably morbid décor. Suits of armour, bookcases for doors, chandeliers, torture implements and horror paraphernalia are liberally strewn across the bars two floors of gothic glory. It’s a real feast for the eyes . . . just not the other senses. Aurally it’s about as scary as it can get for an intelligent human being, with a hideous barrage of commercial R&B and pop destroying any atmosphere that the undoubtedly top notch surroundings might have induced. Likewise the edible wares on offer are equally unpalatable, cheap gassy lager and lurid, weak, sugary cocktails are the drinks of choice at a bar so unimpressive it almost seems as if alcoholics anonymous are in charge of the purchasing.

Clientele wise it drips with nervy first year university students finally unleashed after an eternity suckling their mothers teat – here they wander round sheepishly trying to avoid the more seasoned yet equally sozzled assortment of ruffians.

Scary stuff indeed. So much so in fact I’ll let a Bram Stoker quote summarise a Saturday night in Salins . . .

“A horrible feeling of nausea came over me, which, do what I would, I could not conceal."

Couldn’t have put it better myself.

Photo by cvander

FEATURE: THE ISOLATION OF ABERDEEN A DRINKERS DREAM

by Chris Hammond

Bleak, desolate, grey, wet, misty and teeming with dry, misanthropic oil rich goons – this is Aberdeen. Or at least that’s how many would have you believe the Granite city is these days. In truth it’s as buoyant and fun loving a city as any in Europe, with a night life second to none in terms of variety.

On a summers day the city sparkles in the sun. Glistening like diamond the Tollbooth, Castlegate and Marishcal College loom impressively on the horizon whilst the full grandeur of the relatively low rent Union Street is realised at the very least above shop level through the glorious spires, turrets, ramparts and architectural oddities on display. Nice place for a drink then?

Well yes and no. Aberdeen lacks any real outdoor drinking dens in the centre making summertime street drinking a tad problematic for tourist and local alike. In fact beer gardens are something the city completely lacks, with the charming Globe, brilliant Café 52 and the slightly out of the way student cesspit the Bobbin being the exceptions to the rule.

It’s the traditional pubs Aberdeen scores highly on. Unlike the tourist riddled Scottish capital Aberdeen’s more aged watering holes have survived commercial exploitation. Here an old style bar is just that, no razzmatazz, no t-shirts to buy and no huddled bands of fearful Japanese tourists. Good pints, friendly atmospheres and old school boozyness can be found best in classy Greyfriars, brilliant Prince Of Wales, legendary time capsule known as The Blue Lamp and the literally tiny Under The Hammer.

Trendy bars are however at a premium, and as a result the more conscientious drinker has suffered terribly since the loss of Estaminet a few years back. As a result beyond the aforementioned more traditional haunts much of the city centre is littered with absolute shit holes, infested with tubes, skanks and knuckle draggers. The worst of these horrors include the hellish Liquid, bland Wild Boar, hideously poorly staffed Revolution and gargantuan waste of space Chicago Rock Bar.

Unlike most of Scotland’s cities new pubs don’t tend to spring up in Aberdeen very often. But from the eclectic mayhem of the harbours Moorings and raucous Basement to the more civilised Ma Cameron’s there is a bar for every conceivable type of lush. Pack your bags get on the train and don’t expect to come back sober – this is Scotland’s insular gem and I wouldn’t have it any other way.