Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Staygo?


Getting ready to take a cocktail shot. I have a ridiculous job.



I found out last night that the job I thought I was going back to in London has probably fallen through. Looks like the magazine may fold because of the crappy economic conditions in the UK. Spent a good few hours panicking about it and wondering if I should cancel my flight and take up one of the offers I’ve had here, despite the fact they aren’t really what I want to do and I’m about ready to head home for a while anyway.

Then later that night, a chap I know offered to invest quite a lot of money in me and a friend to start our own magazine. It’s a hell of an opportunity and owning a mag and being able write about whatever the hell we wanted would be amazing. You never know, I might actually make some money for once. Decisions to be made.

On top of that I’ve just scored two regular freelance gigs that will keep me ticking over for the six months it would take to get the mag going, so happy days.

And two of my best friends just had a baby boy, called Huey.

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Pete Possumthwaite
















This is Pete Possumthwaite. He was trying to get into our kitchen on Tuesday during a thunderstorm. We left some crisps out for him last night, but he didn't come back. I think it may have been a one-time shelter from the storm deal.

Monday, February 23, 2009

No Flak Jacket Required


This being my last week in the Bartender office before I go back to England, I've been too busy to write a personal blog, so I thought I'd post today's work entry from 4bars.com.au, and also a picture of a really big ship steaming into Sydney harbour.

If The Sunday Morning Herald, The Telegraph and the mainstream media in general are to be believed, a night out in Sydney is best experienced wearing a flack jacket and Kevlar helmet. Ideally you should also enrol on the survival course foreign correspondents take before being posted to Afghanistan – that way you will be able to commando-roll from your taxi into a restaurant, avoiding the flying glass, bottles and knives.

Day after day, sub-editors write headlines clearly designed to be spoken by Don LaFontaine, the guy with the deep, sinister voice on a thousand movie trailers: “In a world…ruled by drunken lawlessness, we will sell more papers”.

Anyone who’s knowledge of Sydney nightlife came solely from the news media could be forgiven for thinking this city is off limits; simply too dangerous at night to warrant visiting. Those of us who live here and go out unmolested on a daily basis know that this is not only untrue, it is an incredibly damaging message to be sending at a time of financial unrest. We need people to go about their lives and spend money enjoying themselves – and that’s not only the bar trade, the entire economy is relying on this if it is to recover.

I moved to Sydney from London in November last year, and doing the job I do, have visited many more bars and hotels than a ‘civilian’ would have in the time since. In all of my nights out, I have witnessed at first hand just one act of violence, which was a fairly innocuous ‘Oi, you spilled my beer’ type deal that was quickly defused by very professional door staff. At no time have I felt ill at ease in Sydney, and although it’s fair to say the Cross gets a bit intense at times, this could no doubt be greatly improved with a few more police officers on the beat.

Like so much news reporting these days, the objective of these stories is to create sensation and fear. At a high level editorial meeting the decision was made to be ‘anti’ pubs and bars; you could almost call it part of the media’s manifesto. Their default position when reporting on the licensed trade is currently negative (have you seen a single story about the dozens of bars raising money for the bushfire appeal?) and it will continue in this way until they find another cause célèbre that better serves their political agenda…never forget who owns the newspapers.

We had to endure a similar demonisation of the trade in the UK a few years ago; every other story in the papers proclaimed yet another night of rampant, alcohol fueled violence. In fact one morning as I was watching the news before going to work, I was informed that my neighborhood had supposedly become the murder capital of London (again, this was read by Don LaFontaine). A few days later, presumably because the police had started a new spreadsheet, that dubious honour moved to another district, but nothing ever changed as far as my friends and I could see. It was simply our turn under the microscope of lazy journalism.

The public will eventually tire of reading sensationalist stories and the papers will be forced to shift their attentions to another subject. Until then we as the bar trade need to weather the storm and keep doing what we do best - providing guests with the kind of drinks, service and experience that turns them into unpaid PR agents for Aussie bars and cocktails.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

For EB - Sorry for the previously misleading post title


please excuse the ridiculous hair. Meet Charlie.

Monday, February 16, 2009

Bathboom Gincat

I’ve spent the better part of today writing a feature about Prohibition in 1920s America, which is an interesting subject if you throw in Al Capone and some bathtub gin explosions. It occurred to me half way through though that I am pretty much sick to death of writing about booze and bars; I haven’t written about anything else for two years and I think I need a breather.

Having just had that thought, a blog feed I subscribe to pinged up a new entry; it’s by a chap who freelances for a local paper in Philadelphia. His piece talked about the place local papers have in a community and how important they can be. I think he is right. I’ve been wondering what to do when I get back and I think I’d like to have a go at that. It would be nice to be contributing to a slightly wider audience than Australia’s mixology community.

‘Cat stuck in tree’ would certainly make a change from the hand-chipped Vs Hozisaki ice debate.







Here's a picture of the Dog Track Tractor I took on Saturday.

Sunday, February 15, 2009

Dogbeans

My brain will not function today, I don’t know why. Have been sitting in front of a blank screen for almost four hours now and nothing is coming out. Not so much of a problem for these pages, but I have half a magazine to write in two weeks and it aint happening at this rate.

I booked a ticket back to London at the weekend. Feeling both good and bad about this, which is to be expected I suppose. I came to Sydney to edit a magazine - something I have long wanted to do but at times thought would never happen - but the mag has become the latest victim of the global economic shithouse and as a result, so have I. As happy as I am to be going home to friends, family, cats and a band, I’m sad to leave the magazine and new friends behind, and I really hope I get the chance to do it again somewhere else.

Still, on a more positive note, it was a weekend of firsts for me. I broke my Australian greyhounds cherry (which sounds like a sex spam email headline) and can report that going to The Dogs here is exactly the same as it is at home but with better looking, suntanned chavs. I also refilled a bean bag with about 100,000 tiny polystyrene beans and it was one of the most satisfying and messy things I’ve ever done.

Got an email from some journalism website asking for an interview which is a bit random, but here it is: http://www.whohub.com/iveswrites

Thursday, February 12, 2009

Rain Much?

Getting shit from Aussies about English cricket, rugby and weather is a daily occurrence, and sport-wise they have a point, but Jeebus the climate here is messed up. Last week it was 45 degrees with a hot, dry wind. Now it’s 19 degrees and has rained for 2 days straight. The temperature literally dropped 20 degrees overnight; it was like waking up in a different country on Wednesday morning.

Still, its good news on the bush fire front.