FLIPPER OF THE COIN
1:07pm Monday 19th May 2008
Mount Everest was once described as a mole hill with snow on it, Kilimanjaro as a publicity seeking Popsicle and the Eiger a speed bump. You may or may not agree that Windmill Street could be a shrine to all hardy rock climbers, but to ascend such an epic mound, enduring the likes of a rampaging blizzard or the beating rays of the cruel sun is cause for celebration and what no better way to do it than to enter the salvation that is The Dolphin public house. It is not known whether Hilary, Bonnington or Eastwood (for those who have never seen the Eiger Sanction it is a very good film Honest!) have ever sampled a swifty in The Dolphin, but if they did what would they be missing out on? Well shall we leap upon the skate board of beer, and career down the hornpipe of ale! Ok lets! Windmill Street is a winding hilly road which can just be found off Mill Lane right next to the Gardnier-Caldwell building. The pub is basically at the summit of said street, but is there any such windmill in sight? Were there any budding Don Quixote's milling around as it were? Well no is the answer, but the pub is opposite an expanse of land called St Georges Recreational Park (affectionately known as The Tip') on which you can play: football, rugby, international ice skating and other games; but dare to bring your five iron and you risk been bunkered by the authorities. The Dolphin is contained in a large white building whose outside lights helps it shine like a beacon to all those travelling under the cover of darkness. And what will the children of the night findwell. The pub is divided into three rooms the first being devoted to that most skilful of pub games darts, there is a television in one corner and there are red velvet seats to make one-self comfortable. If you are feeling peckish there is also a sweet dispenser which to give its technical name is the Round Beaver 16 or the Northern Beaver (manufactured by a company called Beaver Vending' first established in 1963 as Machine-O-Matic') but I digress! Room number two is basically an arena where you hold meetings or espy the activities of local swingers; please do not become too excited becauseskittles is a rare pub game that has hitchhiked down the same avenue as the Dodo, but it has clung on by its fingernails for survival. For those who think Skittles are a popular confectionary, think again. It is game that any competitor taking part must have the eye of the Bald Eagle and a first class honours degree in geometry. The aim of the game is to swing a ball which is attached to a chain, around a pole and try and knock down as many wooden skittles as possible. You may think it is a cinch, but if you only have one little skittle remaining, be ready for frustration to engulf your world.
The Dolphin's main lounge as it were or as it is, is furnished with grey/green seats either side with plenty of tables to place your glasses. There is an open fire above which is an extremely clean humongous mirror for the most vain of drinker to adjust his or hers appearance. Two lost pieces of art masters, both of which could have been produced by Turner or even Rolf, hang on one side of the painted wood chipped paper walls. If you do further observing you will notice horse brasses, brass plates and a variety of horns of the musical variety dotted about. Food is served mainly on Fridays with such dishes as Scampi, Steak and Kidney Pie, Battered Cod, Bacon & Brie baguettes and Chicken Curry enough to fill you mouth with the entire contents of Lake Windermere. If you go in for lunch on any other day a member of staff may rustle you up a sandwich but only if you ask nicely!
It is has become familiar feature of this column to guess the year of the pub carpet, on this occasion The Vizier was accompanied by his In-Laws who after a brief consultation came to the conclusion that 1973 was a good but safe bet. Any way carpets, horns or swingers cannot defy the fact that we are only here for opal fruits!
The Dolphin has a small semi-circular bar which would not look out of place in Del Boy's front room, its back drop a glittering an array of whiskies, vodkas and other shorts to warm the cockles. Atop the front of the bar is a shelf full of ale glasses that will shatter the belief that bartenders/bartenderesses are members of the magical circle who summon such glasses from behind their ears. If you are the type that likes their beer in a sub-zero bottle there is a towering well-stocked fridge containing hard as nails beers such as Becks, Bud, Newcastle Brown Ale, Smirnoff Ice, Bulmer's, Magners and also soft drinks such Coke, Apple Juice and so on. Now onto the ale.If there was one commandment that Moses purposely tried to scratch off the second stone tablet it would be that the beer christened Old Tom must only be consumed by the half, dare to have a pint, and the seven plagues of Egypt would only be the start of your worries. At 8.5% abv it considered too strong for mere mortals but for Emma, my sister-in-law, claims it grew on her with every sip. Hatters Mild (3.3% abv) is also available and was described by Colin my brother-in-law, as well kept. My third cousin four times removed was not available for this trip so it was up to The Vizier' to sample the other wares on offer. Tempus Fugit at 4.2% abv is a delight (now replaced with Top Tipple 3.9% abv, also a spiritually uplifting); the house beer Unicorn 4.2 is also kept in very good condition. And whom do we place upon our shoulders and parade down Windmill Street because it would be agony going up! Come on down Mr John Lythaby and accept the applause that every reader of the column is now giving you!
On the Saturday we visited The Dolphin the pub was unusually bereft of human life, this was put down to the adverse weather conditions i.e . . . . A raging blizzard accompanied by 150 mph gales and so on. Although on a subsequent visit there were some friendly locals who were up for a chat. The worrying thing is that it is becoming somewhat of a trend to reject your local for a cheap bottle of plonk and cut price 6 pack. Saturday night is the one evening in any ones life where hair should descend to the deck, inhibitions let loose to roam the land and a visit to your local boozer is a must, it is the heart of your community even if alcohol is not your cup of cha then a sojourn to the pub to socialise and mix with your neighbourhood brethren maybe a joy and not a taboo.
The Vizier