This is not so much of a review, but more like an experience.
For weeks now I have been coped up at home on weekends, doing God-know-whats. Work, more work, some blogging, some pigging out, some drinking. It’s not life-threatening stuff, and I am not saying I am not enjoying it, but it has been more than a tad suffocating. There’s only so much Friends and McDonald’s ansd Webmail that a guy can take before he go totally bonkers and start dancing down the street with a kilt.
So before the lord of insanity claim ownership to my soul, I head out on a rainy weekend to Stanley. I think about the seaside pubs and joints and suddenly I just felt that I had to be there. So I went. Despite the meandering journey up and down a hill that took almost two hours no thanks to a broken down car, I was relieved to be at Stanley. The cold sea breeze, the plunging temperatures and the good companion were all I was looking for to unload some of these weariness that I seem to be carrying with me all the time.
There were many choices available along the seafront of Stanley, but for some reasons I am attracted to The Boathouse. Maybe it was the blue building with aquamarine deco and (most importantly) an empty table right by the street. I sat down and took a deep, cleansing breathe of the salty air. And then I took a sip of beer. Ice cold Erdinger has never tasted so good.
Pardon the sloppy appearance but I didn’t comb my hair that day. Long story, but that involved a missing instructor, a cancelled gym session and a surprisingly relieved me.
The buddy wasn’t in the mood for food, only fag, so this foodie soldiered on. After only twenty minutes perusing the one-paged menu, I settled on the unimaginative good ol’ fish-and-chips. At times too many options is bad news.
I know this doesn’t look entirely enticing, and for the record I did voice out my…. slight displeasure. But on this day I also learned not to judge the fish by its batter. This was fresh, slightly spiced and fried to a crisp crustiness (or was it crusty crispiness?) that I enjoyed very, very much.
Or maybe it was the Kilkenny talking (I just had to have another pint, nothing new there).
86-88 Stanley Main Street