Owned by a very, very elderly couple who I think hated every last one of us, it was packed to the rafters with oddities like a centuries old divers helmet and a carriage pulled by a full-size zebra. Over the years, I saw countless bands there that went on to do great things (who all paled in comparison to the blind organist who played late into the night), it was where I met my fiancé and watched him play countless times. It was where friends covered themselves in hot wax in the name of ‘performance art’, it was where you could huddle up, hungover on a Sunday working your way through a questionable roast and arguing over a game of trivial pursuit from the ‘70s. When the couple who owned it died, it closed down, and when it reopened, all of the stuff from inside was gone, the beer taps and the windows and the toilets had been cleaned and nothing was the same at all. I miss that pub and I’m forever grateful to the owners for giving us that space to grow up in. Without it, almost nothing would have been the same."