Sadly, Soho these days comes over as very anemic save for the occasional gem, one being an unmarked (not illegal nor private) bar that I was taken to — you’d have to know it’s there to enter. A wonderful throwback to a time when Soho was still interesting. Though Bernard was a fixture at the “bloody” Coach and Horses these days it seems filled by those about to go to or are returning from an Andrew Lloyd Vombo musical.
But by far the worst thing about Christmas, apart from the suicidal tendencies, is the business of one’s pubs being invaded by these disgusting part-time drinkers who order snowballs, cherry brandy, cointreau and the like and who then deposit them on the pavement outside. You can’t get into your favourite restaurants for the mass of advertising people holding their annual get-togethers and the sight of these people affecting bonhomie for the one and only time in the year is quite sickening. Since they eat free on expenses all through the year anyway they could afford to give their Christmas office lunch money to Oxfam, Help the Aged or even to Help Keep Jeff Bernard Out of the Nick.