Beer: Heineken International Heineken 5%After a long day’s travel and after pitching up at my self-serve lodgings in the heart of Zurich’s bustling bar’n’ brothel zone, I was under-researched, but in no mood for adventure. Which led me, firstly to The Lord Nelson. No seats. The upstairs bar, The Lady Hamilton, was more accommodating.
The Hamilton's interior is lifted from an English pub devoid of leprechauns or old bits of agricultural machinery. There's a wide selection of lager, most of which I’ve tasted and am confident taste EXACTLY the same as each other. More or less. I’m able to pay by card, but there’s a 30 Franc minimum, so I’m given a hefty amount of change and am unexpectedly the sulky owner of Swiss currency.
English pub. Euro beer. Swiss money. American soft rock, then American raunchy rubbish with a big beat. The crowd grows steadily while I sit and try and read. The emerging clientele is young, loud and enjoying the Halloween decorations. The table next to me is dominated by some bloke pontificating and provoking one young lady into giggling with enough shrill enthusiasm and volume to cover the music. She’s a happy soul; half human/three quarters gerbil, pausing her mirth only for the occasional breath. She needn’t bother.
To my right, an older couple, eating a meal, dressed nice. Not dressed up, but nice. They, like me, are clearly in the wrong place. I leave as the music’s turned up, feeling vaguely disconnected with the rest of mankind. There’s a club night coming up; one of the DJs is called “Meh”. DJ Meh.
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