Behind Blue Eyes

I never bought into the whole Cool Britannia thing when it exploded in about 1999. I couldn’t tell the difference in coolness between the preceding and following few years. For me, Britain had always been cool. London has never had a shortage of amazing stuff to do and see. It turned out for example, after my crew from school had been there many times, that a particular club in Hoxton Square* was one of the officially cool places. The followers of fashion soon swamped it and destroyed what had been a good scene.

What I like most about London is the places which aren’t trendy, the places which people go to because they like them rather than because they have been told they should like them. I have rarely decided on a night out from a newspaper article. Cool places aren’t what the journalists says are cool but the places we find that we like. Britain does individuals rather than fashionistas. The only times I have run into serious trouble have been when I have tried to fit in with a particular crowd. These days I realise that people should take each other as they come.

On a hot day in September 1998 my parents had helped me unload my stuff from the car into my dingy, poky room in the ugly 1960s hall of residence and had driven off. All I could think was “what now?”. I started unpacking and setting up the room but what I really needed to do was interact with the other newbies. I wanted to prop my door open so as to be able say hello to people passing by but I could not find anything strong enough to overpower the door closer. I was beginning to worry that the world would be carrying on outside without me when there was a knock at the door. “I’m Richard, would you like a cup of tea?”. We have been firm friends ever since. He doesn’t even like tea.

Richard has now emigrated to Oz, but having read some of my sillier posts recently decided that he better come back to London to buy me lunch and cheer me up. We went to Rules which is, like Richard, effortlessly cool by sticking to its core principles. We ate rabbit, black pudding, half a barely cooked cow and drank some wine. And it was good. Very good. I will leave the expert to write a proper review.

But it’s not the venue, it’s the company. That is true Cool Britannia.

* which was definitely not fashionable when we started going there. Also the only place in the world where anyone has ever asked me “where have you been all my life?”.