Home Sweet Stoneham Bar

So, anyone who was not part of the legend that was Stoneham 90-93 but who has read the first entries in this blog knows all about the who, but what about the where? Thus, for anyone who never experienced it, and for all of us that speak of it in hushed tones as a dearly departed, but unruly, love, I wanted to talk about the epicness that was Stoneham Bar (la la la).

South Stoneham House is a 16 story tower block, conceived in the twisted minds of 50s and 60s architects as ideal digs for Studentry. Through the front doors (someone should replace that smashed panel of safety glass in the left hand door, no idea who could have broken it), a right turn past the gents and hang a left towards the payphones. Round the corner where the ladies had a shorter trek for tinkling and avoiding the descent to your right into the hell wherein grey cheese was found inside burgers, one faced the doors to paradise.

A mere doorpush and there it was, in all it's glory; the Junior Common Room, graced at the far end by silver shutters masking glory - Stoneham Bar. At precisely 8pm the shutters would be up and the serious business of being a student would begin. Oh the nights we had in that bar! I am sure, as the orange blog expands, some of them may be told in full, but each one had its own charms. A typical night might involve an hour and a half of beer abuse, followed by the horrific realisation that I was not nearly pissed enough. Therefore, on a personal note, I would like at this stage to give a little heads up to the drink I invented to solve this problem. Liking the unique combination of Southern Comfort and Archers, 4 shots of each in a pint glass topped off by lemonade was the tipple of choice. This pleasant concoction was known as Dave's F*cker. The DF was only really suitable for those times reality needed obliterating, mostly a smaller quantity of the constituent ingredients would suffice. I am also pleased to report that I drink neither of these spirits any more and certainly not in the same glass!

That being said, back to paradise. From the bottle of Galliano that never got drunk to the disease riddled glass cleaner which succeeded in adding bacteria to used glasses, everything about the place screamed quality. For comfort, yellow plastic/mock leather covered corner group and wall sofas with the stuffing coming out of most of them and 20 years of dirty rat studentry embossed on the surface and the patches that littered the surface - magic darts! Your older self never got mandrillised like Stoneham got you mandrillised (for those that were not there, think squiffy, drunk, incapable, etc)

As with all good things though, we took her existence for granted. And so it was, 2 days into summer term in 1992, the axeman cometh (or rather the taxman) and insolvency laid our beauty low. It was good whilst it lasted though. Actually, it was great while it lasted. And now, with the tower block crumbling and (I understand) soon to come down and the memories slipping further back into the recesses of the mind, the last Bar Manager of (the original and best) Stoneham Bar bids the beloved old girl a final farewell and offers her hearty thanks for the ridiculous and glorious fun she gave.