As I'd hoped, I got to visit The Phoenix, albeit briefly, last night.
Work had gone horribly overtime, so I was faced with a choice. I could race back to the hotel, freshen up, then reconvene with my colleagues at the pre-arranged dinner. Or, I could go to The Phoenix, spend 60 minutes in my favourite Canberra venue, and go straight from there to dinner, still in my work clothes.
I got from the office to East Row in what seemed like seconds. I walked into the pub, sat at the bar, and ordered a Guinness. The chap next to me introduced himself as 'Murray' and proceeded to tell me his story. He could certainly talk and, after a full day, I was happy just to sit and almost listen.
The sixty minutes I had at my disposal flew by. I had two pints, heard enough about Murray to fill a book, experienced the twin joys of Going Underground and Fairytale of New York as they were pumped out from the (now digital) music system, and I left a satisfied man.
Farewell Phoenix, until next time!