Drunken Poet

Last week I was in Melbourne for a couple of days, exchanging one cities' bleak, cold weather for another's. On Wednesday night I went down to the Drunken Poet in West Melbourne for a pint or two. Its unassuming doorway is on Peel Street, just across from the Vic Markets. Like The Phoenix in Canberra, this is a pub with more than a whiff of the Emerald Isle about it, but hasn't stooped to the level of embarrassing cliche as typified by franchise "Irish" pubs. This is probably about as real as it gets, outside of Ireland. Along with The Phoenix, of course...

Unlike the raucous, vibrant Phoenix, the Poet is well-ordered and quiet. It turns out to be a great place to sit and catch up with a mate, Guinness in hand. The live music isn't overbearing, so shouting at each other isn't necessary. Unless we fancy an argument. The service is friendly and easygoing, and the patrons are happy just to be there, leaving the outside world at the door. And why not?

First time there, definitely not the last...

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