I have held a distant and, until very recently, unrequited love affair with a pub opposite St Mary Redcliffe Cathedral called the Colosseum. From the outside it doesn't look like much; 1960s brick, flat roof and featureless windows, but the little of the interior I could see from the outside held huge intrigue for me. It had the air of an American dinner, come bar and over the years I had mentally fitted the place out to the point it resembled nothing less than the bar in the TV program Cheers. At night the effect is heightened with the numerous flashing neon signs saying "Budwiser" and "Bar". I knew full well it would never live up to my mental image but none the less last Friday morning when running early for a meeting I decided to break nearly 4 years of wondering and stopped in for a coffee and breakfast.
Oh MY. The disappointment was palpable. Not a cowboy in sight, but it wasn't the Colosseum's fault, it was mine. I should have either stopped building it up years ago, or continued to admire it from a far in all its totally fictional Americana glory.
In my refusal to sit inside I did however get to take in the long shadows and the morning sunshine along with a great view of the Cathedral over my Daddies sauce.
And the scores on the doors: Coffee, 6 on 10. Breakfast bap, 4 on 10.