'Ted's' in red neon light with an angel halo were all that marked the entrance from the stale brown bricks.
"This whole lot used to be buzzing. This very place used to be a workshop, making customised furniture for all sort of ships," he was proudly telling me while I was sitting in his lap.
Now the fading ads falling to the wind was the only thing that brought life to the alley. Surely during the day that is. The night, well it has a different story to tell. At least here, in the inside. The club, like itself, kept things rather inconspicuously tucked.
I noticed that, though the brick paved alley was not particularly kept, still, there were no homeless people hiding in the shelter of the porches. Of course, back on the corner there was the shabby looking off-licence next to a yet another greasy chippy, yet next to another dull pub, and yet next to another Thai nail salon. But then, there was no fancy disguise. No fancy artist-designed street signs nor ethically procured hand-made leather accessories that cost a mortgage downpayment.
In a sense, the neighbourhood did have an order but then, it was different from that where I have organic avocado atop stone-backed bread during our mothers-only brunch as we gossip our frustrations. Sure here too, there were gossips, plenty of them really, but then they were without the half truths and the self-serving justifications. Here, facades didn't sell for much. No one could afford them.
"But what happened to all the rejuvenation money that the government has promised?" I asked, still sitting in his lap while sipping on my cocktail. I had my arm around his shoulders while he had his on my hip.
"Oh it was spent," He answered me before taking a long breath on his cig.
"On creativity workshops and how-to seminars," Archie continued the answer.
Archie is the pastor from the local church, only two blocks away. He is in his mid 60s, an 'old gentleman' in the eyes of some, 'a man' in the eyes of others, and a 'very naughty man' in the eyes who know him better.
"We even hosted some of them back at the church," he continued, sipping on his gin. He was sitting with us, the three of us in Ted's office.
"Oh the men here are very creative, I'll tell you that," I smiled answering looking him in the eye.
