SOME pubs have closed down completely, others have been taken over by the people who speak the new speak. But under the same expert stewardship for about 15 years, The Grapes, or, as it has come to be known, The Little Grapes has remained a favourite fixture on the city drinking circuit.
On the corner of Knight Street and Roscoe Street, The Grapes has been closed for most of the year for refurbishment and redevelopment.
Now it’s open again, and guess what? It’s still The Grapes. Still the Grapes, just bigger. And with posh new toilets. Including a disabled version.
It could have gone horribly wrong, but there’s no need to panic! The improvements are exactly that...improvements. The music is delivered through new speakers, but it’s provided by old hands from Probe Records.
The new roof terrace
They have reconfigured the bar and removed some of the fixed furniture to expose the old doors and create more space. It has grown a large new room on the Roscoe Street side where the yard used to be.
Windows are bigger. Newly painted burnt orange walls are strewn with artwork and twinkling fairy lights,
The warm new room looks like it could be a place to sit and eat. Cleverly, the yard has been moved upstairs to the roof, where there is a covered area at one end and a large attractive round window set into the wall.
The old will have no problem growing into the new. The same well kept beers. The same people.
The same Sunday night jazz, led by Martin Smith and members of The Weave, is some of the best you will find in the country and the huge crowds it lures are clearly too cool for Mondays, let alone school.
The Grapes is now an institution. A local pub, a gin joint - not just for people who are from the area, but for people who have moved in and become a part of the community.
I saw a couple from down south in their mid twenties. Both were wearing Baga Beach kecks. It’s more like a club really. It has survived the gentrification of the area by providing a necessary habitat, and it is now sure to survive into the future.
It’s comforting to know that it’s always there, and just like Fu Manchu, I’ll be back.
