Five to eight hours we would spend at the Scotland Yard Pub in Canoga Park. Music, beer, and friends was the key to a great night.
Tonight, Friday the 13th this January 2023. We were debating going to the “Yard.”
We lazed around and asked each other,
“How about a pint at the Yard?”
“Ah, well the last bartender there tried to rip us off. No band playing around, and he wanted to charge us an extra fee.”
“Well, he most likely does not work there anymore, it has been a while since we went.”
“If you really want to go.”
“It might be ok, if we don’t like it, we can leave quick.”
So, we went, and I am glad we did. The “toxicologists” were really nice. Two people that had a history there but new to us. They poured a mean Guinness. Perfect.
I waited for the DJ to spin his records.
Telling the bartender,
“I will wait for my second Guinness. If I like the first song, he plays I will have another.”
I did. The technology is different, but the style was progressively historic. A mixture of generally fun songs.
One I liked was a rendering of Spandau Ballet’s – True. Which happens to be one of those songs that has a notch in my songs of synchronicities throughout my life. It comes a calling speaking the truth of life to me. Telling me good things. Like this bar has a soul.
We were drinking our first pint when a song came on the jukebox machine stereo. Another song that has meaning to me of confidence and movement in my life. Jimmy Eat World – The Middle.
A few years ago, I was wrestling through some dark times and that song showed up a lot to raise my spirits. This bar has a good spirit of friendship and caring. It listens to the people here.
Yet what really told me that punk rock still mingles in the air, corners, and heart of this place, a song by the band Fear came on as we walked in the door on the jukebox machine stereo.
Didn’t I just post something about the band FEAR today? That is how it has always been here at the Yard.
The first night there years ago when a DJ named Chris Ford played Suspect Device by Stiff Little Fingers, that is when I knew I was at a place that really got it.
I walked up to him and asked him to play another one of their songs. He was amazed I even knew who the band was.
This bar holds the magic of music, spirits and friends and I am so glad that the musical synchronicities which led me through this short hour are still alive and well and available to all who attend this bar.
It made me feel great. It was quaint, beautiful, and my potato chips in my Guinness foam were heavenly.
The Seminary of Praying Mantis Publishing 