Life: the end of the Staff Club?

Anthony just sent me an email to this news from the South Wales Echo. It seems to be that the councils have taken action on the club and locked it. There is a note on a window saying:

"Take notice that we, Rhondda Cynon Taf, Bridgend, Caerphilly and Merthyr Tydfil (county borough councils), owners and persons entitled to possession of these premises, have today re-entered thereon in accordance with our power to do so and as a consequence of such re-entry, the premises have been secured."



That sounds quite dramatic. For what I had understood the club had been in a bit of a 'limbo' in terms of who posessed it or who took care of it since Mid Glamorgan was divided in those four councils. In the shadows, in the bottom of some pile of bureacratic scribbling, the club kept on going and eventually managed to be the Real Ale club of the year. The atmosphere is the one of the forgotten club, with the old wallpapers and old customers. Hopefully things change to better in the next days. Fuck, I need a pint. Strong one. Who does serve me now?

(Image is a composition of two slides shot by me. The guy sitting down and smiling is Maciej, the guy standing and shooting is a local with Maciej's camera.)

Life: at the Staff Club

It's a bit over half past five, on a Wednesday here in Cardiff. Already one hour ago Maciej texted me that he had had three pints at the Staff Club. This place is our Mecca. It's also Maciej's Paris. I would say that it's Maciej's Doisneau's Paris, but I'm not sure if the English language can strech words and sentences so far. Like any place that you know as well as your childhood neighbourhood, the whole life is represented there. It's also a great place to chat, meet people (or should I say wonderfull characters?), drink very cheap beer and sing in the karaoke. At least I sing in the karaoke till they take the microphone from my hands.



Enjoy life. That's the message in pictures that could be told of the Staff Club. Some other day the rest of that will be in the spotlight over here. In the meanwhile I think about how important is to have one of those meeting points, a secret cave, house on the tree or haven where everything is comfortable and feels like at home. You know everybody and everybody is accepted. Where do asses go?

I'm now off to enjoy myself, chat about things that matter, have a beer and later on go to my own small private Paris.


Picture by Maciej Dakowicz.