Living next door to a pub: an even more perfect existance than you can imagine

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Today we went to the pub for lunch. Not just any pub. Not just “the local”. But OUR pub. I feel it’s ok to call it our pub because we literally live about three doors down from it. There’s actually only one house between our back fence and said pub and I can’t tell you the times we’ve mused about tunnelling under or having a shared walk-way through the neighbour’s yard in an effort to get ourselves to the pub that 5 seconds faster. So which pub is so glorious that we should move heaven and earth to buy a house virtually next door I hear you ask?

The Cascade.

It’s one of the oldest pubs around Hobart I believe. So they really know how to cook a steak coz they’ve had a bit of practice! It’s one of the few old fashioned pubs left in town - some might call it daggy. Uncool. Because it doesn’t offer things like panini, bruschetta, salt and pepper squid or risotto. Well call me uncooth but quite frankly when I go for a counter meal - I want a freaking counter meal!!! And I’m talking chips thanks love - no salad. It’s a beautiful place. The beer is cold, the food is FANTASTIC and there’s heaps of it. None if this dainty little portion size crap at the Cascade - their sole aim in life is to give you indigestion for the rest of your working week before you finally pass something that closely resembles - in both size and weight - a house brick.

Just writing that makes me want to go back over there and order another schnitzel.

Mmmmmm………….. house brick………………

Even the pots they use are pleasing to me. They’re the little short fat ones. Not the long trendy pilsner-type. I think some of my friends find them offensive. But to me they’re lovely - they fit in your hand nicely, they make you feel like you haven’t drunk a whole pot and thus need to have twice as many and, best of all, they’re low to the table - meaning a lower centre of gravity - meaning they’re harder to knock over in a passionate moment of wild gesticulation. See? Perfect.

I love to sit there amongst the Nannas having their Roast of the Day or pureed fish or whatever it is that they’re dribbling down the front of themselves and just soak up that pub atmosphere. I think it’s great that I can take my son there and he can lodge as many soggy chips as he likes into the neighbouring customer’s hair and no-one bats an eyelid. I enjoy being served by waiting staff who look like they would gleefully jab you with a cattle prod to move you out of their way if only it was part of their workplace agreement.

It is a truly wonderful experience every time. Not an ounce of pretense. No attitude. Just great food, cold beer and a 2 minute stagger home.

I love my life!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!