I awoke this morning to grave news; my favourite watering hole, the Richmond Club Hotel, located on Swan St, Richmond, had burnt down.
The Richie Club as it’s known to those of us who live in Richmond put up a brave fight — 36 firefighters were needed to put down the blaze. They’d just installed an awesome plasma in the beer garden — I was looking foward to watching many overs of cricket in the summer and the footy in the following winter. So had my friends. I suspect the plasma’s gone too.
It’s as if I’ve lost a family member. I’m devastated. I’ve requested personal leave from work.
There are other options (Swan St isn’t short of a place to have a drink) but they each have their own character, their own vibe — and the Richie Club was where we went. Subconsiously. Constantly.
Anyway I’m still in denial. Anger will follow.
How do you cope with the loss of your pub?
4 Comments
1st – Tell the boss you have to have a day off.
2nd – call all your mates whom would drink there with you (I was there twice this weekend)
3rd – get a slab of beer and sit across the road a reminisce tell stories of how you were nearly thrown out untill the bouncer recognised you, how the bar staff looked after you etc.
4th – start a blog
Oh our dear Richie Club,
We are going to miss our faithful hub,
You were always there,
You always cared,
Oh our dear Richie Club!!
Lunch time to closing time,
You always welcomed and always shined,
We will miss your beers,
And shed our tears,
Oh our dear Richie Club!!
Ode to the Ritchie
(The Pub we Love)
Our beloved Richi club,
was the pub we loved the best.
We’d go there to carve it up,
or just to have a feed or take a rest.
The beers were always great,
and we’d share many of em with our mates.
Friendly faces always shone,
from behind the bar, the beer garden and beyond.
We could meet before the footy,
or just after work to have a drink.
You could forget about your worries,
and relax, or stop and think.
Richi we’ll all miss you,
just as we were getting close to summer.
All we wanted was to sit and have a few,
but you’re gone for now, and thats a real bummer.
But, there’ll always be tomomorrow,
so don’t worry we won’t shed too much sorrow.
We’ll see again you in the near future,
but for now we’ll stand and just salute ya.
RIP4NOW
Byrnie.
Wow! We’d already been totally overwhelmed by the response of locals and regulars and family and friends – but poetry on a Crikey Blog elevates it to a whole new level!
We’re already planning the new Richmond Club – its gonna be bigger and better than ever. Downstairs wasn’t affected and should reopen before Christmas. And by the way Leigh – the beer garden survived, including the big TV! Summer’s back on!
Matt, Doug, Tom, Andy and Mark
from the RCH
P.S We passed your love onto the pub, and he asked us to send this message back to you all.
An Ode from the
Richmond Club Hotel
to his beloved loyal punters
‘Twas a warm and sweet(ish) Monday morn,
I’d slept a restful night.
But as that night gave way to dawn,
I woke in anguished fright.
I’d been feeling… let’s say: nice and warm,
You know that sort of dream?
Almost romance, almost p*rn,
When the scene is filled with steam?
Guess who, that morning, at a quart to four,
Had got me worked up well?
That saucy little girl next door:
The Post Office Hotel.
But I digress – back to my story:
The heat reached higher and higher,
That warm sensation wasn’t morning glory,
I thought: “F**k me – I’m on fire!”
The office went first, the music booth,
The entire Lennox Lounge.
I sh*t myself, thought “Holy strewth –
I’m burnin to the ground!”
I cried for help with smoke-filled lungs,
Sent flames into the skies,
Their yellow sparks and orange tongues ,
A call to nearby eyes.
When all seemed lost I heard the sound,
And saw the flashing lights.
The fire trucks had gathered round -
So began the fire-fight.
The Fireys fought with nerves of steel,
Those men and women brave.
And there’s a debt I’ll always feel
For they saved me from the grave.
Now forgive me if I’ve said enough,
But I’ll say it right or not:
Those Fire-men are bloody tough…
And those Fire-girls are hot!
When the smoke had cleared the sight we found!
I looked a burnt-out dive.
My top was gone, my bottom drowned.
But I was still alive!
What spark, you ask, was so severe, it started such a fire?
A dance floor scorched by hot-shoe moves? A bomb? A funeral pyre?
It was nothing that cool that landed me, in the 3rd degree burns ward.
No, the thing that nearly burnt me down… was a f**kin power board!
I’m wounded sure, I’m hit, I’m down, my wings are cruelly clipped,
But when I heard of your support, man, I nearly flipped!
To know how much you all love me, well it brings tears to my eyes.
So like the proverbial mythical bird, from the ashes I will rise!