Said it before, will say it again: I've got the dirtiest fetish for old man pubs.
Can't help myself, these are the pubs that made Australia great and they're dying off like the dinosaurs, replaced with shiny new things full of beanies and skinny legs.
The Kauri is one of the oldest old man pubs going around, you couldn't write a better cast of characters - at 5pm on a balmy Sunday evening the tables outside are littered with 40 to 50-year old boozers and malcontents, there's an ancient man with crutches, an old Italian bloke smoking cheroots, women in Adidas jackets with scraggly hair, fat blokes in footy jumpers, someone's got their Rascal electric cart parked up against the tiles, a Commodore with both mirrors missing hugs the gutter, it goes on and on.
People watching is off the chart. Inside we meet Sue, from Pyrmont, who's brought her 74-year old friend Miriam down for her birthday. Yelp Elite Lizzie K is part of the house band here and she's singing Amy Winehouse's "Rehab", the old ducks are up and dancing, they grab my friend off his stool for a waltz, I eat a $12 chicken parmy and - this is unbelievable - beers are only $3 during happy hour, which seems to go forever, and $4 normally. I paid $9 for a Peroni in the city last week. I almost vomited on my own shoes when the guy told me the price. But here! Well, I can do that for less than a lobster, and enjoy it much more.
This is the sort of place you'll meet people, real people, salt of the earth, no pretensions, up for a chat, who'll think nothing about buying you a drink because that's what people did back then and didn't want anything out of it. read more