LONDON CHRONICLES: THE (OLD) INTREPID FOX

At the end of this month, 13 years ago, one of the most valuable and rewarding life experiences came to an end. Those 2 years in London were the schooling for life which shaped me in the way I’m nowadays. The intensity and weight of experiences abroad, in an alien environment and a narrow period of time were far more influential than 5-10 years in my hometown. I stopped being a dependent teenager to become a young adult. But hey! Don’t think I was a nun or a saint! Well, I already know you can’t imagine me being such, after what you’ve been reading here.

My London memories are still fresh and vivid in my mind, and I have so many great stories I enjoyed, I’ve been thinking for a while it’s be funny to tell some here, and see if I can manage to bring them back as if they were short episodes of my personal book.  From being fined for sneaking into the train to the industrial laundry factory I used to work, to the night I got pissed with Dave Wyndorf while attending a show performed by QOTSA, there are definitely good moments worth telling.

As a prologue chapter it’s necessary to tell about the center point in the city. My personal Mecca, and one of the coolest places in London, which unfortunately no longer exists: THE INTREPID FOX in Wardour St.

The intrepid fox

Sure many of you will yell at me remarking The Intrepid Fox still exists, but that’s the one close to Denmark st, which opened right after the original one was closed down. Huge and a better looking place, but lacking of the charm my Fox used to spread. Gotta admit they’ve perfectly reproduced the essence of those stinking toilets and those Saturday night floods. Disgusting!

The old Fox was in the heart of Soho, in the very same street at the classic Marquee Club, and it was my personal paradise, the place I hung out most together with my place of work. Really, I used to spend more time there than in my own room.

Many personalities I’ve seen there: Dregen of Backyard Babies, Ginger of The Wildhearts, all the local artists and rock personalities and there’s a popular legend stating that Slash was banned due to a quarrel which finished with someone thrown off to the street through the window pane. It was the heart of the rock-metal scene.

I loved the street floor, full of posters, red lights, very gothic and lively. It was super noisy and packed on weekends and very cool on weekdays, and music, was great depending on the waiters. It was there where I listened to Fu Manchu and Buckcherry for the first time. impossible to forget.

waiter at the fox

Waiters used to rotate very often but I could meet some of the supervisors. It was different than in Spain, if they paid you a beer it was actually they paying, as breweries used to accurately control what was served, and everything was measured. It was a bit distressing for them when I started drinking calimocho and it became fashionable. They had to mark a price and set some kind of measures, thus, a pint of calimocho was a glass of red wine, ice, and coke for filling. It was 3,25. Ha! And it tasted awesome!

It was funny when a couple of night ago when chatting with my Achilles’ Heel, he started remembering the crazy nights live which always started at the Fox. We shared great ones. All who used to hang around remember epic stories over there. Now it comes to my mind one evening they started playing Iron Maiden songs, one hit after another, people were standing on the tables and I was lifted and moved from one side of the bar to the other, as if crowdsurfing. That place had something and it was great for meeting people and getting picked. I never had a problem being there on my own. There were always acquaintances around.

The old Intrepid Fox was the extension of my house, actually it felt like my personal living room, and definitely it was one of the coolest bars I’ve ever had the pleasure to hang out at. It’s great to think of a place and relate it to good times. Miss those days.

5 responses to “LONDON CHRONICLES: THE (OLD) INTREPID FOX

  1. El bar estaba chulo, pero para entrar en el WC de hombres había que hacerlo en apnea, que horror de olor….

  2. Me gusta! Quiero leer más! (Soy un jodido cotilla)

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