I arranged to meet my old friend Stefan at MacnabÂ’s in Balham tonight. When we were both single Balham men, we often used to meet here for some food and a bottle of wine, before heading on to GoblinÂ’s on Bedford Hill for some illegal late night drinking. Sadly GoblinÂ’s closed down a couple of years ago, a sad loss, which left a gaping hole in the social lives of about eight, slightly odd, Balham men.
Now Stefan is married (incredibly meeting his wife in GoblinÂ’s, which is all but impossible as no women ever went there) and living in CollierÂ’s Wood and I have a girlfriend and am shortly heading out West, so we decided to meet up for old timeÂ’s sake in MacnabÂ’s and relive the old bachelor days, where we would morosely sit in the wine-bar for two hours, looking at women, but not talking to them (or each other), before heading back to our respective unpleasant Balham flats, drunk and alone. Happy days!
But when I got to MacnabÂ’s tonight, it had gone. The building was still there, but it was dark and empty and the sign no longer said MacnabÂ’s. The sign was for an Indian restaurant. By the looks of things that restaurant was either some way away from opening, or had already opened and gone bust before IÂ’d even realised MacnabÂ’s had closed.
First GoblinÂ’s, now MacnabÂ’s, the glittering night-spots of my youth were disappearing. The symbolism was not lost on me.
Instead we went to the Duke of Devonshire and then on to a new posh Balham restaurant. “Lambert’s”. In my day such an establishment would not have been tolerated by the unpretentious folk of Balham. They would have burnt it to the ground, found Lambert and put him in the stocks and thrown his “Oxtail and clapshot” back in his astonished face.
But Balham has changed – there’s a Marks and Spencer’s Food Hall opening here for goodness sake – and Lambert’s was reasonably well patronised for a Tuesday night.
The food was delicious. The wine was excellent. The service was friendly. We had a lovely time.
It just wasnÂ’t like the old days at all.
You canÂ’t go back, Stef. You canÂ’t go back.
