Forgive me the wordplay, but I recently ‘checked in’ to Liverpool’s Motel bar for a quiet, early evening pint, with my best girl.
Sequestered away in its own hidden corner of Fleet Street, with only a humbly proportioned neon-sign (Sadly, not yet flickering from constant illumination, in that romantically sinister sort-of-way) duo-syllabically declaring this establishment as ‘Motel’ it’s easily missed.
I waltzed in to find the place was empty and took advantage of the vacancy to order a drink “two pints of lager please”. Well, here was my first and really only issue with Motel; they don’t serve pints. Now to some people this is potentially a deal-breaker, but the barman was so polite in his explanation, without displaying the faintest indication of superiority, I had no choice but to acquiesce the ‘schooner’.
For those of you unfamiliar, a schooner is three quarters of a pint and in motel, costs somewhere in the area of three pounds each. Not the terrible culture shock I make it out to be, but after George Osborne’s recent budget announcement, declaring booze to be one of few luxuries to go down in price, I don’t like the idea of the ale being downsized in volume too. It reminded me of how cigarettes have been reduced to packs of nineteen, yet largely remained the same price. Still this is an establishment that rewards the more adventurous drinkers, with a reasonably-priced cocktails menu, beginning at £7.00 and offering all the staples; Sweet shop sour, grasshopper et al.
With that issue out of the way however, I sat down with my schooner and drank in the eclectic decor. Featuring a large projected image of jack Nicholson’s character from The Shining and more neon signs. One of which ominously reads “Sleep is the baby mama of death” This may be, but it has yet to deter me from getting MY eight hours.
There is definitely a hipster-feel to motel but it benefits, rather than suffers for this, mainly because of the service. The staff make you feel welcome rather than excluded and the atmosphere reeks of a cinematic, dive-bar chic. Hell! if this place actually had rooms to rent, I’d probably be living there.