Another extremely poor shot grabbed on the camera phone as I went in. I almost hesitate to mention this place. It's so wonderful. In Villiers Street the institution which since the 1890s has been Gordon's Wine bar never fails to provide a haven for the weary ad man. An unprepossessing entrance takes you down into, well, a cellar, or series of them. In some parts it's barely posssible to stand upright - and that's before you've imbibed. It's quite gloomy down there as indeed it should be with candles providing much of the illumination, and the flaking walls carry an eclectic mix of printed ephemera - a brave Victorian lithograph of some Boer War action here, or an old Music Hall poster there. You come here to drink wine or it's fortified cousins, sherry or port. Nothing else. The bottles are stacked behind the bar in rank after gorgeous rank and the soft squeak and 'pop' of corks being drawn is the only musical accompaniment to the jolly badinage of the disparate clientele. A perfect spot for assignations, couples who shouldn't be, huddle at rickety tables their faces desperately longing, candlelit in a sad chiaroscuro. Tragic and romantic. Merry businessmen of the camel coat and velvet collar kind get stuck into port and talk of National Hunt Racing and the 'little filly ' who's Robert's new secretary. Tourists sit in wonder and can't quite believe where it is they are - it's so far removed from the London of gloss and glitter. It's rumoured that 'operatives' of HM government frequent the place...but how could we tell if they did? If you've had a good lunch somewhere in Town I recommend that you skip the dessert and make for Gordon's and enjoy a glass or two of Port and a plate of Stilton. Cool in Summer, warm in Winter, Gordon's is the perfect place to waste your time.
