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Salient. Victoria University of Wellington Students' Newspaper. Volume 32, No. 18. July 30, 1969

Noshingrog

Noshingrog

A guide to eating and drinking in Wellington

For those gentlemen of the Commerce and Law Faculties who seem to take a perverse delight in stranging themselves with Nelson College neckwear, here is a surprise for you. I've "discovered" a new bar which should be just your style. It's the Club Bar of the Cambridge Hotel, which is located oddly enough in Cambridge Terrace. The decor is tastefully bland with strategically placed montages of sports photos and scattered sports cartooons and whimsy. The Royal Tavern could perhaps take note of how this type of bar should be decorated.

There is only export beer on tap, but it has a nice sharp taste, and for gentlemen of your means you should not ask for anything but export in any case.

One word of warning. Presumably you will be taking with you your Marsden girlfriend. She will have to be 21. There is this delightful old barman who fixes every female with a beady eye and demands to see proof of age. Some quite incredible scenes ensue.

Above all, this bar has atmosphere. Four points.

* * * *

The things I do in the interests of my readers. On Sunday I arrived at my girlfriend's place at what I thought was the perfect hour to secure an invitation for dinner. Unfortunately, no such invitation was forthcoming, and with stomach accompaniment I wended my way into the big city. Looking back I still can't see what made me do it, but suddenly I found myself in a queue of greasy transistorised molls from Naenae at the Lambton Quay Golden Chips.

After casually scanning the menu, which read: "Sorry, no sandwiches" and "No burgers", and the cigarette machine ("out of order"), I settled for a hot dog and chips. These were speedily cooked and frantically wrapped up. I proceeded down the Quay, and inspected my purchases. Now I don't pretend to be a Golden Chips ingenué. I have (in a very drunken state) eaten there before. And I know that sausage cost seven cents. My hot dog consisted of a sausage with a stick poked into one end, and a skerrick of tomato sauce lying furtively in one corner of the bag. 10 cents. So I'm a sucker. But the chips were without doubt the most sodden, revolting result of man's endeavour to cook the humble potato that I have ever experienced. One point. They must have something, or they would have gone out of business long ago.

* * * *

For lemar folk, a hamburger place. The Gold Star Hamburger Bar in Willis Street not only provides good and cheap takeaway foods, but has the most delightful people running it. They know; and it's good. Two point or four points, depending.

* * * *

Next week, read all about how I returned to the Royal Tavern and had to be carried out in a strait-jacket.