Today an Elmore James LP is spinning away on one of the two turntables balanced atop the well worn and faded wooden bar. Dave the landlord is as always splitting his time between trying to serve people beer and fixing up the place (I swear I've never seen him in anything but paint spattered T-shirts). The clientele are as eclectic as always, the random musicians planning their rise to fame lounge on the sofas, the two lads no more than 19 trying to put the world to rights by the windows, whilst simultaneously making sure their carefully coiffured (yet deliberately messy) haircuts are in perfect order just in case someone they know looks in. The old guy in the leather jacket who looks like maybe he was a biker back in the sixties is at his normal place on a bar stool at the bar. A small cluster of good looking girls are down by the currently silent jukebox (more about this unique object later) and Mr and Mrs "Art" are chatting on the long bench near the front doors.