The Camden Bar

July 23, 2014

The Camden Bar, Poole, Bournemouth BH14 0ES

Camden Town is the crazy, rock and roll, dog end of London that’s so filthy, it tried to burn itself down, twice. But we love it anyway just like the child that you never wanted.

We heard that the love for Camden Town had spread further down south, to Bournemouth. A family, went for a drinks in Camden, and birthed the idea to bring the grungey vibe home with them. That family has now since opened The Camden Bar in Ashley Cross.

The Ashley Cross area reminded me of  Angel, Islington and the bar was perched right on the high street. The Carouser gang rocked up on bikes with our tattoos and crazy coloured hair/skinheads on show. The staff were more than welcoming despite this, and invited us to sit down on a table of our choice.20140723-212646-77206782.jpg

The place was immaculate and was almost reminiscent of a coffee shop. It lacked that Camden scum. Bournemouth in itself is a lot cleaner than the Don so maybe this was  just a Bournemoth stylee interpretation of the capital. They even had a lending library that customers could come and swap books for ones other people have left. This would never go down well in the Camden I know. The books would end up in the trolley of a batty old lady called Christine who roams the streets, trying to intice drunks to do the last thing they could manage in a state of intoxication -read.

It’s horrible to be reminded that London really is an anxious untrustworthy place but the Camden Bar is what it should be like in the city. I didn’t feel like some dodgey magician was gonna rock up and make my phone disappear. It felt nice to relax.

The cocktails on their specials chalkboard consisted of the essentials and all mixed with premium spirits. The Espresso Martini was smooth, strong with just the right amount of kick to wake you up after trolling up and down the hills of Bournemouth. Ginger Mexican was a winning choice. Fruity, with a heavy fizz that almost tasted like sherbet.


A lot of bottles behind the bar were recognisable. We played a game of guess the bottle and realised I had an unatural flare for spotting all the alcohol brands considering I’m supposed to be wearing the glasses that I keep in a drawer at home.20140723-212644-77204161.jpg

The walls were lined with random objects that seem to have been weathered. A bicycle was pinned to the wall, and wrapped in fairy lights. Our bikes whimpered outside in fear as we considered doing the same to them. Some of the decoration was given in by customers too, and the art work was by local art students and comissioned for non-profit.

This gave such a huge sense of community that I envied, for I don’t even know my own neighbour’s name.

But I knew the name of the man who surveyed us eating. A painting of Morrisey watched us as we dined and drank which was slightly arousing. We ate under his watchful eye, the most hearty lunch fit for Camden Kings. Burgers ripped from the specials menu, to crumbling in your mouth. The veg dog; so full of flavour that even a meat eater wouldn’t turn down. It was all cooked to sheer perfection and I couldn’t write a bad note about it.

Although this bar didn’t resemble Camden entirely, it should definitely a place to visit when heading down south. With open mic nights and the best indie music, it’s just like home away from home.


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