Okay, it was frustrating when it first happened but now it’s really gone beyond a joke.
I am of course talking about the closing of the Newtown Hotel and what seems the neverending hope that it will not only open some time in the next 100 years, but will open as a GLBT venue once again.
Don’t get me wrong, I am saving a ridiculous amount of money by not having a full-time GLBT venue in the inner west, but I really miss having my local.
I miss knowing I can walk down the road with a high likelihood I’ll run into one of my mates.
I miss being able to catch up over a drink without a bunch of bikers leering at us.
But for now I wait. The hotel currently gives off the impression of a wrapped up Christmas present. Each day I walk by and it seems to tease me with its black plastic covering the windows, and the lack of coming soon signs indicating they actually plan to reopen makes me give a pitiful little sigh every time.
I think the biggest problem is that this little dive wasn’t just a pub to us. It was a meeting place, a home away from home, a pretty good place to meet relaxed and unpretentious people and a great mid-week option.
It really wouldn’t be as much of a problem if the Imperial had reopened after what is promising to be the biggest renovation at a gay and lesbian venue in years.
I guess I’m also a bit jealous that Oxford St seems to be getting knocked back into shape with the help of some very industrious new proprietors, but Newtown seems to be falling behind.
So what to do? What can we do except sit back and hope that we get our identity back in our little suburb?
Not that a building can be classed as our identity, but it was the people that building housed, the vibe it housed and the sense of belonging it housed.
If the owners of this building are by any chance reading this, please, I’m begging you to give us our venue back and I can guarantee, if you can replicate the same principles as the old Newtown Hotel had, you will have a very loyal clientele on your hands.