Comparing The Rose and Yates is like comparing two drinking glasses. One drinking glass is your own, and the other drinking glass is smeared with someone else's cherry lipgloss. And every glass in Yates seems to be someone else's glass. The thing with Yates is, if you've got plans to go elsewhere afterwards, you'll always be in there just a little bit too early, so that it's not quite busy enough to be worth it. While you won't have to queue at the bar for as long, and avoid the more drunk of individuals in the early hours of the morning, really the main appeal factor of Bedford Yates is it's dance floor. And when you're too early, chances are it's just going to be you, a group of guys who are way too drunk for eleven o clock, and One Direction blaring in the background. It's just not fun enough, and you'd always rather go somewhere busier. (Oh, and if you plan to watch any big sports games in Yates, prepare to have your drink spilled all over you time and time again).
I love Stephen King and music festivals; I eat my toast upside down; I daydream about getting married probably a bit too much; and I wish every day for a pet sausage dog puppy (who never materialises – sob).
