My daily walk takes me in front of what is left of the Halikarnas Disco. There was a lot public grief when the owner announced that it would not be opening this year (the landowners have long been trying to get their building back) but there were no tears from me. I can't count the number of nights, wide awake at 3 am, I imagined myself at the controls of a massive wrecking ball, knocking the source of the unbearable din to the ground. So the above picture is the culmination of a 3 decade old fantasy. It wasn't just that the music was loud and went on until the early hours of the morning when I had to get up early for work, it was the incessant bass turned up so loud that it penetrated walls and worked its way into your very cells - my diaphragm jumped to the cords chosen by the DJ, not my own lungs. I should really thank this disco - it was a major factor in us deciding to move out into the countryside in 1991 - no longer being able to put up with the sleep disruption.
|1983 - an after-work drink in the quiet Halikarnas days. I know it is after work because I am in my Yachtours gear.|
I've just looked up the Halikarnas Disco's Trip Adviser reviews for the past few years and they are pretty evenly split between, to paraphrase, 'absolutely amazing experience' and 'bloody awful rip off. ' Before it 'blinged out' and started looking like an overdecorated wedding cake, it was a pleasant venue; a relaxing place to have a drink looking out over the castle and a venue for fashion shows - I even played ping pong there (how hip is that - I really knew how to have a good time). In 2007, on a holiday from England, my then 15 year old daughter insisted on a visit to the disco and - because we all do daft things on holiday - we paid a large sum of money for entry and a warm beer. She never wanted to go back again.