The Filtnib's Progress

I'm getting very fond of Dalston, despite the unexpected opening of a shop called 'Hot Nuts' just a few moments from our front door (I can't really blame them for calling it that as it sells nothing but hot nuts, but it does sound a bit odd).
The most recent local charm to win my affections is a small underground music venue. Underground as in a cellar, aswell as vaguely hidden. Yes, last week, after reading this Songkick.com blog post, I finally got round to visiting Bardens Boudoir. About time too, as it's only a stone's throw from our flat, nestling between grubby late-night grocery stores and a pub on Stoke Newington Road. When I told my friend Ben where I was going, he raised his eyebrows, and it may be worth noting that if the use of the word boudoir had correlated to any burlesque-style activity - as it sometimes does at the venue - then I would be staying away (I'm with Ariel Levy when it comes to raunch culture).
But on Tuesday we were there to see the gentle folky singer/songwriter Andy Jackson a.k.a House of Brothers and apart from the fact that his songs were "slightly samey" (in the words of M-A) his was an enjoyable performance and all-in-all, one that added to my general feeling of happy-to-be-alive-ness, especially alive in Dalston, and so near such a cosy venue with such inspired decor. Bardens' highlight in my eyes is its little booths, all of which are wallpapered differently. Music Week recently reviewed the place and Time Out say they list it "begrudgingly" since they don't want everyone to know about it. I'm glad we've found it anyway and await future nights (and the happy knowledge that I can walk home easy as pie) with bated breath.