The Cali
Once a spit 'n' sawdust sort of pub, The Cal was an open door to all and sundry and served breakfasts greasier than Peter Stringfellow. Inside, I was once approached by someone selling air–freshener who offered to lend me the money to buy it. That was shortly after Che Guevara came round selling books of his poetry. As incongruous as John Prescott in Diesel clothes –the cool inhabitants of Catharine St have moved in for a makeover. Now you can expect to find a young arty crowd, hip music and DJs. Free web access on two computers and free coffee refills all make this pub well worth a visit.


