Sugar and plastic balls

 

Dear Inquisitive Stranger,

In 1815, the Duke of Wellington led red coat troops to victory against the French at the Battle of Waterloo. As was the custom of the age, the military leader went to battle on horseback and for this commander, no horse was more reliable than the chestnut stallion, Copenhagen.

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For 17 hours, Wellington gave command from the saddle and when the campaign was won, the statesman dismounted to pat his steed’s flank, causing Copenhagen to discharged a kick which narrowly missed his governor’s head. The horse almost accomplished what the French had failed to achieve.

Despite this awkward blip in the relationship, Copenhagen continued to be the Duke’s favourite mount throughout the 19th century British assault on France. Consequential showboating at ceremonial parades elevated the status of both horse and his rider throughout the United Kingdom, however he later enjoyed a quiet retirement from pomp and circumstance at Wellington’s stately home.

Copenhagen lived to the grand old age of 28 as a happy pensioner “kissing hands and eating apples with all possible grace”. He died on 12th February 1836, reportedly from over-indulging a sweet-tooth with an extravagance of bath buns, chocolate creams and sponge dainties.

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An alternative story is that the horse slipped out of his retirement home for a sugar spree jolly at ‘Urban Space’. Upon sipping one of the aggressively sweet cocktails, he fell over dead after getting zapped by every syrupy flavour in existence. Or perhaps it was the exhaustively hyper music charged to the beat of a taurine and caffeine energy drink what done ‘im in.

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Alcohol at ‘Urban Space’ is served trapped inside birdcages or plastic bags perched in shopping trolleys, too saccharine to be unaccompanied in standard glass fare. Indeed, cocktails are so potently sickly, a fructose-dusted sweetness wafts in caramel waves across the cavernous arena.

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Charged on a sugar-high, gladiators take arms in the ball pool pit before swiftly getting distracted by posting their skirmish on Instagram. Certainly an impressive storming to the senses, this bar could double as the set of a DIY home improvement show. This week’s theme: brassy.

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Weak swimmers need not fear, a lifeguard is on duty.

With the brash bravado of a transvestite lip syncing for their life, ‘Urban Space’ is all the better for its unashamed naffness. It is an explosion of disco balls, neon inflatables, glitter curtains and shiny wall hangings. Elton called. He wants his scatter cushions back.

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Quietly sat metres from our flashy friend sits ‘Urban Source’. Like all boisterous neighbour stories, there requires 2 contrasting protagonists; the rowdy crowd and the chilled clan. With such differing personalities, the only thing ‘Urban Space’ and ‘Urban Source’ share is 50% of the name. The latter is your standard hipster warehouse filled with Macbooks and flannel shirts.

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A recipe for a neighbourhood brouhaha?

Not so much. They may invite a different society along for the ride but there is no animosity here.

If only the British and French could have made such good neighbours back in the day.

Copenhagen would have been out of a job and getting happily fat on cream buns.

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Peace, love and cha cha cha.

Don’t behave!

Samantha

Urban Space – shiny disco balls

Urban Source – totes counter-culture, it’s legit.

301-16 Seongsu 2(i)-ga 3(sam)-dong, Seongdong-gu

Seongsu station, Line 2, Exit 4

Monday – Sunday: 15:00 – 00:00

 

Hi Stranger. I left this letter among the shiny disco balls for an adventurer to find in ‘Urban Space’.

Perhaps you are that person? Frolicking in plastic balls, a hand written letter was the last item you expected to lay you hands on, but you did. I hope it was a nice surprise.

Perhaps you discovered this blog, rather than a letter on colourful paper in a ball pit.

Whoever you are, I hope you get in touch with your thoughts. I love to hear from you.

With sunshine and gladness,

Samantha

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