The Cordwainer is Northampton’s most popular young people’s central pub/hotel now, a big double leveled building with two sizeable bars, 400 packed in at peak. It has a small elevated dance floor for the girls to jig around their handbags. It also has a sizeable beer garden with tables so if you like a fag then no problems. There are not that many bars, pubs and clubs that do have decent garden areas in Northampton town center these days.
Because it’s a Wetherspoons pub the beer is cheaper and you can get good deals on bottles and pints, three bottles of Becks for a fiver. It’s all about shifting shots and cocktails in younger peoples pubs these days. If you are tight like me and only two of you in your party then you can save a bottle for the next pub in your top pocket, and so a cheap round there too.
It starts to get busy around 11pm, the chucking out time of the 1970s and 80s now the time people start to come out. The bar is slightly tall so a lean in although fully staffed on both levels and so not a long wait. The clientele is from all social classes although Northampton an upper working-class town so not many studenty types there. It’s not a rough place and very much about young men eyeing up pretty girls although the music’s loud enough to keep you buying and not flirting.
In the day time it’s a food pub and no such queuing. The food is basic and very English, a slice of gammon with pineapple here or fish and chips there… that type of thing. The clientele are much older and fussier in the day time. But you can get free Wifi on the Cloud there so good for a work time beer at lunch.
Now, as this is a mostly young people’s bar with loud music and lots of pretty girls the owners want to maintain that client base and so older and bigger ones may not get pass the bouncers at those peak party hours. In the summer they open up the garden and so the 30 plus tend to go outside and so no real image issue there and so you can get in. But last week me and my brother (both comfortably over 30) were turned away by the goons on the door for wearing fleeces. We were wearing smart shoes and shirts but with rain around some protection. But the match stick chewing thugs said no and not up for debating it, sad when you have money to spend in your home town you have lived in for 40-years and shoved away by two goons from Eastern Europe. One of them actually had those tight leather gloves you see in gangster movies, ready to crack some heads. The hotel side of things is a few rooms upstairs for sales reps, not quite nights sleep by any means.