So I finally made it to 28 York Place after hearing whispers about it for months. Honestly? Almost skipped it because no one gives real info about this spot. Grabbed my notebook and camera, didn’t even check the weather – huge mistake.
The Journey There
Hopped on the Tube sweating bullets because turns out it was 30 degrees out. Got off at Piccadilly Circus, thinking it’d be a quick walk. Nope. Wandered around for 20 minutes like a lost pigeon because Google Maps kept glitching near those narrow alleys.
First Impressions
Almost walked right past the entrance – just a tiny black door squeezed between a pharmacy and some fancy biscuit shop. Pushed it open and bam! Stairs straight to basement level. Felt sketchy as hell until I saw the neon sign flickering “Rock Room” downstairs.
What Actually Went Down
Paid £10 cash at the door (they don’t take cards – bring bills!). Place smelled like old vinyl records and cheap beer. Walls covered in band stickers piled five layers thick. The owner, this tattooed dude named Mick, waved me toward a wobbly stool at the bar. Chugged watery lager while he ranted about:
- Never coming before 9 PM (“dead zone hours”)
- Cash-only rule screwing over tourists
- Thursday punk nights getting “too bloody rowdy”
The Critical Stuff No One Tells You
Saw three groups get turned away because they didn’t know these things:
- No photos allowed after 10 PM – Mick will shout at you
- Gig timings are lies – bands start an hour late minimum
- Toilets are upstairs behind a fake bookshelf (look for the cracked Hemingway spine)
Bailed around midnight when some bloke started playing Wonderwall on repeat. Would I go back? Yeah, but only with mates on Thursdays – and cramming £20 notes in my socks first. These things? They make or break your night at York Place. Skip ’em and you’ll be that sad tourist sulking outside the biscuit shop.
