They also live in multi million quid houses, but have to use a laundrette as they lack washing machines. I agree it’s not a realistic depiction of this frankly hideous East End I lived in in the late 80s. We didn’t even have chairs, or a floor, to scrape them on. Just Dad’s fists for dinner again
That were luxury
Admittedly, we were lucky to have a Dad that had fists.
Lucky to have a dad
Currently opening some very late delivered post on a Sunday bank holiday, turns out I was adopted according to my DNA test to see if I was related to myself. A great service by privatised Royal Mail that completely emotionally destroys EVERY aspect my life, I hope you feel 😍 about your comment
Great time to go to the pub! 🍻
the Vic ?
The Dagmar, surely?
haven’t seen it for about 20 years. surely Albert Square aint big enough for two pubs?
“This square ain’t big enough for the both of us” sang Sparks. But you’re right, it wasn’t. The Dagmar was a wine bar based around the corner. I only know this as a superb old friends wife’s middle name is Dagmar and she STILL refers to it when drunk, along with its rapist landlord Wilmott-Brown.