Glow Lounge

6 Cavendish Parade, Clapham Common Southside SW4 9DW

Clapham South’s Glow Lounge is a little bit psycho. It cant make up its mind about what it really wants to be. See, it walks like a café – frothing coffees, purchaseable artwork, bare brick walls, serious chin-strokey conversations – but at the same time, it walks like a bar – frothing beers, purchaseable escapism, bare naked smiles, serious belly laughter.

Four years ago, when still in its infancy, Glow was but a mere coffeehouse. Now, it’s done gone grown’d up and struts around like it owns the place. Some know-nothing bureaucrats recently tried to imply it was a nuisance to society with its loud noises and boozy whims, but they ended up being forced to change their minds and give it an extension on the license. Silly bureaucrats.

Only a frizbee-throw away from the edge of Common, and literal next-door neighbour to the sterile Gigulum, Glow Lounge does for Clapham what Home & Away did for the 90s – turned it all Aussie: rock is the only kind of music; everyone looks like Xavier Rudd or those girls from the Sheila’s Wheels ads; there’s neat piles of fresh TNTs everywhere; Cherry Ripes, Twisties and Burger Rings are on the menu; and there’s an all-year-round jandals and boardies dress code (apparently).

Even the refreshments are Aussie. Bottled varieties such as Coopers Sparkling Ale and James Boag from ‘Tazzy’ are on call, or there’s always the Aussie draught alternatives – Stello, Staro, Guinno and Beckso. For those not inclined towards hops and yeast, you could try your hand at an Aussie Pash, which is much like a normal pash, only with more raspberry Redskin-infused vodka and less tongue.

The Aussie hospitality ethos is adopted throughout. On Mondays and Tuesdays, rather than stay in with your TV dinner and TV partner, you could be out playing a delightful game of ‘Toss The Boss’ at Glow Lounge. Depending on where you’re originally from, a game of ‘Toss The Boss’ can mean a variety of different things. For some, it’s an automatic job promotion technique. For others, it’s a simply and enjoyable coin-related method of seeing who pays for the round you just ordered – you or the bar lady.

Going to Glow Lounge by yourself is not actively encouraged, although if you do expect to be pulled into a conversation with total strangers. The loners privilege is usually only allocated to students, freelancers and benefit blaggers needing to use the free wifi. However, even they have limited scope as it states quite clearly on a chalkboard above the bar that the t’internet webthingie is only available up until 6.30pm, after which time it then becomes a “work-free zone”. So don’t be squandering your time working when you’re obligated to use your free time for enjoyment purposes. You have been warned.

The 1970s retro leather décor aesthics of Glow give it an air of “G’day mate, how ya ga’in, take a load off”. Whilst Pimms drinkers and chain smokers will be shouting “By Crikey” when they set eyes upon the full frontal action.

Food-wise there’s….buurggerrr…..a fairly decent variety of homemade options on offer such as the……buuuuurrgggggerrrrr cous cous fritters, the…buuuuurrgggggerrrrr……Mexican Three Bean Wraps, the…buuuuurrgggggerrrrr….Lebanese mezze (with the World’s saltiest halloumi) or the…buuuuurrgggggerrrrr….brownies. And oh, apparently the burgers aren’t too shabby, either. Light and airy, they are like the Aero of the burger world. And the homemade cinnamon chutney accompanying it is proper bonza.

Breakfasts are also distinctly antipodean: Spirulina; all manner of fresh you-little-ripper smoothies and juices; Vegemite, the Shane Warne of toast companions (if you don’t know who Shane Warne is, Glow Lounge is not for you); and, probably most importantly, the Flat White. There is the breakfeast option of the Full Monty but that just wouldn’t be cricket now, would it?

The Atmos is one of approachable conviviality. A she-turntablist - Electric Beat Consignment - offers a monthly mashup for the ravers and, for the sports fans, there is a plasma screen mounted on the wall (which only operates when there is rugby showing, which is a godsend because those darn things can be awfully distracting when you’re trying to concentrate on a conversation about the surfing the Mediterraean but Rihanna keeps waving her umbrella around all over the screen).

Recommended: as a one-stop shop. Go there in the morning to read the paper, best intentions still intact, then get chatting to the bar staff and think “what the hell, I’ll stay for a pint, it’s after midday anyway”. Eight hours later, you’re dancing in the aisles. Next morning, you return to the scene of the crime for a flat white and your best intentions are sluggishly sulking behind you, having difficulty keeping up.

Avoid: if you still think The Walkabout is heaps fun.