Ronnies Local (069) - Toronto

 It's been a minute since I've turned any of the scribbles from my journal into something that's semi worthy of reading by the general populous. Lately I’ve been drowning in work, mostly dealing with truculent bastards on a daily basis and to say it’s emotionally taxing, would be a gross understatement. The self diagnosed seasonal depression hits hard this time of year too, it’s constantly cold and dark by 5pm leaving me feeling lonelier than Kunta Kinte at a klan rally. Nevertheless, with the advent of increased cyclists on the road and the chirping of birds in the trees, it can only mean one thing; spring has finally sprung and I couldn't be fucking happier. Since spring has sprung and the days are finally above zero more consistently, I thought I'd wipe the cobwebs off my biro and get back into the swing of things because in a few short weeks I’ll be scanning my first of many boarding passes for the year and heading outta town.

Much like last year, this year is shaping up to be another one filled with more airports to pass through and Airbnb's to check into. Theres something I deeply adore about being somewhere new for the first time, I don't know whether it's the feeling of the unknown, not being able to speak the language fluently, or wondering if you're in a bad part of town. Whatever it is, it's a feeling you only get to experience once when you're somewhere new. It's similar to hearing the drums kick off in "In The Air Tonight" or reading a new book. It's become a feeling that I'm very comfortable with and perhaps even chase like smoker itching to light their next Marlboro Red. 

Prior to jetting off to scuba dive and strum some first position cords around the world, I'm home for a little longer and now that the weather outside is conditional to that of normal human activity, I'm back to my weekend routine of bombing around Toronto, catching Jays games and going to shows. Somewhat unsuspectingly tucked away in the middle of this concrete chasm and just off the main drag of Kensington Market is good ol' Ronnies Local (069). Synonymous with skids, skaters and punks, this epic little cash only dive bar is perfect for a Sunday funday patio session. Ronnies isn't flashy and isn't trying to be something it's not, it’s just a simple dive bar, the tunes are good, the drinks are cold and the barmaids are easy on the eyes. Frankly what more could you ask for? Perhaps a pinball machine, but maybe I'm just being greedy.

For anyone reading this bollocks outside of Toronto, Kensington Market is similar to Camden or Newtown, full of moody goods, cheap knock offs and excellent restaurants. Theres a certain vibe in these parts of towns throughout the world that seem to transcend class and social status, everyones just here to listen to street performers and order some tacos, it's kind of beautiful in many ways. Much like the eclectic decor of the rest of Kensington, Ronnies is garnished in your standard dive bar decor of graffiti, band stickers, beer signs, and spent candle wax from years of lighting up a night of slurred words and presumably profound conversations.

I’m not sure who Ronnie is, or if he even exists, I’m happy to live with the cliffhanger of mystery I’ve created for myself, but whoever he may be, he’s figured this spot out perfectly. Not forgetting of course if you're keen for a game of Snake & Ladders or a cheeky game of Backgammon they've got ya covered too. Nice touch Ronnie. 

Take a ciggy, leave a ciggy.

6/6.