THE TOILETS IN RUMOURS were down a side passage, ladies first, to be polite, then the gents at the end of the corridor. As we passed the ladies, we received a scathing look from a girl who was on her way out. I couldn’t remember ever seeing her before, but that didn’t mean much. So I shook my head and carried on towards our destination.
The walls in Rumours were covered, floor to ceiling, in album covers. No specific genre. A wide variety of artists from the sixties through to the eighties stared back at us as we made our way. Supporting pillars bore Viking posters, advertising a Danish lager that everybody had to try (but only once). The ceiling bore fishnet tablecloths. Black and ultra-violet lights set off the whole ensemble, making the faces on the wall smile and turn their heads as p
