The Lorelei is a small Italian restaurant in Soho, London.
Trips to the Lorelei started when we were sixteen. Unable to enter pubs to drink, The Lorelei initially presented a warm location in which we could drink bottles of wine and enjoy the company of each other. From then, the experience grew into something far more encompassing.
The Lorelei is a remnant of 60s Soho. At the door are bags of flour piled on top of each other, inside, old creaky furniture, scratched glass plates and a large mural of a mermaid - the Lorelei herself - across one of the walls. The portions are not large, but the food is cheap and delicious. It seats under twenty and doesn't pay attention to reservations, which meant our trips were limited to around six people at most times. Three of us remained the core, with a number of other regulars. It glows with acceptance and amiability - something that isn't easily found for 16-year-olds getting drunk.
Lorelei trips became a figurehead of teenage life, often happening once or twice a week and never disappointing.
The meal is as you would expect, good food, plenty of wine and loud raucous conversation. By closing time we might have even provoked the other patrons into looking and sniggering, but no one seemed to mind.
Things to do after the meal, too, became an institution. Drinking on the south bank, watching the Thames. Singing and dancing Pogue Mahone all the way down the Northern Line to Tooting Broadway, sitting in my kitchen till 4am talking about philosophy and drinking cheap port bought down the road from the off license. And later once pubs opened their doors to us - Pints of London Pride in the Dog and Duck, Smoking cigarillos in the garden of Garlic and Shots, and squeezing into a table at the Coach and Horses. Memories and stories over the four years merge into one, and become impossible to recall. Like an old retold folk story, thoughts of The Lorelei were pushed into the realm of myth and legend.
We began to try and construct the ultimate Lorelei trip, which, after several sessions of discussion, was generally agreed upon:
Needless to say, we managed it. And it was good.
At the age of 20, and away at university, Lorelei has become the definition of returning home.
The Lorelei is now one of the last remaining historic restaurants in Soho. The couple who run it are heading fast toward retirement. The large Nandos around the corner is a sharp reminder of the day when we will turn up, bottles of wine in hand, and the doors will be shut and the lights off. And I guess at that point it's time to hit Soho square with a box of cigars and a bottle of champagne.
Still I feel privileged, in the sixty years or so this restaurant has been open, we are perhaps the last generation, group of friends, to live our lives through it. It isn't just a shabby little restaurant in Soho, or a pretentious statement against redevelopment and chain restaurants in London. The Lorelei is drinking wine, eating good food, talking with your friends, and feeling like you belong. The Lorelei is happiness.