Lene Lovich was underdressed again....

It was tuesday morning, about 11am.

I just stood on the pavement and peeked in.

The owner of Spiders Night Club had answered my heavy handed knock  with a preliminary glance through the small glazed pane in the upper part of the stout door. 'Man in a suit on the doorstep of a Club, and out of hours, pretty harmless' he must have thought, 'Man in a suit on the doorstep of Spiders out of hours-pretty cool' I thought back.

In true secret society speakeasy style the door swung open .

I was ready with a witty one liner password but stumbled on its delivery. "Hello, I'm here to collect my daughters jacket and my other daughters boyfriends cardigan" I said with the intended one liner now but a distant passing thought. It would come back to me later and out of context.

The request was acknowledged and the two items of clothes were handed over.

I could not help but comment that I had not been in Spiders since my sisters 16th birthday party in 1980.

From my kerbside viewpoint I had obviously not missed much by way of redecoration or refurbishment in the 3 decades since my one and only admittance but that was somehow reassuring and timeless.

The club had outlived Romeo and Juliets, outlasted Tiffany's, outshone the Silhouette Club and blasted Heaven and Hell out of existence.

Why?

Because at Spiders there has never been any pretention or competitive dressing up, no attempts at one-upmanship or wearing a DJ out of context, no latest fashions and certainly never any glitter or glam.

Spiders was true entertainment for those not allowed to turn up the speakers too high at home or wear black other than to something formal or terminal.

Metal, Rock, Punk, Indie and Motown are best heard very,very loud and in an alcoholic haze only possible through the sensible pricing of beer and spirits to match the budgets of students and those not yet in full employment.

Spiders was a destination and not a bad night out afterthought.

It is well out of the main city circuit of pubs and clubs. In fact you would be worried if you fell in with a group heading for the venue as they would seemingly be on their way home and not to continue the revelries. The industrial surroundings are bleak and, after 7pm, deserted so no consideration is required for the neighbours. Another distinct positive for the longevity of the club.

So here's to one of Hull's finest institutions, fondly remembered by multiple generations as a genuine place to enjoy yourself. I was glad that I had been asked to collect the forgotten belongings and see inside the secret world of Spiders.