Photo by Pavel Danilyuk
Warm nights do something to this city. Streets feel wider. Music leaks from doorways. Everyone walks a little slower—not because they’re tired, but because they’re not in a hurry to get anywhere. You’re not pub-crawling exactly, but you’re definitely out to chase the night. Call it a fun-crawl. A loose loop around Brum with nothing on your checklist but a good time.
Gambling, Games, and a Bit of Chaos
The route changes depending on who you’re with. Maybe you start in Digbeth, maybe near the Cathedral, where the bars glow golden through stained glass. Someone’s late. Someone’s already tipsy. The night unfolds as it wants. Someone always wants to hit a loud place. Someone else wants somewhere dark with decent gin. You float between the two.
Eventually, someone brings up gambling. Usually half a joke. Maybe they lost a fiver last weekend. Maybe they hit a decent win. Nobody’s looking for tuxedos or bouncers. Someone pulls out their phone and scrolls through a few non-Gamstop casino sites while waiting for their pint. It’s more of a vibe than a plan—one quick game while the group finishes their drinks. It’s a pause in the evening, a quick thrill between places.
You might even forget they were playing until someone shouts about doubling twenty quid on a lucky spin.
Rooftops, Balconies, and Back Gardens That Feel Like Clubs
You keep walking. Rooftop spots hit different in summer. You’re leaning on railings, talking about nothing, pretending you’re more philosophical than usual because of the view. The Button Factory is one of those places where it feels like everyone’s in on something cool but no one’s bragging. The lighting’s soft. The crowd’s mixed. The DJ doesn’t shout. It works.
Sky By The Water is fancier, but somehow still chill. Up high, with the lights from the NEC in the distance, you forget you’re in the Midlands. It could be anywhere—until someone says something very Brummie and the illusion breaks.
Elsewhere in the city, people host backyard raves. You hear them before you see them. Someone’s cousin brought speakers. There’s always one guy who thinks he’s a bouncer just because he’s wearing black. You hover by the fence. Maybe you get waved in.
Games That Don’t Need a Console
For pure nostalgia, Tilt and NQ64 do it right. Purple lighting, sticky floors, buttons that sound like childhood. You find Time Crisis in the corner. Someone yells across the room because they’ve found Dance Dance Revolution. It’s chaotic in the best way. Nobody’s cool in an arcade. That’s the point.
But sometimes the best games aren’t inside. There’s always one mate who turns everything into a competition. Who can name the worst street art pun? Who remembers the layout of the old Snobs before they moved? Who still knows all the lyrics to a song you haven’t heard since Year 11?
The prize is pride, and maybe chips later.
Soundtrack of the Streets
Brum’s noise shifts as the night rolls on. Early evening is clinking glasses and taxis dropping people off. Later, it’s bass thumps, laughter in alleys, buskers near the Bullring playing covers louder than they should. If you’re near Victoria Square, you’ll hear conversations echo off stone. If you’re further down by the Custard Factory, it’s more about the crowd buzz, the blend of voices, the kick drum leaking from open doors.
And even if you’re not at a venue, the soundtrack finds you. Cars roll by with windows down, always with someone showing off their playlist. Some of it’s brilliant. Some of it’s so bad it loops back around to iconic.
Food That’s Hotter Than the Air
The later it gets, the better the food smells. You catch whiffs of it from across streets—grilled kebab, chicken wings, pizza slices folding under their own weight. It’s not classy, and that’s the beauty of it.
Digbeth Dining Club is the obvious pick if it’s open. Always a good mix. But if it’s late-late, you go rogue. You follow your nose or follow the one mate who swears they know “this little place that’s way better than it looks.” They’re usually right.
Ladypool Road is unbeatable after midnight. You walk down it with curry on your mind and nothing in your stomach. The menus are long. The portions are silly. You can’t finish it all, and you still try.
One More Stop, Then Maybe Another
No one wants to be the first to call it. “Let’s just walk this way and see what’s open” becomes the group mantra. You might end up at The Sunflower or Subside. You might walk past five places and double back to one. The night writes its own map, and you just follow.
Somewhere along the way, someone gets pulled into a quiet conversation on a stoop. Someone else takes a blurry photo of a mural that’ll never get posted. You all know the night’s winding down, but nobody says it yet.
You walk a bit more. One more drink turns into sharing a bottle on the canal steps. Someone checks the time, not because they need to, but just to laugh at how late it is.