I’ve changed from fiction to fact this week. I hope you don’t mind! It’s based on some notes I made when I gave up my own village pub, The Brewers Arms several years ago.
I’ll miss this place and its characters.
I served farmers, local crafts folk, tradesmen and a retired bank robber. A lord and lady, and a couple of faded celebs too. All ages. Some not old enough to be drinking, others old enough to know when to stop – but didn’t.
Sing-song Sid would suddenly start warbling and everyone joined in. When Gladys the Guzzler went to the toilet, she’d drop her false teeth in her Guinness. “Drink this and they’ll bite your bloody nose off” she would shout. People would dance between the tables; on the tables even!
I remember a dart landing in someone’s burger, our resident mouse running along the bar, and my dog Daisy depositing something very unsavoury on the floor of the packed restaurant bar! I recall riotous after-hours lock-ins, screeching karaoke divas and quiz nights with Google cheats!
Now, standing alone in this empty bar I still hear laughter, raucous singing, and the crackling log fire. I smell pub-grub, beer and Smooth Stan’s overpowering aftershave!
As I turn the key and walk away for the final time I take with me nothing but happy memories. What more could I wish for?
Thanks to Donna for hosting. The picture is from the Morguefile photo collection.