I had a pretty good day at the seaside -

Train down to Dover at 10.30 (nearly screwed trying to buy Grauniad but gave up and went to platform as train came) and did a circuit of Hooked on Books (three books at 50p; wanted to buy a couple of Tennants and a Rebus but £2.99) and the chairity shops. Didn't get to the outlet and the size of the queue ( Read more... )

I was in two minds about staying in the pub last night - but I was having a good time even if the prices have gone up. I met someone from my old stomping grounds (I should have recognised the accent) who talked about Gunthorpe Bridge - a place I haven't thought of for a couple of decades - and solved a couple of clues on the cryptic crossword. I ( Read more... )

There used to be someone who drank in my boozer called John the Fence. This kept him separate from John the Builder, whose brother was Bob the Builder. He used to go on at great length about a fence panel being six foot rather than 180cm and was generally very interesting indeed. He was also a Low Talker ((C) Seinfeld), which meant you often had to ( Read more... )

I have what appears to be known as an unproductive cough. I would have thought that that any cough would be unproductive, as it gets in the way and is pretty unpleasant, but then ( cut for potential TMI )

It's 8.30, it's pissing it down and I'm about to trudge with holey shoes to pay thirty-five quid to drink in my local.

Heigho.

Sounds too windy to risk an umbrella.

Happy new year folks

I dragged myself out of bed sometime during Desert Island Discs (how come if he's the most successful living composer, I've never heard of him? And what about McCartney?), may have had a bath, and wandered down to the Doves to see G, who was working a Barney and hasn't been at the Doves for weeks. N was there already, looking a little worse for ( Read more... )

60,000 to go. Oh, and before I forget. The Doves gets more and more surreal. Someone gave Superchef a dog biscuit last night. We're not sure why, but I think it meant he'd won. The doner, that is, not Superchef.

A dog biscuit.

I have witnesses, it wasn't a drunken hallucination.

You can't make this stuff up.

A newly recovered Uncle Pete came into the bar last night and asked about N. I mentioned to Pete that I was about to text N when ( Read more... )

One of the roles of barman (or barmaid, but my local is rarely staffed by a woman) is to be father confessor, listener and confidente. They are supposed to stand there, head cocked to one side, polishing a glass, occasionally dispensing nuggets of meaty wisdom ( Read more... )

I think there's something in the water at the moment.

Let's, for the sake of a label, call him Travis, although that's not his name. He was looking glum the other day, and my first assumption was that he had split up from his girlfriend. Nope, the reason was more life changing than that, and suddenly I'm called upon to give advice I feel ( Read more... )