The Three Stags
After nja left me I went back to the pub. The night was dark and stormy and flashes illuminated the three heads of class cervidae thrown high on the rough hewn wall:
Later, much later, I was to find out that many people consider this pub the best pub in the Peak district. I would have liked to have gone back to have checked the next day, or the day after, but it was closed, both times. Close, desolate and deserted. Did we really see it? Did I really have a pint of Absolution there? I cannot tell.
I knocked on the door, and the red-head, slightly drunk, opened it again.
"Can I have a drink?" I asked.
"Come in, come in," she said, waving her arm over half the room. Literally, half the room. There were five people seated and a spare space in the corner and two pumps, one serving Absolution and the other labelled "House own - Black Lurcher." I went for Absolution, as I always do, and sat in the spare space.
The two small grey lurchers in the room jumped on the table, which was made out of planks, and sniffed at my drink. "Good Doggies," I said, nervously. They looked at each other and then jumped down to the floor to reset their rest against the landlady's legs, staring at the punters sat drinking. Two more strangers walked in. No room to sit; they stood at the bar.
"We'll have the house beer," they said.
"It's off," said the Landlord, rising from the seat by his wife by the door.
"Oh," said the strangers, and left. The lurchers bared their teeth, risibly. I may have heard a cackle, but I am not sure. Dogs don't cackle, afer all. "This metric stuff is rubbish," said the old man in the corner.
"Aar, it be that" said the young man, dark haird, muscled, wearing a beany.
"You can't do your sums in metric," said the old man.
I cleared my throat. They all looked at me.
"Actually," I said, "You know how all of those robots keep crashing on Mars?" The old man nodded once. The young man looked confused.
"Well," I said. "The American engineers were working in imperial and the European engineers in metric. And they never bothered to check." 23
"Ar. Hahar!" said the old man. "And it's bloody strange," he said. "Imperial. You'd think they'd have given that up."
"Yeah, well," said another, and they were off.
I finished my pint. "They're clearing Africa in order to grow biodiesel, you know," said the man sat by the bar. I listened intently. He repeated himself. "Of course," I said, "Of course. Yes." I nodded. "Great pub," I said to the landlady. "Can I come back?"
"Of course," she said.
"I went to a brilliant pub last night," I said to Alex and Steve the next day, as we tried to cook bacon and eggs.
"The Three Stags?" asked Steve. "Some people say that's the best pub in the Peaks. If they let you in."
"I certainly think so," I said.
"Let's go tonight," said Alex.
But it was closed that night, and the night after.
23Yes, I'm sure I've got the details wrong. No need to tell me.
Later, much later, I was to find out that many people consider this pub the best pub in the Peak district. I would have liked to have gone back to have checked the next day, or the day after, but it was closed, both times. Close, desolate and deserted. Did we really see it? Did I really have a pint of Absolution there? I cannot tell.
I knocked on the door, and the red-head, slightly drunk, opened it again.
"Can I have a drink?" I asked.
"Come in, come in," she said, waving her arm over half the room. Literally, half the room. There were five people seated and a spare space in the corner and two pumps, one serving Absolution and the other labelled "House own - Black Lurcher." I went for Absolution, as I always do, and sat in the spare space.
The two small grey lurchers in the room jumped on the table, which was made out of planks, and sniffed at my drink. "Good Doggies," I said, nervously. They looked at each other and then jumped down to the floor to reset their rest against the landlady's legs, staring at the punters sat drinking. Two more strangers walked in. No room to sit; they stood at the bar.
"We'll have the house beer," they said.
"It's off," said the Landlord, rising from the seat by his wife by the door.
"Oh," said the strangers, and left. The lurchers bared their teeth, risibly. I may have heard a cackle, but I am not sure. Dogs don't cackle, afer all. "This metric stuff is rubbish," said the old man in the corner.
"Aar, it be that" said the young man, dark haird, muscled, wearing a beany.
"You can't do your sums in metric," said the old man.
I cleared my throat. They all looked at me.
"Actually," I said, "You know how all of those robots keep crashing on Mars?" The old man nodded once. The young man looked confused.
"Well," I said. "The American engineers were working in imperial and the European engineers in metric. And they never bothered to check." 23
"Ar. Hahar!" said the old man. "And it's bloody strange," he said. "Imperial. You'd think they'd have given that up."
"Yeah, well," said another, and they were off.
I finished my pint. "They're clearing Africa in order to grow biodiesel, you know," said the man sat by the bar. I listened intently. He repeated himself. "Of course," I said, "Of course. Yes." I nodded. "Great pub," I said to the landlady. "Can I come back?"
"Of course," she said.
"I went to a brilliant pub last night," I said to Alex and Steve the next day, as we tried to cook bacon and eggs.
"The Three Stags?" asked Steve. "Some people say that's the best pub in the Peaks. If they let you in."
"I certainly think so," I said.
"Let's go tonight," said Alex.
But it was closed that night, and the night after.
23Yes, I'm sure I've got the details wrong. No need to tell me.