I spent the weekend painting, then went for a drink (my reward). The pub of choice was the Neptune. It's a very old pub as are some of the regulars. God may have brought his first pint there when he turned 18. In fact it may have been one of the regulars that brought it for him.
Apart from being old the Neptunes other claim to fame is it's floor. It slopes at a pretty alarming angle, whoever said craftsman from the past knew their stuff never met this crew. If it's your first time and you've mistakenly chosen and drunk a couple of pints of the local brew, a walk to the toilets will have you convinced you've developed a serve limp.
Anyway Sunday night is music night. So the place was rammed. It took a while to negotiate a clear route to the bar. I must of used up a year's worth of "excuse me's" and "alright's" over that ten foot journey. The bar staff are all female and not very tall.. I could be wrong about the height thing of course, the serve slope on my side of the bar may extend to their's.
Once armed with a drink I aimed for a spot where there weren't a lot of heads, so hopefully a gap. Here I could stand and watch things unfold for the next 40 minutes or so. The gap turned out to be the space between the doors to the ladies and gents toilets. I shared it with a redundant jukebox and a bench. Over the course of my pint I think I must of met most of the patrons that night, as the alcohol did it's stuff and moved swiftly to their bladders. First was Parka girl, I say girl, because the Parka chose the ladies loo and wore high heels. Apart from those two clues there was little else to suggest what was hidden behind the olive green package. Then several large bellied gents one after the other. All wearing jeans and t-shirts with various logos, rendered ineligible after many years of weekly washing. You could tell which were the musio' s and which the dedicated beer merchants. Half wore hats the others carried their beer with them wherever they went. On the whole, the women. We'll those visiting the loo, made more of an effort to be presentable. There was evidence of hair brushes, make-up and perfume. The perfume being much appreciated by me. Considering my position between the loo's.
After what seemed an age, punctuated with lots of "one, two" one, two, yeah" 's the music started. A cover of a long forgotten Van Morrison number, followed by an Elvis number. Everybody's happy, the musio' s have found enough space to do that head jogging thing, that passes for dancing when there isn't enough room and they have finally admired to themselves after too many years of self delusion that they dance rubbish. The beer merchants have the bar and the mini barmaids to themselves.
My glass is almost empty and I seriously think about a second but that will lead to a third and then the musio's and the beer merchants will discover what I already know. I dance rubbish.
Onwards and upwards in the pursuit of fulfilment :-)))