An interesting Smoky-Drinky last night. One of the regulars is to be fifty in September, and as he fits the textbook definition of 'lecherous old bugger' we're thinking of getting him one of these.
We took a break to visit the pub, because we knew this particular pub has knocked down its attached restaurant and wondered what they planned to put in its place. It's hard to tell at this stage because it's just a brieze-block box but it's certainly not a smoking shelter. It actually provides protection from the elements so it will be illegal to smoke in it.
This pub used to be a regular haunt of ours. Once a week rather than once a year. In those days you could not go in late on a Friday night and expect to go straight to the bar. Now you can, and you can get served in an instant too. Why? Oh, probably some bollocks about supermarket prices or something. There can't be any other reason. It could not possibly be related to our rare visit being restricted to just a couple of drinks before heading back to a more comfortable venue. I mean, why would any smokers do that? I can't imagine, can you?
Supermarket prices. Must be. It's not as if smokers were ever to be found in pubs, so banning us has had no effect whatsoever.
Except one. It's far easier to get to the bar on a Friday night than it has ever been.
Oh, and we don't, and never have, nursed a half-pint all evening. We drink whisky. Doubles. Except for one guy who prefers rum.
Now we drink elsewhere.