A Friday Pint




Am sat in the garden enjoying a pint, the sun's going down and the scent of lillies is in the air. It's silent save for the cooing of pigeons and the occasional bray of an orse.

Half a mile away is my favourite pub. Daily it has the choice of 8 real ales plus the usual over chilled overpriced pasteurised crap so favoured by those without a soul. Why am I not there? They're doing a beer and music festival all weekend. A tenner for a wrist band about 20 real ales at a fiver a go and live music - a mate has just messaged to say hes there. Once upon a time I'd have been all over that - but age says .... its nicer when I can sit down, its not rammed, you don't have to queue 30 minutes for a beer that nirmally costs £4.70 and you can actually hear conversation. Im old and im not even ashamed of that.
 

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