bottoms up
I finally went to the pub t’other week for the first time in five months and I am delighted to report that a thoroughly enjoyable experience it was too. However, I have to admit it was not without a little anxiety as, on the face of it, the majority of Joe Public appears to have fallen into one of two groups: either they are chomping at the proverbial bit because civil liberties have been impinged, or they can’t believe pubs have been reopened and it’s all going to end in tears.
Being a middle-of-the-road, bleeding-heart liberal I fall somewhere between the two and, as it transpired, so did the majority of my fellow revellers:
– Group A: Those who consider it their patriotic duty to go to the pub and spend, spend, spend for Boris and beyond.
– Group B: The drinking equivalent of anti-vaxers who think the lockdown was unnecessary and want to tell you about it. Again. And again. Many wear t-shirts proclaiming ‘I have my Corona in a bottle’.
– Group C: People who really don’t give much of a damn about anything and it’s as if the last five months have passed them by.
– Group D: Gerald. Every pub has a Gerald and the last time I saw him, he was in the same seat, at the same time, with the same drink. When I next pop in for a cheeky-one, bet your bottom dollar, Gerald’ll be there again.
What social distancing there was didn’t spoil the fun, there was no need to download some convoluted app to order a beer and we were all able to roll along in a way that a Zoom call can’t convey. Hair was longer, tales were taller and clothes even more out of fashion. Welcome back, cheers and make mine a large one.
