Before we started the day which culminated in the discovery of a hidden archway in the new home, we needed a heavy push broom for the patio off the garden which was strewn with sand and debris from the skip fill. I also had run streak mileage to do and a powerful thirst and, as it was Sunday and the DIY place wouldn’t open for a while, I ran a counterclockwise loop to pick up a few new-to-me roads canal segments. That the Billiard Hall, a Wetherspoon, would start serving alcohol a few minutes before I could get there following this path was purely coincidental.
I got a plum porter as seems appropriate to the season and sat in view of the bar. A loud fellow who must already have been loaded (because you don’t generally find people this stupid without drink involved) came in with a stand-up bit he seemed to think was hilarious.
The bartendress that had given me the stink eye when I ordered quietly was likewise unimpressed with our entertainer and he stopped, seemingly chastened, and stared into the distance about 20° below horizontal for 10 long beats before throwing his arms wide and singing, badly (of course), “If you don’t know me by now…you will never ever know me.”
Despite this earworm that has displaced all the Christmas music, I like this bar.
Endless British Pub Crawl (Part 3) 
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