The Billy Wright, Wolverhampton

Pub #2450:

Dripping the viscous hand sanitiser all over the note pad sign in sheet at the Billy Wright, I was startled by the bartender sidling up and telling me to put on a mask then go find a seat. I was yet to sit down when she appeared again; “bums on seats,” she offered with a pantomime version of that action. As we both touched down, she said, “now we remove our masks.” Masked standing, unmasked sitting.

It is an old persons’ pub, which I generally like. Except for the yelling across the room and the fact that everyone had a phlegm-y cough. And, the rubbish music.

I miss the olden days.