Gangsta Pubing

Yesterday was Friday night and an empty house! All my friends seemed to be snuggled up in bed and I started to get a bit restless, longing for some company and change of scenery. And so I decided to do the one brave thing: Head out to the local on a Friday night! I ordered my Whiskey and Coke and sat down by the fireplace to regain some warmth from being sat in our lounge without slippers for too long. I cannot recall one bad memory from fires, there's something about them that makes me feel at peace, brings out memories and makes me dream about the future. And so I enjoyed the fire until my boots felt like melting, and I started to make a tour around the pub.

The main visitors to the pub were black/caribbean men, and so I felt slightly out of place, but on the other hand it was MY local, so I had all right to be there. In my head I was thinking I was more gangsta than any of them, but then they all seemed quite friendly, the odd strong smell of weed, especially around the Jamaicans.

After the fire I made a move toward the pool table where I caused immediate distraction. A young chap called Abz was so busy chatting me up his opponent had plenty of time to move all the balls around on the table without him noticing. I ended up playing a few games with them, and I discovered that my pool skills have surely gone embarrassingly rusty. I reckon I should try and pop into the pub more often to get some more practice.

When my sister comes next week I should take her to Lebeqs Tavern, my local!

All Love