In “the local”. Wee ol’ Jimmy just came out the loo with his octogenarian stack of buttons trapped in his corduroy fly. Didn’t feel a thing.

Cue much laughter and purchase of half heavies.

Why I’m here is a different story but there’s a perverse theory that it’s “sad” to spend your last days in the pub. You know, surrounded by friends where it’s warm and you’re fed and looked after…

A pint for the old timers!

If my life takes enough turns that the local is where is spend my pension, fine.

there’s a perverse theory that it’s “sad” to spend your last days in the pub.

Its never ever ‘sad’ to be in the pub. A good, comfortable, friendly local is a thing of beauty. Its not like you’re drinking cider in the park, and shouting at buses, is it? I’ve just come from the pub after a rather nice liquid lunch, and as soon as I’ve finished pretending to do some work, I’m going straight back there

Cheers!!! 😀

In “the local”. Wee ol’ Jimmy just came out the loo with his octogenarian stack of buttons trapped in his corduroy fly. Didn’t feel a thing.

Cue much laughter and purchase of half heavies.

Why I’m here is a different story but there’s a perverse theory that it’s “sad” to spend your last days in the pub. You know, surrounded by friends where it’s warm and you’re fed and looked after…

A pint for the old timers!

I understand roughly 1/3 of this. 😕

Much as I loathe and despise smoking – pubs really aren’t the same since!

Hopefully when everyones stopped smoking or is sitting there with E-cigs, the atmosphere will return!

Pubs, particularly old man pubs, are some of the best places in the world. Friendship, company and entertainment all combined with good beer (assuming you get the right pub). When I am old it is the pub where I shall spend my time, sat with my friends, supping halves of good bitter exchanging stories with friends. The Duke William Stourbridge or the Waggon and Horses in Halesowen are 2 fine examples.

More pleasingly in general is that good pubs seem to be enjoying something of a revival. In my area 2 crap, chain based pubs have been closed down to be replaced my cracking free houses. Both seem very busy, are manned by enthusiastic staff and full of people of all ages.

I understand roughly 1/3 of this.

Me too. I *think* he’s saying he got his knob stuck in a zip but I might be wrong.

“Old git got knob stuck in zip cue the kind of camaraderie only found from lifelong friends and respect of the youth.”

When I die cold and alone, I want the landlord to notice I’m missing.

I look forward to retirement, wandering down to the pub, with me dug, having a beer or two with mates in the late afternoon discussing the hot topics of the day and then heading home before the live music and young noisy ones come out to play.

“You had sex with a ghost? Really? A GHOST?”
“GHOST, Oh no, I thought you said GOAT, Oh, I’m really embarrassed now”

Pub conversations, you can’t beat them

I’m in my local now, and the resident old differs insist in watching the crap game shows on the TV and giving all the (usually wrong) answers. Which is fine, because it then gets turned off.

Except they’re all deaf as bloody posts, through years doing proper jobs, operating heavy machinery. The volume (of the tellybox and the shouted answers) would shame a Motörhead gig! 😀

Pub conversations, you can’t beat them

And you often can’t remember them, which is usually for the best.

Well if Costa is the new pub…

I was sat in the garden with Teen2 and bikes last weekend and a nice old man got talking. Asks the Teen “is that a new bike?”. It was. Then says “I see you are wearing a cycling top with Belgian Classics on it, I used to race in Belgium”.

Further discusssions, and it transpires that 1) he used to ride a bit and 2) he has designed the odd bike track – well Newport, Manchester and none other than the Olympic Velodrome.

Step forward Ron Webb, lovely chap – wasn’t offered tickets for the Olympics, for which he came out of retirement to design 🙁

Big Al says dogs can’t look up

Here’s a dog looking up..

..urban myths

Boy in the pub last night was suggesting that milk is whiter abroad… just scaremongering if you ask me.

no a “shaun of the dead” quote actually

Lunge, the Duke is my local. Thanks to the odd shifts I work I’m often found in there on a quiet weekday afternoon. There are a few old locals that pop in on various days, always interesting to chat to them. However it can be a little depressing, especially as some (well one) go in every day, sink 8 pints then move to the next pub on their way home. I stick to my 3-4 pints once a week and that’s it