A local pub for local people
“Are you sure you want to go into this pub,” asks my boss, as 4 of us fall out of the car.
It was our quarterly meeting, and social event. Boss takes us out for dinner at some local pub - not your Yates Wine Lodge chain, oh no, these are always small, local places, serving very good food, at prices higher than you would pay for on a regular basis, but not hugely overpriced.
Until it comes to the wine, which always flows freely.
I was staying with one guy from work who lives in the same town as the boss, and two other colleagues. We were meeting up with S’s husband, in a pub described as “having a party”.
Outside the pub were two six-foot men, in leather biker gear, beardy-weirdies both of them. This is what prompted the question to me from my boss.
“Are you insane? This looks like my kind of pub.”
Oh, how wrong I was. Or maybe that should be right?
It was the most bizarre pub I have ever been in. There was a party on for the landlord and landlady, who had been in residence for 1 year (as good a reason as any for a party I guess).
The clientele consisted of, amongst others -
- the two beardy-weirdie bikers
- I counted three 60+ women wearing sequined boob tubes
- the forty-something man with floppy hair, narrow collared suit jacket, red tie and braces (couldn’t see his filofax anywhere though)
- one very skinny 16 year old boy in the obligatory black tshirt
- another similarly aged boy, but with a full beard and the most enormous beer gut
- two people who I would swear were pre-op transexuals
- one 50-ish man with the most obvious wig I have ever seen
- two dj’s for the disco - one about 20, the other looking like Keith Richards…..
“Welcome to rural Oxfordshire……”