Ann was having her hair done so I had a coffee in the Swan while waiting for her. It was better than any from Costa or Starbucks and only £2; amazing value with a comfy armchair before a roaring log fire to sit beside. These old pubs could make a fortune if they turned themselves into coffee bars and served morning biscuits, or afternoon tea with cakes, rather than rely on the casual trade of an alcoholic public.
Overheard in the pub, the men were gossiping about heavy drinkers they had known. One mentioned a women they knew, whom he'd told her directly: "You're a dipsomaniac!" "No," she answered, "I am no such thing. I'm an alcoholic."
Another mentioned he'd left the pub one day and a strange women came over to him and kissed him. Suddenly she stepped back and said, "Oh sorry, I thought you were someone else. "I didn't mind," he said, "I just told her she should have gone to Spec Savers."
Ann's mother used to tell a similar story: in a toy shop one day, she seized a blow-up hammer and ran up and hit Ann's dad on the head. He turned round, and it was someone else. Ann's cousin Joyce had a similar tale about her mum who always used to pinch the butcher's bum when he bent down — until one day it wan't the butcher but a total stranger.
Message from Ann in response to yesterday's blog, work-too much and lack of.
The plumber came yesterday to fix our toilet that was refusing to fill. He was telling her that two of his nephews with degrees who live in London cannot find jobs either. One worked two years for the Prison Service and applied to join the Police Force. They told him that he did not have experience with the general public — prisoners are obviously not classed as the general public!!
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