There’s this great little food market I sometimes go to for my lunch. But let’s forget the food for a moment, as good as it is. Currently there’s a load of street art around and about the market, from giant paintings, to surveillance robots in the coffee shop, to huge be-capped bugs on the roofs. Read the rest of this entry »
So, I’ve been thinking a little about this odd little place, and wondering how best I can take it forward. Is it fine plodding along as it is? Would it benefit from any changes? What could I do in future? This is where you, dear reader, come in. I thought I’d take the opportunity to ask readers old and new what they think. Read the rest of this entry »
In a meeting today I said “They need not to think about what we could do for them, but what they could do for us…to misquote Kennedy.” I was greeted with blank stares from my work colleagues.
So, poll time… Read the rest of this entry »
Hello all of you who have come across my little ol’ corner of the web via your search for ‘England flag‘, it’s good to see you! And to all my regulars, welcome back! Business, as they say, is about to pick up, with the World Cup just a matter of days away. So, how about a preview? And how about a guide to how I will be wasting my money with a series of glorious gambles and pensive punts for all of you out there? Read the rest of this entry »
A first for the blog, a very brief piece of fiction, for this festive time. Let me know what you think! And apologies for the terrible pun in the title.
Christmas was not a happy time at The George for Reg.
In the last week of November Cathy the barmaid had hung up the Christmas decorations. Reg, being Reg, threatened to tear them down. In the end, he only removed the tinsel that hung over his seat in the corner. He also removed the mistletoe that mysteriously appeared there soon after.
If nothing else, Christmas made Reg punctual. At noon each day he would be waiting as the doors were unbolted, primed to secure his seat. He would not risk losing it to an unsuspecting gentleman wearing a paper crown.
By mid-December, Reg was plagued by the parties of revellers patronising The George. At any one time there was guaranteed to be someone acting festive.
On one occasion a group broke out a rendition of ‘Deck The Halls’.
“Tis the season for bloody amateur drinkers, more like,” grumbled Reg, to no one in particular. “Bring on January, when they’ll all have gone back to their gyms and widescreen televisions, and us proper drinkers can get some peace.”
Reg drained his pint of Best, got up from his seat, and left the pub, letting in some snow on his way out.
A gentleman wearing a paper crown immediately slumped in Reg’s seat. “Tis the season to be jolly,” he sang, raising his pint of lager, to no one in particular.
Wait until next year 