From the chimes of salsa playing out of a somewhat disheveled speaker
to the bongs and bangs of a local spoons.
"What you saying, film night?"
A retiree suggests as he himself sways among
a rather mock-extravagant carpet.
The thought of a few grown men sitting around the Tele in any sort of regular capacity is an endearing one.
Another re-watch of an old western or Kung Fu dvd
that has got pint glass rings printed onto it seems to be round the corner.
I might even watch a film now.
Not with the three gentlemen, although that could be a good story.
Tinny phone speakers play out the beckons of a football commentator,
another person on a grass pitch has kicked a ball in the right direction,
it's what it really boils down to.
Although everything can be simmered down to it's most basic - what's the fun in that?
Romanticise everything I say.
Or at least almost everything.
A man peels off his high Vis jacket as he steps into the pub,
perhaps a late commute home from the office?
I hardly think he's just clocked off from another shift as a lolly pop lady.
I guess he'd be called a lolly pop person these days.
Lolly Pop ladies must have a strong sense of fulfillment,
protecting future generations on a day-to-day basis.
I regret my choice of seat,
The constant waff of urinal cakes are not aiding this semi-satisfactory Guinness.
I'll probably leave in 10.