Well I thought that I should get one more post in before the end of the year. I apologise for the lack of posts but I am trying to get the next chapter of Rachel’s story written up and typing is not the best of ways of befriending Ms Nature.
As we approach the end of the festive insanity I can almost see the light at the end of the tunnel and a return to normal pub life. The Christmas festivities predictably involved complete and utter strangers visiting your local and seeming surprised that the local ale house cannot furnish them with a Chambord* Royale despite them having seen it on a television advert, once. The pub, it seems, is the one place where everybody who visits for the first time considers themselves an expert.
The worst thing that you can hear in a pub on Christmas day is “oh I am sure that they had Cherry Heering/Advocat last year”. This simple sentence means that the landlord purchased some sugary garbage for his new-found customers and tipped it before they returned for their next annual visit. For these people I would like to offer some advice on a means by which they can ensure that the pub stocks their favourite tipple – use it! See it is that simple, if you turn up a couple of times a month, ask for old manglewort syrup in your pint then it will become a stock item, supply and demand and all that. Don’t misunderstand me we don’t mind you using the pub once a year just don’t think that you are anything more than a visitor.
We are now heading into the last of the insanities namely New Year. This is not an event in its own right it is simply the ending of one year and the beginning of the next. Unless you are particularly frail you can be reasonably confident that tomorrow will come, quite why we choose to celebrate one of the 365 times this happens a year is beyond me. I would like to see a number of drinks laced with poison so that we could celebrate making it through but I fear we need another couple of Tory governments before that is legal. So this year, as every year, people will celebrate the marvel that is the clock reaching 00:00 as if it is some sort of an achievement.
When these digits magically align at this mysterious pattern we will celebrate by invading the personal space of strangers, whose idea was that? Women will be overcome by some insane game of kiss bingo and will endeavour to kiss everyone in the room whilst the men will shake very hand that they can get hold of. Timing is critical in this game, all personal space boundaries reappear at 00:07 and remain in place for the rest of the year. Every year our accident and emergency departments are filled with people who went past that 00:07 deadline when the truce ends and we all go back to being strangers.
Given that this is a night when many people will be visiting friends, pubs and clubs there is one other issue that I would like to touch on before I draw this to a close, one for the ladies. When you reach the toilet this is not an achievement, there is no reward. I know that sometimes there is a queue but when you get in there it is not a gold cup moment, you are not victorious and, sorry to say it, you have not displayed any special skill. There really is no need to record the fact that you were in a toilet for prosperity, honest. As adults we are expected to use toilets as a matter of routine a bit like brushing your teeth or getting dressed.
When you return from the toilet you don’t expect a round of applause and people asking you “did you have a good one?” or a man with a stop watch outside lifting your arm and declaring “if that was all liquid we have an endurance winner”. Do you see what I am getting at here? it is not a celebratory moment so please no more toilet selfies.
*Other overpriced pretentious liqueurs are available
Gav Young 