My sanctuary has been invaded. My ivory drinking tower over-run by unwelcome guests. I could hear them talking as I approached. Knew that I was not going to be afforded the luxury of a quiet solitary pint.
It is unreasonable of me to expect perfect isolation. I do not pay extra for this privilege. I always knew that one day my lair would be discovered.
They are a party of five. Middle-aged; three men, two women. Work colleagues, not friends, although all perfectly friendly enough. There are no bitter rivalries here. Up to Town for a conference is my guess; killing time until the kick-off. At least they are not sitting at my table. That would be hard to stomach.
I try not to listen in on their conversation, but snippets punctuate my quiet corner:
“Smells of cat’s piss.”
“This is sweet.”
“Diabetes in a glass.”
“Well, if you will choose a black beer.”
Everyone’s a beer critic.
“Didn’t know you could get a pulled pork pie.”
Mmm, pulled pork pie.
© Beery Sue
Beery Sue is not very sociable.