I know I have written many times before about our local pub, the Dolphin, but having bobbed down there for the last three-quarters of an hour or so, I have to repeat… it is the best pub in the world. Going into the Dolphin is like settling down in your own sitting room, comfortable, familiar, pleasant and so interesting.
We often go down to the Dolph a mere five-minute walk away on a Sunday night; often we meet our two friends, the two T’s, Trevor and Tim, but quite often we don’t. Sometimes we meet up with ‘the girls’ three village ladies, Shirley, Maureen and Jean who are always most interesting to talk to. And then there are occasions when we don’t get chatting to anyone, but we still feel comfortable and happy… and it’s not just the fabulous, well-kept beer, Otter.
We toddled down tonight, partly because Sunday is a sort of regular night, but also because I have just about finished my next novel. Four friends were having a natter, another few were at the bar, and we ordered our beer and sat by the window. Two of the friends had a new dog (the Dolphin is very dog friendly) and we said hello to nervous Jax, a sheepdog afraid of sheep. They departed and we chatted to various others, including the landlord who always has interesting tales to tell.
Time was called, and having enjoyed sufficient beautiful Otter we said cheerio to all and set off home. We’d talked about total eclipses, food, beer, shepherds, people’s mum’s birthdays, food, beer, stuff… we’d had a wonderful time, so home!