there's a lot to say, but on reflection not as much as you would think. I've found a certain rhythm, an acceptable level where work and survival aren't mutually exclusive, Small pleasures, like a red bull and a fag while I read the papers before we open, or a porterhouse and chips and a glass of red after a busy service. New bits of joy like nips of cointreau with the missus after a hard days slog whilst overseeing the late staff like a slightly pissed but hopefully benevolent walrus.
I'l try to write more soon. To those who've wished me well or popped in for a pint and a feed, slainté.
4 comments:
good lad.....glad you haven't given up on the blogging just yet.....
welcome back, cobber. many were the soldiers who peered wearily over the rim and thought you needed time off from the Front... but damn it's good to see you back in the trench with less sergeant blood'n guts and more officer-like calm aboutcher. Long may ye prosper!
may Bacchus bless ye - and we ain't talkin old wicket keepers. So good to have you back - in the saddle in a far less rugged ride, with a more humane workload. You've created a glorious thing - and for grown up drinkers the appearance of a publican behind the jump with a soul for music, and the art of the interesting conversation... we may just beat the Tyranny of the Wide Screen yet.
I'm glad to hear there have been so many compensations for the hard graft you and the missus have undoubtedly put in...However, much as I love a good meal myself, I think I'd draw the line at a porterhose - is that a hotel employees dick? (heh heh)
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