Fucking Honestly

I went out for lunch with my old Dad yesterday - I can call him that, at eighty five, I think.

He chose the venue ( and paid, for that matter - thanks Dad! ) - a once bustley lunchtime pub right on the old main road, or it was before they built a bypass... not that the road's exactly quiet, even so. A somewhat odd place, over all the near thirty years I've known it - seemingly obsessed for long after the possibility faded away, with using signage to dissuade coaches (buses) full of potential drinkers & diners.

Seems a very seventies thing, from my perspective; although no doubt people still do travel by bus & coach, despite far more prevalent car-ownership, and presumably the non-scheduled holiday types, do make stops for refreshments. So it's not the notion of there being modest numbers of hungry punters on the road, but that there still exist establishments who think they're busy or highfalutin enough to turn them away no matter what, and even spend money on a sign with which to do so.

In fairness, the unwelcome signs have gone, externally - leaving just incumbent regulars  to deter the cheerful chance customer.

If you live in London, or Portsmouth or Brighton, you probably rarely hear anyone banging on about how bleedin' wonderful the town or city is... but take the man (ok, some men) away from their 'home', and all they do is carp & boast of the numerous ways in which the place they moved away from, is so much better than where they are now. Specifically, in this case, London, and even more particularly, North of the River. "There's nuffink any good, Sarf' of the River, Nuffink!"... and apparently especially, no good football teams.


Since I'm carping myself, bunging olives in Tomato sauce right before you serve 'em, doesn't count as 'marinaded'. It's also nice to ditch the dried first slice of a pre-used cucumber; and mildly encouraging if the staff care enough about what they're selling, to update the 'specials' board before 1pm, so as to reflect the day's dishes. There are good reasons why a Pub beside a busy road, close to a quaint town centre, is quiet as can be, on a (lately) rare sunny lunchtime; and tempted though I am to blame Old Men & Pints of Beer... the cause likely lies squarely at the feet of them that run the place.


A pertinent tune then? - you're out of luck there too - but this is rather good, in a Poppier, Rockier, but still engagingly & audaciously, slightly shambolic, Camper Van Beethoveny sorta way. So maybe it is pertinent? - antidotally so.


♫  Fucking Honestly  -  The Please & Thank Yous
Mind Yr P's & Q's (2010)
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