When you spend as much time in the pub as we do it’s rare that anything particularly different happens, but last night there was a power cut. Just in the Taps.
And it was great. Well, I say great, but pleasant is probably more accurate.
There was just myself, Adam, Gerry and Peter drinking and Gareth working – which is to say, no normal people, so we were quite happy to sit in the dark by the faint green glow of the emergency lighting and against the backdrop of the constant beep of the burglar alarm which was in need of some reassurance as to what had happened, drinking and talking.
It had something of the air of the blitz about it.
Which is not to say that we were stoically enduring the nightly murderous bombing and vindictive mayhem of the might of the Third Reich, but that we had no lighting or power and….well….
Well, actually that was it.
That and the one brief slightly unsuccessful (though really quite gently moving) rendition of 'We'll Meet Again'
But, as I said, it was pleasant and different and I’ll remember it for some little while at least.
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