Pub review
They say:
"Pub is absolutely fine, the skittle alley on the other hand is definitely NOT." --Pete Prole
3/5
I say:
Words may fail me here. I cast my eyes around furtively and prick my ears and…nothing. No words come to me to describe a pub without, so far, a single remarkable feature. TVs showing sport, fruit machines idly spinning, European lagers and fruity ciders. Teal, cream and laminate floors. The music jars between pop, rock and R&B from the 2000s. The paint is clean and unchipped. Unfaded by sun, unstained by beer. Greene King’s interior designer dragged a dreary, weary brush over the place not long ago. A few locals are in on a Wednesday night though they and I barely occupy the extensive space. One of them breaks off from their argument over the technicalities of motorbike branding to fruitlessly feed £10 notes into the machine next to me. There’s nothing to hate about this place and nothing to like. I’d have happily drunk in here once but at some point in my life I stopped being local. The eyes may be furtive, but they are also worldly, worn and cynical. They can’t look at this anymore.
2/5
They say:
"Pub is absolutely fine, the skittle alley on the other hand is definitely NOT." --Pete Prole
3/5
I say:
Words may fail me here. I cast my eyes around furtively and prick my ears and…nothing. No words come to me to describe a pub without, so far, a single remarkable feature. TVs showing sport, fruit machines idly spinning, European lagers and fruity ciders. Teal, cream and laminate floors. The music jars between pop, rock and R&B from the 2000s. The paint is clean and unchipped. Unfaded by sun, unstained by beer. Greene King’s interior designer dragged a dreary, weary brush over the place not long ago. A few locals are in on a Wednesday night though they and I barely occupy the extensive space. One of them breaks off from their argument over the technicalities of motorbike branding to fruitlessly feed £10 notes into the machine next to me. There’s nothing to hate about this place and nothing to like. I’d have happily drunk in here once but at some point in my life I stopped being local. The eyes may be furtive, but they are also worldly, worn and cynical. They can’t look at this anymore.
2/5
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