| matthewjrichardson Dec 10 | Eight bells, and stepping out of taxis, the sharpeners, the cashpoint visits, nervous chittering and you look fabs, and backslaps, bouncing on the balls of their feet as they wait for some straggler. Nine, and the rush of warm air from the pub, the I'll get us a tables, and this one's on mes, and at the table it's coats on the backs of chairs and seat swapping and the tacky surfaces, the beer mats flipped and everyone finding their places in conversations. By ten the latecomers have arrived with embarrassed excuses and never mind you're here nows, the finding of extra chairs and sorry is anybody sitting here, the tray of shuddering shot glasses that someone's ordered on the sly, the this is how it started last time, the bonhomie a little less forced. | | | | You can also reply to this email to leave a comment. | | | | |
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