Thoughts that occurred while drinking in various basements

1. No matter how "cool" or "trendy" the bar (jeeesus, I sound like my grandad), what I’m always going to want in my boozers is a corner. This isn’t a happenstance of getting older, this is something I’ve always craved. A decent pub is not a decent pub without a cosy seat where I can hunker down, preferably with a tall backing made of dark wood, a place I can stretch out and settle in for the duration. None of this standing around malarky. And definitely not when you’re taking some new shoes on their first proper outing.

2. That it’s quite odd to see, or hear tell of, old crushes. Especially while you’re standing around talking to them and you’re still mates and you’re having a lovely old time, but there’s still a voice running through the back of your head saying "what the hell were you thinking? Look at him. I mean, come on Bagel, you’re no oil painting yourself but please. He’s not even that funny. Or clever. Holy shit, he still lives with his parents?" The chemistry of attraction is apparently a funny thing.

3. What the hell am I doing in various basement bars when this is the last pleasant evening before the snow? *

4. I may be a bit drunk now, but London – I love you. I really do. I know you’ve got your skanky parts in Piccadilly Circus and I cannot believe I just walked through Leicester Square without someone being sick on my new shoes, but look at you. Look at Trafalgar Square and the National Gallery all lit up. You’re lovely, you are.

5. I cannot read train departure boards when I’m squiffy.

* Snow. Wtf?

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