I was a little late setting off for the pub last night, so arrived last and in a bit of a lather.
Inside a cheerful fellow is sitting at the bar. Someone suggests he should buy our drinks and he grins. A moment later he pats his head and says, "Head". Then he says, "Car". We sit down. He repeats, "Head...car." Then "Crash." He grins and the others nod in agreement.
The conversation at the bar continues in the background, and again he's speaking: "Accident...head...car...crash." I notice the disabled buggy parked outside the window.
The pub has become very crowded. Then everyone leaves and I realise there's a skittle match on. We can hear them in the dining room that doubles as a skittle alley. One of the teams has a battle cry similar to the All Blacks, but with a strong Westcountry flavour: "Hooyarr! Hooyarr!"
It's time for us to go. The match is in full swing, everyone talking loudly. The fellow with the head is sitting watching, and grins at us as we leave.
Outside it is cold, the stars are out, and I have to navigate home by head-torch because I forgot to charge the battery.
