A win at Temple of Doom, A win at the Millenium, A win at Anfield. To say that Sam and I celebrated in Bangor last night would be the understatement of the last three ice ages. A false start in a deserted Black Bull (Efes/Staropramen)was followed by Stella and straws in hoods at Tafarn Y GLOB...Krony and then Quagmire at the Harp ( a less than clever mix...thank you Bryn...). At the Varsity we succumbed to the bangin beats (and procession of young ladies wearing 21 heels and pelmets) and quaffed some Brains (Bryn again...). It was only natural that we should conclude proceedings near the family seat in Hirael. At The Mostyn Arms we took multiple Guinness and enjoyed a discussion about Northern Soul with a good man. Mine host informed me that I looked very much like my Dad. Sam compared beards with the most excellent barman. A short swaying stroll to Orme Rd for heritage pictures led to doner meat, chips and chilli jus at the Shaheen. Here we met the notable Mark Jones who assured us of the quality of the fayre. Behind Peeps (really...) we hailed a Chubbs (actually it was more behind where I used to sign on) and a garrulous taximan returned us to the mountain eyrie of Pete Jones (famous artist) who, on returning from his own social engagements, had made the wise choice to not wait up. 2.19am...bed. 8.36am...wake up. 9.36...drive to Staines...tip out beardy son 3.30pm arrive Lacey Green 5.30pm arrive The Black Horse, Lacey Green 5.31pm re-commence alchohol intake. 5.36pm feel better 7.30pm consume massive roast beef dinner...feel even better 9.53pm Now. Tyskie open...my name is John and I am.... The End.
Posted on: Sun, 30 Nov 2014 21:56:13 +0000