Real ale
We went out for lunch at The Greyhound in Stockbridge yesterday. When we got home, my father had a snooze during the Italy-Spain match. I took him a cup of tea later.
"I'm all dressed up with nowhere to go!" he exclaimed.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"I thought we were going out for lunch today? Did you go out without me?"
"We went over to Stockbridge: don't you remember driving through the wet fields? We sat in the corner near the large fireplace. You had fish and then ginger cake and ice cream for pudding."
"Really? I don't remember any of that!"
"You kept saying how foggy it was," (In fact the window looked out onto the wall of the next door building.), "and the man on the next door table asked you if your tie was London Scottish." (No!)
"I have absolutely no recollection of that!"
"You had half a pint of ale."
3 Comments:
What a bittersweet story!
Moments to treasure .
Ah, your Dad remembers the best bit! There's a lesson there....
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