into the free. Quench my thirst and my curiosity. diary of an occult resolution assistant.
Friday 18:08 The first pint.
18:09, the second.
The first drink did not touch the sides, I drained my glass quickly and less ladylike I could not have been, cold larger ran across my cheeks and down my neck but the main flow went in the right direction. The escaping air came back and I thought of the small snotty child outside the shop as I wiped the remains from my face with my sleeve. The Jolly Reaper had a good barman, he had poured a second pint and sat it down next to my empty glass without promt. He took the money from my change still on the bar from my first drink and I collected the rest and with a thanks, sat down at a table and took a look around.
There were two different pairs of diners sat at small tables over on the otherside of the large room eating meals and participating in conversations of established couples; snippets carried on the air in the quiet pub of mortgage payments and which bin goes out tomorrow.
There was no one else in here with us and the barman had resorted to reading a copy of a red topped daily paper. Time to think, what was I going to achieve here tonight and what did I have already to report upon? My thoughts were full of the girls who had gone to London to chase their dreams, especially Beth who's leaving had caused so much pain to two such lovely people. Didn't the girls have something to do with helping her leave? None of the current group look old enough to have been in the group when Beth left (going on the ability to legally enter the pub - that is if the locals and bar manager also observed this too) but Mary would have been around and could have ben the financial and moral support Beth would have needed; but I shouldn't jump to conclusions and I need to focus more on my primary objective.
A distraction came in the guise of a white coated chef with a large bowl of thick cut chips covered with vinegar (judging by the wonderful smell eminating from them with the steam and filling the room easily). My stomach guggled loudly as the bowl was sat down on the bar next to the young paper reading barman. The two men smilled at the sound which developed into a laugh when they saw my embarisment.
''Come over here lass.'' Said the barman, ''There are plenty too many for me, and I ate before coming to work. Please.'' the bowl was slid to the edge of the bar closest to me and he proffered me a long thick chip and thewn snatched it back towards his mouth and biting it quickly. He soon regretted it as he coughed out the steaming hot fried potatoe. I joined the chef in a stomach hurting laugh and took a place at the bar.
We were left alone by the chef who disappeared into the bowels of the public house. The barman was friendly, chating away about the funnier items found in todays paper and making me feel at ease. I didn't feel like he was chatting me up and he wasn't my usual type but I found myself leaning in and giving this young man more of my attention. He was ginger and thin with a tufty beard that if anything was more ginger than his head and might have looked better if the hair had covered more than 30% of his chin.
The conversation was artfully changed round to me in such a way I didn't even know I had started to divulge things about myself to this stranger, but as a guy once said when I asked him about the male perspective of chatting up techniques, get a girl talking about her favourite subject and you're halfway there. I asked what that was and he replied simply 'herself'. I started talking about London, about some of the areas in the newspaper articles and trying to bring local knowledge to educate him on some of the more obsuce stories. No there was not a crocodile chasing and RSPCA warden through that park and No, I doubt a rat the size of a dog took over a kebab shop by chasing the staff out. ( I did add, that knowing some kebab shop owners, it would take more than a rat of any size to scare them away from their posts. I once saw two elderly chefs chase out three knife carrying youths from their shop, who were intent on robbery, with kebab knives as long as their arms.
After I worked out I was now the primary contributer to this conversation I used the opportunity to artfully diverted it for my own purpose. O.K, not so artfully but I did a little laugh and pulled my top tighter to bring the secret weapons into play.
''I've come down from London chasing news stories of my own.'' I said noticing from his eye line he had taken the bait.
''The wild dogs thing.'' He said bringing his eyes up to meet mine.
''You think its a dog?'' I asked.
''You don't?'' He came back.
''I was hoping for a wild cat or a story of an escaped animal from a private estate or zoo.'' I said giving a wide eyed look straight at him. Unfortunatly either I had come on too strong or he wasn't used to continued female closeness because he turned his back to me and poured a drink from an optic hanging on the wall.
He turned back but this time took a position leaning against the back bar almost knocking the lemon slices into the ice bucket. The chips were almost gone and as I took the ast one I changed tact slightly.
''So what is the story here? There's been a couple of reports of mauled sheep and other animals and stories of large cats. Or.'' I said this last word in a stage whisper to encourage a psudo confidentuality before continuing, ''Are there witches in the woods performing Satanic rites?'' I laughted and my companion went white.
''I have work to do miss.'' He said and collected the bowl and paper and walked quickly out the the kitchen before I could cut him of with another word.
Story of my life, I thought and went back to my able and my drink.
18:09, the second.
The first drink did not touch the sides, I drained my glass quickly and less ladylike I could not have been, cold larger ran across my cheeks and down my neck but the main flow went in the right direction. The escaping air came back and I thought of the small snotty child outside the shop as I wiped the remains from my face with my sleeve. The Jolly Reaper had a good barman, he had poured a second pint and sat it down next to my empty glass without promt. He took the money from my change still on the bar from my first drink and I collected the rest and with a thanks, sat down at a table and took a look around.
There were two different pairs of diners sat at small tables over on the otherside of the large room eating meals and participating in conversations of established couples; snippets carried on the air in the quiet pub of mortgage payments and which bin goes out tomorrow.
There was no one else in here with us and the barman had resorted to reading a copy of a red topped daily paper. Time to think, what was I going to achieve here tonight and what did I have already to report upon? My thoughts were full of the girls who had gone to London to chase their dreams, especially Beth who's leaving had caused so much pain to two such lovely people. Didn't the girls have something to do with helping her leave? None of the current group look old enough to have been in the group when Beth left (going on the ability to legally enter the pub - that is if the locals and bar manager also observed this too) but Mary would have been around and could have ben the financial and moral support Beth would have needed; but I shouldn't jump to conclusions and I need to focus more on my primary objective.
A distraction came in the guise of a white coated chef with a large bowl of thick cut chips covered with vinegar (judging by the wonderful smell eminating from them with the steam and filling the room easily). My stomach guggled loudly as the bowl was sat down on the bar next to the young paper reading barman. The two men smilled at the sound which developed into a laugh when they saw my embarisment.
''Come over here lass.'' Said the barman, ''There are plenty too many for me, and I ate before coming to work. Please.'' the bowl was slid to the edge of the bar closest to me and he proffered me a long thick chip and thewn snatched it back towards his mouth and biting it quickly. He soon regretted it as he coughed out the steaming hot fried potatoe. I joined the chef in a stomach hurting laugh and took a place at the bar.
We were left alone by the chef who disappeared into the bowels of the public house. The barman was friendly, chating away about the funnier items found in todays paper and making me feel at ease. I didn't feel like he was chatting me up and he wasn't my usual type but I found myself leaning in and giving this young man more of my attention. He was ginger and thin with a tufty beard that if anything was more ginger than his head and might have looked better if the hair had covered more than 30% of his chin.
The conversation was artfully changed round to me in such a way I didn't even know I had started to divulge things about myself to this stranger, but as a guy once said when I asked him about the male perspective of chatting up techniques, get a girl talking about her favourite subject and you're halfway there. I asked what that was and he replied simply 'herself'. I started talking about London, about some of the areas in the newspaper articles and trying to bring local knowledge to educate him on some of the more obsuce stories. No there was not a crocodile chasing and RSPCA warden through that park and No, I doubt a rat the size of a dog took over a kebab shop by chasing the staff out. ( I did add, that knowing some kebab shop owners, it would take more than a rat of any size to scare them away from their posts. I once saw two elderly chefs chase out three knife carrying youths from their shop, who were intent on robbery, with kebab knives as long as their arms.
After I worked out I was now the primary contributer to this conversation I used the opportunity to artfully diverted it for my own purpose. O.K, not so artfully but I did a little laugh and pulled my top tighter to bring the secret weapons into play.
''I've come down from London chasing news stories of my own.'' I said noticing from his eye line he had taken the bait.
''The wild dogs thing.'' He said bringing his eyes up to meet mine.
''You think its a dog?'' I asked.
''You don't?'' He came back.
''I was hoping for a wild cat or a story of an escaped animal from a private estate or zoo.'' I said giving a wide eyed look straight at him. Unfortunatly either I had come on too strong or he wasn't used to continued female closeness because he turned his back to me and poured a drink from an optic hanging on the wall.
He turned back but this time took a position leaning against the back bar almost knocking the lemon slices into the ice bucket. The chips were almost gone and as I took the ast one I changed tact slightly.
''So what is the story here? There's been a couple of reports of mauled sheep and other animals and stories of large cats. Or.'' I said this last word in a stage whisper to encourage a psudo confidentuality before continuing, ''Are there witches in the woods performing Satanic rites?'' I laughted and my companion went white.
''I have work to do miss.'' He said and collected the bowl and paper and walked quickly out the the kitchen before I could cut him of with another word.
Story of my life, I thought and went back to my able and my drink.
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