This evening, Simon insisted that we watch the Ajax-Arsenal game. Unfortunately for Mr. Goater, I didn’t have tickets to the match, or a seat on an aeroplane to Holland. The only way we could watch the match would be to find a pub showing it. All the pubs near me have either no Sky subscription (The Dolphin – my local), have been closed down (The Weston) or are occupied by strange locals (The New Crown).

We did ponder with the idea of going to town. After thinking further into this though, decided against it – Saturday night. Bath city centre. Drunks. Yobs. Vomit and urine on streets… Best keep it local.

I assured Simon that there would be a pub in Weston Village which would be showing the match. He believed me and agreed to go. It was an unexpectedly long walk from my flat to the village – we may as well have walked to The Netherlands! When we did arrive, my original choice of pub had been converted into what looked like an Over 21’s Gentlemen’s Club. Unsurprisingly, they were not showing the football.

We eventually found a pub with Sky – a nice one too. It was very homely and actually felt as if you were sitting inside somebody’s living room. There was a rather disturbing man at the bar who was convinced he knew me. He was pissed off his skull, but still insisted in making conversation. When I finally plucked up the courage to ask who the hell he was, he told me “We’re mates, we see each other around the place… just to say ‘Hi’ to… you know…” No, I don’t know. I have NEVER seen him before in my life. I must be honest, I was more than a tad scared.

 
A very homely pub. I was half expecting Aunt Bessie to come out with the Yorkshire puddings.