So our pub has finally joined the rest of 34 pubs a week closures in the UK. It was a tiny part of English history. We are losing pubs, and government and NHS would put other things before this tradition of the country. Well, that's fine, I guess that's healthy.
We are down to almost nothing in the end. The pub was sold to the Asian folks who would take it over and change it to a posh curry house. They did not want to take stocks over, so basically everything had to go. Fosters 2 quid, no bitter, no diet Pepsi, quid a shot if we have it.
Everyone said, "Oh that is a shame," what else would anyone say? People just stayed for hours like a lingering odour. What else do you want to do in a lazy Sunday afternoon in a pub that's closing down forever in a few hours?
Girls were exchanging phone numbers. I got a few, too. And some more from customers (sorry but I will never call you.) Girls were making promises to keep in touch, I am well aware they will never been met. I hugged a couple of them good bye, because I liked them well enough, even though I was fairly sure that one of them was hitting on me.
Daughter of the owner and her friends came, ate ice cream, had some wines, and eventually left. It really was getting to be over.
I sat down with the owner, with a glass of red, in a semi darkness, I was crying because I was grateful to be there at that moment. It is a shame, and we must move on, and I will remember that moment fondly, because it was part of us, that was on the way out, complete out.
Good bye FOX. Thanks for everything.
