I complained about pubs being empty the other day. Not so the Marble Arch. When I picked E up off the train, we popped in for one, but were hardly able to squeeze in the door. It was full of happy and happily pissed people enjoying the various beers on offer.
We stayed for one. My pint of the ludicrously named "Pint" was fine, as was E's half of Manchester Bitter. Two thoughts occurred to me as we fled. Thank goodness smoking was banned and why do drunks converse with each other at the top of their voices?
E remarked in the car - "That's probably how our table at the THT sounds on a Sunday". Um. Yes. Probably!
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