Friday, March 09, 2007

The Old Tom

After the first pub refused to serve us (not enough staff to man the kitchen or so she said), we had lunch at The Old Tom. It felt just like coming home. The food was the best we had in England, before or since. The staff were friendly and intellectual discussions permeated the air. We returned the next day for lunch roast. The beer was fresh, the staff friendly, and most importantly, the kitchen open.

My companion had finally found minutes to top up her phone. Eager to get in touch with friends in Scotland, she texed her greetings while leaving the pub. She stumbled on the steps in front of a group of people going in. Mild laughter ensued and someone commented that the quality of the beer must be good here. In my usual unthinking way, I blurted out that she wasn't drunk, just texting. Embarrassed but amused, we continued on; my companion didn't stop texting until we were at the end of the block; even when she tripped on a bit of uneven pavement.

1 comment:

Jenshine said...

Wow, I remember it being a lot less graceful than that. But, you paint it in a pretty picture, and I am a-okay with that! Anything that puts me in a better light when I'm falling on my ass is just fine by me.

But really...that fall hurt! In more ways than one.