The Most Startling Question I’ve Ever Been Asked

I’ll never set foot in a snooker hall again

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I’m sitting in a snooker hall, sipping stale coffee and moving the overcooked gunk around on my plate. I’ve got my laptop out and am pondering the next line for a character in my book.

But I can’t concentrate.

The table next to me has five men with five varying shades of ale on their table. By their noisy chat these aren’t their first beers today. My watch says 15:03 and I’m guessing they started drinking when the bar opened at noon.

There are other comments I can’t make out. I only know that they think these are the funniest things ever, by the way they rock their heads back and guffaw like demented hyenas.

It’s not their loudness that has caused my writer’s block, it’s when they suddenly went quiet, leaned in to each other and I overheard one of them whisper, “Ask her. Go on ask her.”

All heads turn to look at me.

I’m convinced I am the subject of their humour. It’s disconcerting. Men don’t often realise how intimidating they can be. Especially drunk men. In company. Egging each other on.

I push my food away. Lay my napkin on top of my plate to show the staff I have finished, despite hardly being touched. The…