Member-only story
It’s midday, so it’s a surprise to find myself in the pub when I should be at work. I tell the landlord as he pours me my pint that I didn’t feel like going in today. So after watching TV for a few hours, I came here.
He shrugs. More business for him he says politely as he hands me my drink. But I can tell by the way he clumsily places my pint down on the beermat that he doesn’t give a shit. Why should he? I’m just another shadow drifting in, like all the other old-timers who sit at the bar like brooms until closing time.
After taking a few sips, I go through to the lounge area to be on my own away from the tiresome conversation of the bar. It’s a small, square room with four tables surrounded by cheaply upholstered, leatherette benches with a few stools in the middle to fill the spaces.
I’m about to flick open my paper to read about the local crime wave everybody’s talking about, when I see it. On the bench opposite me is a watch.
I wait a few minutes to see if anyone is coming back to get it. Then stand up, walk over to the other side of the room, pick it up and return to my seat. I’ve never worn a watch in my life and realise why people do, especially one as elegant as this. The dial is big and bold and says…
