‘Where will I meet you?’
‘The usual spot, round 6’
The door always difficult to open with the wind, but the warmth hits you in the face. Removing the scarf as the order is placed ‘pint, please’.
The establishment will be right if they know this order is with no further explanation. The look around the room after the order determines the nature of the clientele. A nod, a smile and a wave and all the hellos are said. No need for more.
Money and small words are exchanged with the barman as the pint takes it’s time to be ready. The clouds are settling. The fire is crackling. The dark and cold outside forgotten.
The rumours and legends why the pour is split, it adds to the mystery if not the flavour. Hunger is the best sauce they say. Good things come to those who wait.
The pour is topped and laid to the side, ready for my hand. My palm gently nestles around the glass, the creamy head should overflow yet it just hangs there, floating above the rim. Settle petal.
Find a table and a stool, near the flickering flames warm the soul. What better way to spend a cold winters evening? James will be here any minute and the conversation will flow, before that a taste, a sup and a glup.
Somehow it is thick yet light, a contradiction of viscosity.
Rich deep chocolate and roasted coffee present themselves then disappear. It hasn’t changed. A constant to evoke memories and make new ones by.
Ah, here is James, ‘two more’ it is.
Happy Christmas 🙂