For me, No.1 is the Tabard. In 1970 I met a girl Saturday night at the Charade. I was completely smitten and arranged to meet her at the Tabard Sunday night. I had no money for bus fares so walked from the Bridge Inn where I lived all the way in an absolute downpour. She was there with her sister. I spent my last penny on a half of lager each for them and much to the landlord's disgust nothing for me. Sat there for ages barely talking. They finished their drinks and looked at me expectantly. I fled to the gents. On my return she'd gone and the sister said; 'She thinks you're boring and wants to finish.' That was it. The end of my first great love. Brokenhearted I trudged home in the rain. Can't pass the Tabard without it all flooding back.
No.2 is the Plough in a Godforsaken dump called Galgate where I had the misfortune to be stuck for a couple of years in the mid 70s. I'm at the bar alone minding my own business when a young lad comes up and says 'My mother reckons you're giving her funny looks.' I politely tell him to clear off whereupon he punches me in the face. We grapple, falling to the floor and exchanging desultory blows before the landlord steps in. 'Right, you' he says to me, 'Get out, you're barred.' I ask, 'Why me? He started it.' The landlord, upholding the finest British traditions of fair play and natural justice, retorts; 'I can't bar him, he's on the darts team.'
It is indeed. I must have seen you and the great g without knowing it. I loved the place although the stairs were a bit dodgy. Luckily I was on good terms with Dave the owner so the bouncers desisted from throwing me down them.
For me, No.1 is the Tabard. In 1970 I met a girl Saturday night at the Charade. I was completely smitten and arranged to meet her at the Tabard Sunday night. I had no money for bus fares so walked from the Bridge Inn where I lived all the way in an absolute downpour. She was there with her sister. I spent my last penny on a half of lager each for them and much to the landlord's disgust nothing for me. Sat there for ages barely talking. They finished their drinks and looked at me expectantly. I fled to the gents. On my return she'd gone and the sister said; 'She thinks you're boring and wants to finish.' That was it. The end of my first great love. Brokenhearted I trudged home in the rain. Can't pass the Tabard without it all flooding back.
I think it was the 70s rather than the pub or the girl.
