Arriving we saw three hunched over old regulars at the bar, one horizontally enhanced woman, two screens playing football and a barman. We ordered drinks and trundled off to the far wall, finding a place to sit down on two scrawled up leather couches (Wayne if you're reading this, someone with the initials V.H. left a message to say "you is well fit").
To give you an overview of the evenings entertainment, the main highlights were me knocking my pint over and a young lady walking through to use the rest-room.
With times as hard as they are, I'm not sure how long these places have left. Sure it was nice enough with good service and all, but it was a bit like an old retirement home. After these regulars go, who's left?
A very spacey pub, on the outskirts of Richmond. While it was not very busy there were a few in to watch the football but quietened down after it was over. This meant very prompt service at the bar and even when there was some spillage asking for some napkins to clear it up, the bloke came over to mop up the table and clear the empties.
An otherwise uneventful evening if you don’t count the car talk between Ollie and Omar, and the downloading and playing of Wolfenstein on my phone by Alex.
|Pub facilities / features: |
*Might be a lie
|Pint of Fosters, 2 x J2O, pint of Youngs: |
Alex - 6.0
Andrew - 6.1
Oliver - 6.5