I hate people and shit coffee

Our First trip away to Chester. 

You booked and paid for the hotel. If I remember, you paid for most things on that trip. Although, I did pay for my return train ticket. 

I met you on the train with two Costa coffees.

You weren’t feeling too good. You were feeling anxious but I didn’t know this at the time I thought you were acting up.

After one train then a rail replacement bus service that took us to another train station so we can get another train. We finally arrive at our destination.

The Hotel you booked is top notch. We get shown to our room which is something out of this world.

However we’re a bit pissed as the room you booked had a picture of Oscar Wilde on the wall. And this one, is of some old guy with a handle bar mustache that is class but who’s name has escaped me.

We go out for some food. I tell you about a place a friend has highly recommended. So we go in search for the pub in question.

After a few wrong turns and poor google map readings from myself we finally arrive at the pub.

The food is basic – microwave grub. The ale is cheap tho. We eat our nuked food and neck our drinks and head back to the hotel.

Back at the room. You call for room service and ask for an ice bucket to cool the un-refrigerated bottles of Pinot. That we bought from bargain booze on the way back from the Nuke Ale House.

The next morning.

We went for breakfast, which was extra and you also paid for.

The Maitre D gets us a table and asks whether we would like tea or coffee. We both asked for coffee. As we both took a sip, you put the cup down in disgust. To which you said with your volume button set to normal.

I hate shit coffee.

We head out so that you can buy yourself a new dress. You wanted to look nice for our meal and believe me you did.

Once back at the hotel to rest our feet from over sight seeing. I book a table at some place we both liked the look of online. Because after the day walking around shopping we’re both burnt out from interacting with people.

You order another an ice bucket from room service. To try and get the toasty Pinot down to a cool enjoyable drinkable temperature.

As you begin to get ready you’re reluctant to let me see you without makeup. Don’t look at me I’m hideous”.

You’re not I tell you. You didn’t.

I said wait a minute I’ve got something in my bag for you.

In a nervous smile. “You haven’t?” you say.

Unsure about what you meant. I went and grabbed the lush bath bomb I had bought for you as a gift. You said “Thank god. I thought you were gonna propose”.

Fuck me I was crazy about you. I mean who wouldn’t be even without your eyebrows on. I wear my heart on my sleeve and it was early days. I was still debating if you were the one. Of course you were the one. I’m just being a twat.

We head to the restaurant. I get the directions on google maps. We get lost, again.

We agree in future and for our relationship to work and succeed that I can no longer be trusted to be in charge of directions. I blame Google.

We arrive at the restaurant. A place with no light bulbs, well not in use anyway. Some light up the bar area but other than that the place is lit by tea lights.

The meal is fantastic. The service is even better we are left to eat. The only interruption is when they removed the clean plates from the table.

None of this, “Is everything okay with your meal?” Waiting for a reply when you have a mouth stuffed full of food.

We contemplate going for a few more drinks. We walk past several bars but we think against it. Its heaving, full to the brim of people who are loud and have more front than Blackpool.

Heading back to the hotel. Not before picking up a few bottles of Pinot and some snacks. You ask me to keep dixie. You go in a closed shop doorway. So that you can take your stockings off because they kept falling down.

The next day on the way home. Back to normality. We get into Liverpool there’s some street artist jumping through rings of fire.

Loads of people have gathered. All clapping. Its cringing.

You turn to me.

Look at me with those beautiful wolf like eyes and say,

I Hate People

 

Luwan’s Voice

The loud noise that woke me up came from downstairs.

It was from the TV, it was Luwan’s annoying voice. She was the mother of her sons youtube channel, Ryan’s Toy review.

Her voice sounded like a high pitched screech – nails down a black board.

For the TV to come on so early, it couldn’t be my wife, she also detests that show.

It could only be one person – my daughter.

She’s up early again. It’s not even light outside and the clocks haven’t gone back yet so I’m guessing its around 5ish.

I’m dreading going down, she’ll have the remote and she’ll be like Gollum if I try to take it from her.

Can’t be arsed getting into an argument, it’s too early for that shit. However I don’t wanna watch the programme either.

As much as I’d prefer to stay in bed spooning the lady. My daughter can’t be left unattended for too long also Luwan’s air raid siren voice isn’t getting any quieter. I’m awake.

Best go downstairs I’m going for the second option which involves lolling on the sofa.

If I grab myself a coffee maybe just maybe it could save me until the sun comes up.

No Drags Allowed

Spark up or not to spark up?
Smoking in pubs is a past time. Now I‘m not talking about having a suck on your vape – creating a smokey fruit mist when you exhale. No, I’m talking about proper smoking. The mist that you get from smoking a tobacco scented cancer stick. Smoking which eventually makes you cough up one of your lungs.

Good old days…

The room itself was filled with smoke that forever changed shape and direction as it made its way through and around the punters. The whole place engulfed by smog, as if  someone had set off a gas grenade.

At 16. Sitting in the local with my drinking buddy. The floor still sticky from yesterdays dried up vomit. We’d drunkenly mider the hours away and as we did, there would be a super king slowly burning down in the rest of the ashtray.

Smoking Ban Ruined the local!

A landlord named Hamish protested so that his regulars could keep smoking within his establishment. However, this was met with the law coming down hard on this Pro Smoking activist.

Health dogmatic freaks and the government ruined what was once a place of sanctuary.
Had an argument with your other half?
PUB!
Fancy a quick one?
PUB!

Got bills to pay? Fuck’em, PUB!
Once the smoking ban took over. And punters were only permitted to smoke outside or in designated smoking areas. It royally fucked the Pub culture.
It was soon replaced by this eatery chain bollocks. pseudo Gin bars and micro pubs for the alcohol know-it-all enthusiasts.

I say bring back smoking inside Pubs!!

But proper smoking, cool smoke; smoke that’s produced from a coffin dodging old timers tobacco pipe.

Smoke that’s from a cigar, that’s resembles E.T’s glowing finger.

Smoke that’s coming from the last strained drags left before the butt.
And if there’s people who are health conscious, then its simple.

Do Not Enter.
Go to your cigarette free, fruity vape pseudo places.
But Leave the local alone.