are you drinking to get maudlin, or are you drinking to get numb?

Dear Marianne,

I had to go to Welwyn the other day, I thought it would be a sleepy place, and it was. I had a whole hour for lunch so I went in to the village centre for an innocent drink, but was dragged in to a kind of vortex for forty minutes, and only just managed to get back in time for work.

It all started down at the local pub... Now, I have had a number of different pub experiences in my life. The country - you're not from round here - pub experience, the ear bleeding - turn it up - club/pub experience, the city -only time to stand & drink - pub experience, the sports - you can ask us to get off the pool table but we fucking won't - bar experience, the cheeky irish chappy - let's sell them Guinness - pub experience, the faux drawing room - books on shelves, game of backgammon anyone? - pub experience, the families welcome - through the back next to the bogs smiley potato faces - pub experience, the physically dangerous - are you spilling your drink on me! - pub experience, the student - huge black hole beer too cheap desperate for a shag - experience, and the slightly smelly but local - can I cash a cheque - pub experience. But I have never experienced the thanks for your order - but I can't manage it - pub experience. Not until my visit to the centre of Welwyn that is.

This sleepy little village boasts five (could be more)pubs. I noticed a sports pub and a theme/stuff your face with deep fried food for less pub, amongst others, but I wanted a quiet time with a glass of wine and a sandwich. The Black Horse looked happily unassuming from the outside and I thought it might do the trick. It was a bit shabby inside and I hadn't banked on the huge TV screen delivering non stop soft rock videos, nevertheless I carried on.

I odered a white wine spritzer (slightly wanky drink for drivers and people on diets). Then I was lost in Welwyn for a while.

Me:Oh and is there food on?

Barman: I thought you were going to ask me that - no, nothing, but we were thinking of knocking through, but that's no good for you now is it.

Me: Not really, but I'll have the drink.

Ten minutes later the tension in the pub is palpabale. The barman is very red, he is also out of breath, having been up and down the stairs a couple of times.

Me:Everything all right?

Barman: No.(He showed me two bottle openers). This one broke last night and this one wont go into the cork.

He returned to the gently warming bottle and after some more pulling eventually opted for pushing. The cork went in but the wine wouldn't come out. I was running out of lunch time, and, though I hadn't been before, I was now desperate for a drink. The barman looked haunted and embarrassed. I mentioned that I might try another pub, this idea was warmly welcomed along with helpful suggestions on what might be the best place to get a white wine spritzer and a sandwich.

In another pub, the name of which escapes me, I just had time to throw down some liquid and a pie and then run back to work hot and bothered. Next time I go somewhere sleepy, I think I'll keep it easy, visit the local tea shop for a pot of Assam and a tea cake, I should be safe there shouldn't I, they haven't started to theme tea shops yet have they?

Rx