I'm about to head-off to the pub. Perhaps that's not a very remarkable statement to you, and indeed, not five or six years ago, it might have been a statement I'd have uttered two or three times a day. But at my current stage of life, visiting the pub on a Sunday afternoon is somewhat of a foreign experience ... and I'll admit to being a little nervous.
I wonder what happens at the pub these days? Will we nonchalantly drink our beer at a ridiculous pace in order to passive-aggressively assert our manliness over our friends and their girlfriends? Will we all fall over ourselves to reach the bar before each other in order to buy more jugs of beer before the ones we have are even empty? Will we stand on the tables, crushing ashtrays and knocking glasses over as we shout Irish rebel songs to unknown women across the thoroughfare? Will we spill beer all over ourselves and walk around looking as though we've wet ourselves? Will we wet ourselves?
I really don't know what happens at the pub these days, but I am hoping that my years of training have prepared me such that I'll be able to blend right in.
This was too good to pass-up; this pic that came up on a Google Images search for 'beer'. The source is The Tele (http://www.dailytelegraph.com.au) ... need I say more?
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