The privilege of shandies
One last idea sent off and the plight of European dogs, was no longer my affair for a while. Feeling oddly twitchy and out of sorts this morning, but the day fairly productive nevertheless. Beth off teaching in a local school this afternoon and she called me on the way home, wondering if I fancied a pint in the Preston Park Tavern. I examined my soul and discovered that a pint of bitter shandy in the sun at 5.30 was actually exactly what I wanted. So good in fact I had two more over the course of a couple of hours. While we were supping it we saw some guys working on the scam where they go door to door with a bucket of cloths and domestic cleaners at an inflated price and claim they are on a work experience. One of them was swearing unpleasantly at a shopkeeper across the road because he'd asked him for ID when he wanted to buy drink. His mate, having seen that we had noticed what they were up to, walked past and as I glanced at him shouted that I couldn't see what was in h...