At The Bottom's Rest
A happy day. Lorraine up with the larks and off to her hairdresser. I did a bit of this, and then a bit of that, and then jumped on a bus and went off into town to meet my lovely and splendidly coiffured wife. Today was a day of trouser buying. I bought several pairs. I seem to buy trousers in batches, and my trousers were all coming to an undignified end. Looked somewhat paunchy in the changing room mirrors. After an orgy of trouser buying, off to Gars, where my Lorraine bought me lunch to celebrate my birthday. Good to sit down and chopstick down some Singapore noodles. I always enjoy Gars. Home not long after this, and a quiet snooze on the gold sofa before Dawn came, and we three surged out into a taxi. This took us to The Bottom's Rest, which is a fine pub tucked away in Hove where Rosie had booked a section of the pub for us to celebrate our birthdays. Bottom being the midsummer night's dream character, and not just a place to rest your posterior. Rosie had ordered a ...