The Yard. Pub and Dining Establishment
It is a fourteen minute walk to The Yard from the offices of the mill. It is a 25 minute drive from the mill to the office. Then I am home. I am welcomed by warm faces and cold beer that Bessy puts down in front of me.
A stool saved for my by a collection of dirty and hard faced drunk friends who are truer than any made another way then this daily gathering. A collection started up for Tom’s boy who broke his arm. Dragging you to your wife and warm bed when you tried to drink a hard day away.
Tricked into meaningful communication by talk in astonishingly small doses, A skimpy paycheck here, a cold shoulder from your women there. Sharing in small triumphs that make up the whole of your life. A smile from a pretty young girl when you were crossing the street, an extra blood sausage on your plate. Sharing the big ones that seem to come too few and far in between. Your son telling you you are going to be a grandfather, distant relation left something to you. Shared in glances and words. Replies given in buying another round.
These are my friends. No. This is my family. So it is with a heavy heart that I must leave you. What better way to tell let me know how much you will miss me than to say nothing. Empty stool and a cold beer waiting.
