So we went to the Kingston Arms, sat in what Alistair thought was a pleasant garden (for which read a crowded patio enclosed by poorly creosoted fencing and inconsiderate smokers) with a pint of Hop Back Summer Lightning and ordered our food.

And then a dozen Morris dancers entered the garden, with two women playing accordion and very large sticks to knock together. I was transported to a surreal plane, where prancing old men constitute a tuneful summer entertainment. We left at closing time, heads ringing - but was that the beer?

Posted by nathan at June 6, 2003 08:23 PM

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