Pubs eh. Not the same. I like pubs. Those that remain. The pubs of my youth, no food but crisps, crowded, noisy with the sound of talk, not televisiona and piped music. Cigarette smoke pooling in the ceiling, cigarette packets out on the table. Carpets to stick to. A landlady who shook the walls when she shouted time. Pubs in back streets, pubs on housing estates, pubs on corners, pubs standing alone on old bomb sites. I cannot give you a cocktail recipe.

I am in a pub.