After spending the morning shopping for badly needed shoes to replace my holey -- and therefore no longer rainworthy -- boots, I met my partner for lunch at a city centre pub. When Andrew glanced through the trendy menu at the Yorkshire Grey and decided he felt like a more classic pub lunch, we quietly retreated and walked across the road to the Roebuck Tavern. Situated near the Registry Office and the Winter Gardens, the Roebuck was crowded and noisy on this particular December lunchtime. Since it was a couple of weeks before Christmas, or what I've come to call Xmess, was it the pre-Xmess rush or just a messy pre-X rush? Somehow we managed to find a free table and because quickly hemmed in by a large mob of loud, wiggling youths next to us who appeared to be suffering from either a rampant nervous disorder, a communal sugar rush, or perhaps just worms as they continually stood up and sat down around their table in a sort of pogoing version of Musical Chairs. Ah, but good things come to those who wait, and the gyrating experiment in perpetual motion finally retreated from the pub just as our food arrived. Our jacket potatoes were pleasant and calming, and our pints of Stones (3.7% ABV, Bass Brewers Ltd., Burton-upon-Trent, Staffordshire) were good middle-of-the-road pints, "middle-of-the-road" referring to the taste and character as opposed to anything political or traffic-oriented. |