I don’t often go to the pub these days except when I’m away with friends. But yesterday I went for a pint and a whisky in the “Farmers Bar” of a local hotel. It’s usually quiet there…the farmers are too busy I suspect…and I wanted a bit of time to reflect on things.
The only people in there were an old lady and a man, also not young, who turned out to be her son. The man I had seen regularly on the streets nearby our house, and had got in the habit of saying hello to, even though the response always seemed gruff. He hadn’t got a very Friendly Face to my mind.
But appearances, as they say, can be misleading. The time for reflection went out the window, as I had a lovely chat with him and his mother. They came across as very kind hearted people and the man with the unfriendly face turned out to have a name, like everybody else.
And he is, it turns out, really quite friendly.