Stag & Hounds, Iver, Buckinghmashire   Leave a comment

 

I left work at 4 on Friday intending to do an A to Z run (next one is “P”) but traffic had another idea and I didn’t reach Hillingdon until after 6.  Still wanting to do about 5 miles, I headed west toward Iver where I still had the Stag and Hounds to visit.

Running in, I ordered a Fosters while the guy sitting at the bar a few inches away described me to the barmaid standing in front of me.  “So, then he comes in here red-faced and sweat dripping from his nose and orders a beer!  What do you think of that?”  She gave him a look as if to say, “Oh, Barry, you’re a moron,” but only spoke to me to take my money and give me directions to the garden.

 

 

The garden was heaving with people in various states of undress.  “I won’t be best pleased if I don’t turn red,” remarked one shirtless guy with translucent — or, at least, pigment-free — skin.  I found a shady spot and watched the constant flow of skin go by.  It wasn’t pleasant, but you couldn’t look away, either (like watching a catastrophe).  Mind you, I’m not sure looking away would have improved the visuals, anyway.

 

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Posted May 29, 2017 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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