Wednesday, June 07, 2006
I Saved Clark's Bar
The heat-wave is relentless. We slept with the window wide open last night and with the glow of the moon crescent beaming down on us. Not normal behaviour for Scotland - I felt like I was holidaying in the Med!
That's where I will soon be. In only a matter of weeks we will be flying off to sunny Limassol in Cyprus for a two week break. Cannae wait. But before then there is lots to do including my sister getting married and my annual trip to Blackpool. July is going to be a busy month.
But enough forward looking and back to today. By 9am I was sweating my man-breasts off thanks to the spiralling heat-wave. It was not conducive to a productive working day, only sleep and day-dreaming.
On my way home from work while going to the ATM to get some money, I happened to pass Clark's Bar. A slight rise of broken smoke was rising from within one of the metal cigarette disposers attached to the wall, a common sight around Scotland since the introduction of the smoking ban (the metal container, not the smoke).
On my return from the cash machine, the smoke was substantially greater and on smelling it, I noted it was of burning paper, and not as I had thought, the last remnants of a discarded cigar.
I popped into the bar and informed Linda that her fag disposer was on fire. She grabbed the water pourer, more commonly used for topping up whisky, and threw it on the now raging inferno that had developed inside the box. More water was called for before the fire was finally exterminated.
"You might just have save Clark's Bar," said Linda.
"Any chance of a free pint then?" I pondered.
"Not on yer nelly," she confirmed.
Ah - good old Clark's!
That's where I will soon be. In only a matter of weeks we will be flying off to sunny Limassol in Cyprus for a two week break. Cannae wait. But before then there is lots to do including my sister getting married and my annual trip to Blackpool. July is going to be a busy month.
But enough forward looking and back to today. By 9am I was sweating my man-breasts off thanks to the spiralling heat-wave. It was not conducive to a productive working day, only sleep and day-dreaming.
On my way home from work while going to the ATM to get some money, I happened to pass Clark's Bar. A slight rise of broken smoke was rising from within one of the metal cigarette disposers attached to the wall, a common sight around Scotland since the introduction of the smoking ban (the metal container, not the smoke).
On my return from the cash machine, the smoke was substantially greater and on smelling it, I noted it was of burning paper, and not as I had thought, the last remnants of a discarded cigar.
I popped into the bar and informed Linda that her fag disposer was on fire. She grabbed the water pourer, more commonly used for topping up whisky, and threw it on the now raging inferno that had developed inside the box. More water was called for before the fire was finally exterminated.
"You might just have save Clark's Bar," said Linda.
"Any chance of a free pint then?" I pondered.
"Not on yer nelly," she confirmed.
Ah - good old Clark's!
Colin 9:19 pm