Having viewed nearly every monument, museums and gallery we decided an afternoon mingling with the locals at the 'Ship and Shovel' was in order. Pints were consumed, some dodgy pork scratchings with pig hairs still attached were delivered to our table and a man resembling a walking corpse shat himself at the bar, he seemed to have a TIA (a minor stroke); however, this was not going to stop him drinking his pint, even when the paramedics arrived. He rebuffed the paramedics, telling them it was nothing and all the time he dribbled and faecal liquid fell first on one chair and then another. The notion of a Responsible Service of Alcohol was scoffed by all as unbritish.
As we made our way from the Ship and Shovel we donned our many layers and said our goodnight to all and sundry.
Lea's observation of a lady's dress sense at the bar: 'if it does not look good before breakfast, don't wear it, love.'
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