Merry Bloody Christmas by Scott Ellie

Author:Scott, Ellie [Scott, Ellie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: amazon, Humor
ISBN: 9781730741258
Google: DZETvgEACAAJ
Amazon: B07K356NY9
Publisher: Independently Published
Published: 2018-10-29T23:00:00+00:00

14. A Festive Tipple

The Coach and Horses is always quiet on Christmas Eve. Save for a few three-decade-old Christmas decorations hung from the ceiling and the occasional play of White Christmas on the jukebox, festive cheer is scarce. And that’s exactly how the regulars like it.

It’s a pub which offers punters light relief from the gaudy, excessive excitement of the annual festivities. Men call in for a couple of pints and, more importantly, some peace and quiet in an environment where seasonal cheer isn’t rammed down their throats. The trusty pub provides respite from giddy grandchildren and tense wives who are manically preparing for tomorrow’s Christmas roast. It’s a safe haven from inane conversation at busy parties. It’s an opportunity to escape from mince pie-scented candles and fairy lights which flash so brightly that they can sear the eyeballs and cause lifelong corneal scars.

The Coach and Horses is aged and dim, and it suits its clientele perfectly. The carpet and décor have adorned the place for over five decades. Multiple bulbs have blown in the lights and lamps which are scattered about the room, creating a shadowy, subdued atmosphere that keeps potential party seekers far away from its doors. From the outside, in fact, the pub appears so dark and dingy that the uninitiated assume it’s closed and walk right past it. Both the landlord and the regular customers are happy with that arrangement.

Most of the punters sit alone at separate tables, serenely nursing their pints. Those who do arrive in pairs or trios sit together in comfortable silence. Some play cards or dominos, but little commentary accompanies their games. It’s not that the Coach and Horses regulars are hostile people; they simply value a moment of tranquillity in their loud, busy lives.

Everybody who drops into the Coach and Horses on Christmas Eve is a regular patron. All but one. For this particular punter, Christmas Eve is the one and only day of the year when he graces the pub with his presence. He always arrives just in time for last orders, and every time he requests a beverage that, for anybody else, the landlord would refuse to concoct.

As the clock turns a quarter to eleven, the landlord retrieves a glass and prepares his ingredients. Right on cue, the gentleman slips quietly through the pub’s front door and approaches the bar, looking as ruddy-cheeked and dishevelled as he does every year. He wears his usual getup of faded, tatty jeans, a motheaten cream knitted jumper, and chunky black leather boots. He gives the landlord a short nod and takes a seat on one of the bar stools.

‘The usual is it, sir?’

The man nods and the landlord sets to work filling a cocktail shaker with ice.

‘Has 2018 treated you well?’

With a long sigh, the man smooths down his white and grey beard with a hand which looks as though it has been exposed to far too many cold, wintry nights. Then he nods.

‘You’ve some rosy cheeks on you – already been on the sauce?’ the landlord asks, just as he does every year.

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