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The Third String.

Tales from a Dagda Bard

26/11/2016 0 Comments

The World from a Snug

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The loose leaves hustled in passed the doorman without showing their ID.
Gambolling about gaily on the gusts of an autumn wind, they set to a spin in the open area of the pub's entrance, a riot of orange and yellow.

I gave a nod to the guy standing wrapped up against the oncoming winter chill and followed the leaves in. The pub was quite busy for the afternoon. Regulars propped up in spaces almost fit solely to them, families enjoying the social space and food menus, couples leaning in to one another ignoring the rest of the world about them.


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