New Year’s Day 2003

I found my way to Lindsey’s pub, only eight hours late. It’s really just a barn, but the liberal application of labels, beer coolers, underwear and money, over a period of seventy years, has turned it into an artefact.

The Daley Waters Pub is famous. Bill Bryson was here. Tourists arrived in buses while I was there. Unfortuntely for Lindsey, they tend to goggle rather than guzzle, but he’s not complaining.

You can just about pick him out from the dazzling array. It’s like one of those colour blindness tests. Heaven only knows what it would be like with double vision. I didn’t stay long enough to find out.