These days it is very unusual for me and the old ‘trouble and strife’ to go out on a Saturday evening unless it is for some special occasion; but as the weather last Saturday was very pleasant, and there was bugger all on TV we decided to stroll to the pub for a couple of pints and then pick up a take-away from the nearby ‘Chinese’.
Now when I was a young man I would not have dreamed of going out on a Saturday night unless I was wearing a jacket, shirt and tie, pressed trousers and polished shoes. OK, so I know that those days are long gone, but I still considered changing into a smart shirt and a pair of lightweight pants.
“Don’t bother” said ‘she who must be obeyed’ .. “Just go as you are. No one will notice”.
So I did, and she was right, as I blended in perfectly in my shapeless T shirt, with it’s worn out print on the back advertising a French fishmonger, my baggy shorts and my old stained beach shoes. In fact I was probably one of the smartest people in the pub.
Most of those standing around the bar with pints in hand, were wearing sweaty sleeveless tops, exposing sunburned muscles, and various styles of shorts, cut to show off the tattoos on their hairy legs … and that was just the women !
Shaven heads and large bellies were much in evidence, so I felt quite at ease, although the lack of metal hanging from my ears, nose and eyebrows did rather mark me out as a bit of an imposter.
A few lads were sporting replica football shirts and I noticed that a couple of them were giving me funny looks as they sipped from their bottles of ‘Icehofbrewboombiermeisterpils’ or whatever it’s called. Then I realised that they had seen the back of my T shirt and were trying to remember if …
… ‘Poissonnerie’ played for Marseille or Montpellier.
bigjohn 
