Sunday, 13 February 2011

bridges


We were sitting together in the pub with the Speckled Hen.

Upstairs.

It was a London pub but the sofas has printed signs “reserved for Elizabeth and her party”, so we’d taken a table by the stairs. The wall behind me had one of those full-size Abbey Road Beatles pictures on it. I still check to see whether Paul is holding a cigarette (he was).

We’d decided it was about time, as ‘Chelle says, “ to (G)walk (D9) across that(C) burning (D) bridge” and meet up with one another after a considerable time.

The good thing was, it was easy to pick up like (almost) no gap.

Always good.

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