Beef stroganoff in Hawkley ...

They've run out of Bedlam Richard sighed - 

I raised my straight glass of Darkstar - 

The man in the black tracksuit left the bar to smoke outside - 

We'd seen him arrive earlier - he had the look of an assassin - he chilled the air he walked through -

We sat at a table of pale unvarnished wood - later a girl lit the candles in a three branched candlestick - there was a moose head fixed to the wall above the fireplace - 

Richard said the Proper Job was acceptable - 

The bar smelt very faintly of wood smoke - 

I wondered what strange songs were sung around the upright piano - 

We dined on beef stroganoff like two of Napoleon's gallopers - 

Darkness moved over the green fields -  

I slept under white linen, dreaming of eating figs in a fragrant meadow -  

23.00

Wednesday 3 June 2015

The Hawley Inn

Hawkley