Scottish John

John was Scottish; he came to the pub every weekday and sat on a tall chair at the end of the bar. He was a very gentle man. He wore a green sweater and pink smile. He had a red nose, which he always talked through. I’m not sure what age he was when I knew him but he was once youthful and bursting with life. Every night he would have three and a half pints, climb down from his stool and leave the pub.
John didn’t have to walk far to get home, his flat was just past the shop and above the cab station. He had lived in this town for a long time. It had undoubtedly changed a great deal over the years. This was not a problem for John, he was happy with change; he understood things in life had to move forward. I think this was one of the reasons he decided to drink in the pub I worked. It was always full of young people and was bursting with life.

Patrick's Day

I’m half Irish and until St Patrick’s Day I’d never had a pint of Guinness. I am a poor student who works in a shit pub in the arse end of the planet. A good drinker I know comes into the pub and says to me. “ Cunt, do you want a pint of Guinness”
“I don’t drink Guinness; I’ll have a pint of Stella”
“You Cunt, its St Patrick’s Day you can’t drink Stella. I thought you were half Irish”
“I am half Irish, and I can drink what ever the fuck I want”
“Look Cunt, if you drink Guinness with me all day I’ll pay for it, I know you’re a deprived student and have no money, also I think you have really pretty blues eyes”
“Oh my god!! Are you a homo?”
“Fuck off Cunt, the pretty blue eyes thing was a joke, what time do you finish?”
“In an hour”
I poured myself my first pint of Guinness. It tasted like shit. After four pints I started to warm to it. I drunk Guinness all weekend and I’m having one now.
I never saw that man again, but if you’re out there, I just want to say “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you”. I love Guinness xxxx