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.