The debonair Basil Marigold's

I am sat in a pub tonight, not any old pub, but the pub. The one I used to frequent, a lot. It used to be the best and busiest pub in the bay. It used to be standing only, even in weekdays. I am sat alone tonight. There is no one really here, yet the same music is playing on the jukebox that we used to play. Except when we played it, it was new music. I can still look out of the windows and see the lights dance on the bay outside, the view will never change, i have. For example, this is my third drink in two days. I uses to be able to do three in twenty minutes, here, in this town any way. I could spend the night watching the ghosts of memories and people in this pub, walking past that bar, uttering the same conversation we used to have. I first met the girlfriend my wife saw for the first and probably, only ever time yesterday, in passing. She was a huge part of my life, for a time. It was a strange experience. I used to be able to walk into this pub alone but then drink with co

me, that's who. After my daughter locked me out of the back door. In the cold winters evening as I wore a t shirt, as I nipped out to put the rubbish out as my wife was upstairs changing the giant baby. As I knocked on the door my daughter, being ever the fount of initiative then disappears to help out. She then appears at the back door, squishes her face against the glass and smiles, a knowing smile, a proud and clever smile as she then attempts to help daddy by opening the back door by using a plastic fork to try and turn the lock. At this point she then disappears to tie some bows around the legs of the boys highchair, while smiling at me. Cold is obviously defeated by making bows! I knock on the window and she ambles to the door again. I say to her, 'go and get mummy'. She smiles again, and repeats parrot like, 'mummy' and them I stand and watch through the window as she then approaches the downstairs baby gate. Picks up her ikea step places in front of the