How times change

The other day I made time for a visit to my favourite pub.

I’m not going to tell you the name ‘cause I know hoards of you read this and I don’t want you dashing around there in your hundreds and spoiling it.

I will give a clue though to those who may already be regulars – they do the best, biggest ploughman’s lunch in the world and its not too far from Romsey down a little country lane.

Do you know where it is yet?

More clues – the pub décor can’t have changed for quite some time, there is a piano in the corner and the tables and chairs are all unique.

A real old style country pub.

Well, I was sitting there enjoying a pint of Butser (another clue) when in walks three chaps around 60 ish, country accents and normal country clothes. They get their pints and sit down.

Then I start to pick up on their conversation. Is it about the right time to pull beet, how to change the big wheel on their Massey, what to do with a lamb with foot rot?

No it’s all about the size of their hard drive and if Google is better than Yahoo.

I could not help but think of the pub conversations which must have taken place in this very bar for years and what all those ‘old boys’ would have made of the modern day counterparts.

‘Wots eh say Bert’