Dirty Duck Tuck!

I am steadily recovering from a hearty evening spent at the DD with BP. I rode the Proprietary Belmont Two-Wheeler down to the railway halt and chained it to a lamp-post, as usual.

Like Holywood, the DD was remarkably quieter than usual when we arrived. we found seats easily. BP supped the customary DD Ale; while Timothy Belmont sipped Bombay Sapphire with tonic-water.

The grub was as good as ever: I donned the feed-bag for the breast of duck with Parmesan croquettes, French beans and onion chutney; while BP opted for - indeed - scampi, again!

Incidentally, they seem to have opened a chip shop in the town, called the Ruddy Duck Fish House; has anyone tried it yet?

While BP left the bar for a few minutes, I began chatting to a lady - a "regular" - on her own. We'd see her most Saturdays and it transpires that she is a lovely person. We bought her a sweet sherry.

The evening progressed and the DD filled up. A live band began at about ten-thirty. We decided to stay for the duration and get a taxi home.

Consequently, at about a quarter past one this morning, I made for the halt and retrieved the trusty two-wheeler.