Friday Jollity

I was at the Dirty Duck Ale House in Holywood, County Down, for the first time in ages last night. I was greeted by a blazing fire and my friends had already arrived.

We dined upstairs last night, at a window table overlooking Belfast Lough. I had the duck, which was served sliced atop a kind of lentil mixture; and, although it was not a massive portion, I did find it tasty.

BP had his usual scampi and chips (he left a few crumbs at the conclusion, viz. several chips and some salad, which I scooped up!); and B, BP's better half, had the salmon.

When we had finished, we were politely reminded that our table was booked for another sitting, so we took the cue and retired to the downstairs bar, where self indulged in yet more Bombay and tonic-water.

I had cycled down to the railway station earlier and left the trusty two-wheeler near the platform; however, I need not have purchased a return ticket because I hitched a lift in the taxi with the others as far as the railway halt beside the Sydenham by-pass.