The Fin Fest took place in the Knights Templar pub in London on Friday 7 February. It was a chance to meet friends, colleagues, from a long time ago, but I missed it. Because I was having a leisurely lunch with some of those friends and it took rather longer than we anticipated. One of our number is losing his hearing, so he didn’t want to go into the very noisy pub where he would not be able to understand a word said to him. I wasn’t that keen to go to the pub because it is owned by arch-Brexiter Mr Martin; and anyway it was very pleasant eating and drinking in the Natural Kitchen restaurant, although the bill turned out to be a bit of a stinger . . .
The night shot is of the pub next to the church in our village. It is often the case, it seems, that the churchgoer can visit the pub after church; on the other hand there used to be a rule in devout communities that you couldn’t visit a pub unless you were a traveller, and a traveller was someone who had travelled at least three miles. So if a pub was at least three miles from any other habitation, every visitor was a “bona fide traveller” (see Playboy of the Western World by Synge).