More like David Mitchell than Churchill, I think
The run progressed from the Woodshaw, around the town centre, and back down the Swindon road toward my bus stop, a net 3.4 miles but with the stop at the Churchill only 3 uninterrupted miles.
It is a big roadway eatery and looks like they offer pretty standard fare. There is a five quid special before five pm which is advertised on boards outside and which the old couple near me commented on to the exclusion of all other topics, like “oh, it was £11.40 they charged for the food and bevvies;” “£11.40 for the food and bevvies, I don’t know how they do it;” “yes, it was five for yours and the half and five more for mine. Then there was my half;” “ooh, that was never £11.40;” “yes, £11.40. Because it was five for mine, and…” and on and on for 10 minutes.
I dropped my glass at the bar and asked where the gents was, and the barkeep said, “just between those two pillars there, m’love.” I didn’t see the door beyond and commented I didn’t think that would be especially sanitary. Walking back I heard the conversation had moved on to “yes, I think they forgot to charge for one of our halves; it was five for yours,” etc.
