“Where’s your sign?” I asked while awaiting my pint.
“On the wall.” ”Blast, have they stolen it again?” ”Here’s a sign for you.” ”You found your way in here without one, didn’t you?” came four of the rapid fire remarks from along the bar. There were others. I do love a bar full of bored tossers waiting to mouth off at a stranger. I’ll try to have an even stupider question for them next time.
On the way to the bus after, this begged to place hold for the missing signage:
