The Antelope, Upavon, Wiltshire (pub #999)

It is rare I get to use the words “There Was An Incident,” that they don’t pertain to something I have done.  The bartender served me a Horizon then went for some change and the landlady said a few superficially friendly words of greeting.  “So, I hear you had a fight last night,” I offered up.  This got the attention of the Brits in the bar (far outnumbered by Americans, probably due to the MOD training  bases in the area).  After a brief pause, she smiled broadly and said, “no, not a fight, just a very unpleasant woman who needed escorting away,” and after another brief pause: “Where did you hear that?”  “First words out of the old guys around the bar across the way were that There Was An Incident.”

“Oh, yes, [woman’s name], the landlady there had previously advised me about her.”  Her lawyerly self-editing had amused me so much that I only realised after heading to the garden that she seemed to have a Northern accent; I’m not well calibrated to those so couldn’t say which type of Northern accent, but it was quite lovely (and she was very funny, as well).