I went to the Brass Monkey mostly on the basis of the sign with the masturbating monkey that looks like George W Bush (but, don’t they all). Inside, I was greeted by a good crowd of Thursday afternoon drunks, a couple of their dogs, and one of the most entertaining young barmaids I have spoken with in years. Busy, I left her alone and listened to her dismissive chat with most of the other customers who were, on their own merits, funny and good company. Better, I imagine, than the later crowds for whom this note was prepared:
The muscles in my legs were cramping pretty badly after the day’s runs and it caught the attention of one of the dogs who then ran around a barstool excitedly and nearly toppled an old dude who probably didn’t need the help. Near the rail station, this will be my first stop on a subsequent visit.