Last night I witnessed a strange event. Stuck in Worcester I spent some time exercising - I should explain once more that my preferred exercise is with Indian clubs in the privacy of home, but here I tend to resort to running. Indeed rather than chance being accosted by the working classes I do not run in the streets or byeways, but rather in what the hotel laughingly calls a gymnasium (most of our bathrooms at home are bigger than this) on a treadmill (which reminds me of the mills that the family once owned). No masseuse was available to give me a rub down after, so I showered and went out into the night.
I wandered in to a local pub and was immedeiately accosted by the friendly atmosphere and the peculiar smells. It became clear after a few minutes that in order eke out their meagre rations the working classes had pooled their food and decided to share it out amongst them. I had never seen anything quite like it and was choked by their kindness in inviting me to partake. It would have been rude to say no, so I picked at various offerings. Most were pastry covered comestibles filled with God knows what. One chap from North Britain kept muttering about neeps and tatties and plunging into one of the offering.
All in all a strange evening. It is interesting to see how the working classes spend their time (though it is probably best to observe from a distance!)