We spent our last Sunday afternoon away in a pub in London and had a drinks and snacks “drop in” session with friends in the London area. The pub – chosen for sentimental reasons and its proximity to Waterloo Station – was Auberge, and we sat outside on the rooftop terrace, amid the delicious noise and clutter of central London.
It was perfect.
The place itself was pretty quiet, although I can imagine it being quite different on a weekday.
On a weekday, for example, I can’t imagine that there would be space for one of the older patrons to finish his lunch and then choose to have a sleep on the couch while his wife patiently read her book.
But as I said, this was a Sunday.
OK. OK. I know what you’re thinking. But it’s just the position of his arms and the flower on the table that make it look like he’s shuffled off this mortal coil. After more than a whole hour later, he woke up, put his sandals back on and went back into real life.
The manager of the place wasn’t entirely happy about the situation when we chatted about it, but truth be told, the sleeping man wasn’t really doing anyone any harm, and reminded ourselves that we have to try to respect older people…
‘Cause one day you’ll be older too
You might need someone who can pull you through
…even when they fall asleep in your bar.
He let it slide when he heard that we weren’t bothered by it.
I’ve seen a lot of people fall asleep in pubs before. I’ve had to wake them up, help them outside and put them in taxis home on several occasions, when I’ve been working in various drinking establishments. But the clear forethought and preparation of this one was certainly different from those.
There’s almost a certain amount of respect due for his chutzpah, even if he himself was being rather less respectful to those around him.
Anyway. It made for a blog post.