A tween waiting for her dad. People play darts or scoff hot chips beside the open fire. She's heading to the game-table to play space invaders with her sister. Her dad has given the sisters each 20 cents to keep them busy while he finishes his beer.
A teen. She's here every Thursday... and Friday... and sometimes Saturday. She drinks dollar drinks - fire engines. Sickly-sweet, red syrup with a shot of vodka. She's wearing textured, home made clothes*. She's laughing with her friends and trying to look sophisticated. She falls over... a lot!
A mother. She's so excited to be out of the house for the first time in ages, she can't stop giggling. She's carefully chosen her best handbag, best jeans, best heels (nothing too high so she doesn't fall over). Her boobs feel like they're going to burst because she's left her baby at home.
They're all me! Or, at least, who I used to be.
Nowadays, I head into the pub with my entourage. It's all about the best games room and the best place for chips. We go on a Monday when it's two-for-one or a Wednesday when kids eat for free.
* Jo... you'll remember grass dress, violet crumble wrap, dog-skirt! Guess what?! I still have them lurking in the cupboard. They were great luck! As you'll remember, dog-skirt snagged me the perfect man ;)