Thursday evening I went to the Gothsluts weekly meeting, this time at the Angel in Bermondsey. A Sam Smith pub, it seemingly has many strange rules of the house that I wasn't aware of. First the Italian guy at the bar (I think he's the manager, he seemed to be in charge) stopped me short when I spoke to him in Italian, 'speake in Englishe, the customer over there (points at a customer at the bar) could think we're talking about him'. I refrained to mention that the pointing thing was more rude than any imaginary offence for not understanding what other people were saying. Rules of the company, he said.
I had gone to the pub straight from a lesson so I had a guitar. Dylan wanted to have a go so we brought the guitar out of the case -and the same Italian member of staff came and told us. We weren't allowed to make any sort of music in the house. Rules of the company, he said. Ooh kay then. The booze is cheap there, the food is cheap and ok, the view of the riverside is lovely but I don't think I'll be voting for that pub for the meetings again.
The company was excellent, though.