Hail to the ale

I paid my first trip to recently-opened Wellington on Friday night, the only (to my knowledge) real ale pub in the city centre, and was thrilled to discover it seemed to be playing host to a Pork Scratchings Convention - the place was packed full of paunchy bearded men chomping on God's own pig-based bar snack.

I didn't indulge myself, though I did plump for a pint of the intriguingly named Pig On The Wall dark ale. Awaiting the company of Vicky, I enjoyed the excellent company of Kenny and Andy (yes, OK, it was a blogmeet, if you must...), all three of us feeling twenty years younger thanks to the time- and ale-ravaged features of the aforementioned paunchy bearded men surrounding us.

Vicky arrived with her friend James, who pronounced himself to be an Aston Villa fan, a fact I regarded with scepticism given his cheery demeanour. They'd been at the Kaiser Chiefs gig - thankfully Vicky didn't hold it against me for suggesting earlier, when it looked as though she wouldn't get a ticket, that it wouldn't matter as seeing the Chiefs in the live environment would probably be less pleasant than drinking someone else's sick.

We left Kenny finishing off his pint in the Wellington and before the night ended we had managed to pay £10 to get into the wrong gay club, lost James on arrival in the right gay club and sat around chatting about early 90s indie bands.

Whatever you do, though, don't believe Kenny's account of the evening. I would never be seen dead in a "rather fetching cowboy outfit". SOOOOO last year, darling.