I SLIPPED onto a bar stool in the hostelry and nearly fell straight off again – as Roger offered me a pint. Could this be so? Was I hearing correctly? What’s happening?!

You see, Roger is a past master of timing his drink to ensure it’s empty when I arrive at the pub. But tonight there was a welcome, if surprising, change.

Roger was with Micky and Dave the Sand and we were joined by Carley, not working this evening, and her new fella.

There was some uncertainty as to his name, so we settled on Larry, or Larry the Leek, as a tribute to his Welsh heritage, although Micky thought he was Portuguese.

A pleasant chap, he’s a sporting nut which meant he kept Micky busy for a while, for which we were grateful. Although, in his subtle way, Micky did get in a brilliant comment.

Larry was explaining his family connections, who played senior sport in Wales – I can’t recall if it was rugby or football. Anyway, he had cousins, uncles and brothers who were seriously excellent.

Micky was unimpressed and sagely said, “well, that doesn’t mean you were any good”, which Larry took in good part. Never a truer word said in jest.

I was able to catch up on local news from Carley as she works in the pub and a farm shop, as well as teaching in her spare time and she’s well acquainted with local gossip. It’s always good to be up to date.

Such conversations always remind me of a Pennine farmer in my youth, John, who loved a spot of an update.

When you saw him, pottering about in his Land Rover, he would lean out the window and say, “have you ne-e-e-ws?, savouring each letter in anticipation of a juicy titbit. Happy days, indeed.