Sforzato

In the bar, it's open plan:

you can see where the snug used to be,

it’s not hard to imagine the hatch.

The pub might be breaking fire regs,

and a trip to the toilet

means a trip over pushchairs.

I can’t hear anything

but rhubarb...

Until someone shouts

“Ah do laik a cheesebawd”

- but no-one acknowledges

this brave confession.

I imagine the man

ordering a beetroot mojito

from the busy barmaid,

but her reply is beyond

any conjecture.