There’s a ghost in this (public) house. Those who know him would agree that Tim Hopkins is a pub goer without equal. Despite an enforced absence from the cut and thrust of the pub scene of late he is a man you would never expect to commit a pub faux pas. So I was lost for words when last night after recently arriving in the Lord John Russell Tim spilt almost a full pint of Bombadier over our female companion. Not only did this make her smell rather hoppy – and trust me Bombadier reeks – but it also cause TIm more mortification than anything else I have ever seen. He is a man who is not prone to rash movements, and does not spill beer.
We moved, a new pint was bought and – apart from the lingering smell – little was made of this vexing occurance. Until quarter of an hour later, two other fellows with ale decide to sit on our own table. Literally within a minute – bang, splash! One of their pints went over. Can it be that the Lord John Russell is haunted by a beer spilling uppity ghost by the toilets. I think that is a far more plausible explaination than the alternatives. And pub ghosts rock – though they obviously have the upper hand in “you spilled my pint” kind of fights.