Dear David,

In fact, sadly David will never read this. I never met him, never spoke to him, and only knew him through his comments here on my blog, my replies to what he said, his replies in turn which became conversations. I never knew who he was, and it was only several months after he stopped commenting, that I realised he would never write anything to me again. I found out (eventually, because I

imagined. You’ve read my stories of this pub and our visits to it for several years now – my reports of triumphs and disasters at quiz night, conversations with the three T’s Trevor, Tim and Terry, Mrs Pen – not exactly the pub dog but a beloved regular, the sloe gin competitions, folk club on a Monday night, the characters who inhabited it, odd-bods, odd-balls, funny old folk, weirdos and kind-hearted, generous and plain lovely people. Landlords who came and went – bar staff ditto! The refurbishments – the time the pub went tartan, the poker club, gigs of all sorts, the regulars who we first met when they sneaked in under-age – they had to behave themselves or they would be chucked out, the groups of regulars – the same half dozen or less people who would regularly sit round a table together, the people who had “their” seat or stool – some long forgotten now, like old George, some more recently departed like Terry.
Well, David, you would not recognise it once if you stepped inside the door now. It was due for an upgrade before, it was a bit sad, and worn, and to be honest a little grubby in some parts – for the regulars it was comfy and easy and familiar. Now it is no longer a typical small village local pub for locals. It’s all shiny and new , and with more wines than you could drink in a year, and all the ingredients for a hundred cocktails and hard working but inexperienced staff (surely knowing what Shiraz is and how to open a wine bottle)…

What would David think, I’m sure he would be blunt and indignant, and sorry, and send me his warmest sympathy, sorry that he’d never be able to visit the Dolphin even now when it’s not as it had been.