Doesn’t time fly?
I think it’s something that’s increasingly noticeable as I age. The six weeks holidays, I’m reliably informed the kids are currently enjoying, used to last forever. Stretching to the point I was almost glad to get back to school.
Almost.
These days, though, that same period of time is gone in a blink. Thirteen years, well that seems like yesterday. Not that I’ve picked that specific period of time at random, you understand. No, thirteen years just happens to be the span, almost to the day, of my marriage to the always awesome Tina.
Southern Hospitality
It was, in fact this last Monday, the twenty-eighth of the month when we passed that particular milestone. It seemed rude not to mark the occasion, so, after discussing the options we decided to book a table at Hickory’s Smokehouse, one of a chain of restaurants primarily located in the north of England, that celebrates the cuisine of the southern states of the good(??) ol’ USofA.
It being located in nearby Huddersfield, we decided to take a taxi, allowing me to have an alcoholic drink or three with my dinner. A decision that turned out to be wise.
For those that don’t know me that well, I’m a bourbon drinker in the main. Not that I’m averse to a drop of IPA, the occasional vodka, or a variety of other beverages (Not cider, sambuca, or anything blue though. I’ve learnt my lesson with those drinks and it wasn’t a pretty lesson, either). It was, therefore, a welcome, if not completely unexpected, treat to find my favourite cocktail, an Old Fashioned, on the menu. Something I took full advantage of as we waited for our table (Tina had something pink, filled with crushed ice, and nearly too viscous for the supplied straw to deal with).
And that took us on to the food, which was…lovely.
A Dilly Of A Pickle
To be fair, you probably need to be a fan of meat, for the main part, although Tina started with Frickles, or fried pickles, something she claimed to be the highlight of her dining experience. As for me, I risked sticky fingers and looks of disgust with a bowl of chicken wings drenched in BBQ sauce, complete with sticks of celery (yeah, I don’t know why either) and a blue cheese dip.
Tina had a burger for her main and promptly deconstructed it into its constituent parts, a habit that, even after thirteen years of marriage, continues to perplex me. I had the 16 hours smoked brisket, and, after a small twinge of disappointment at the five slices, thoroughly enjoyed the absurdly tender beef. In fact I think we can both say we were more than happy with the quality of our food. In fact, if the evening had stopped there we would have gone home happy.
But, of course, it didn’t.
Sharing Is Caring
No, just as we were finishing up our glasses of IPA (told you) and thinking about asking for our bill, the waitress, a lovely young lass named Maddison, presented us with a small platter of doughnut, cream, oreos, and meringue complete with a stenciled icing sugar legend, marking the occasion and an offer of a free drink each. Tina had a prosecco, I had another Old Fashioned. We finished our sharer pud, and took our drinks to the bar…
Where we got talking with the barman, and a couple who were having a drink in the bar. It made me think of having a few beers down at the local, something I don’t really have since I moved from my native Pudsey to Mirfield. Granted said local was actually a chain restaurant/bar, and granted it was an eight pound taxi ride away, but it felt homely, relaxed, familiar. It felt like the kind of place you could take your time in. Unrushed. Not too busy. Not too impersonal.
Which probably explains the last round.
To be honest, if the place had been open later than ten thirty, I think we would have stayed even longer, but as it was, we booked our Uber and headed home. I’d certainly be up for a return, though, especially as the bar manager told us they have two-for-one cocktails at the weekend (sadly, not including Old Fashioneds).
Out Out
And that was that. The thirteenth year of marriage marked. We didn’t do presents this year, or even cards although I did post something suitably mushy on social media. The night out, though, well that’s something we don’t do a lot. It meant it felt special, and Hickory’s and their staff made it feel that little bit extra special.
It means, as time continues its too-quick march, our fourteenth year may well be marked in a similar way, and in the weeks and months in between Hickory’s may just have earned themselves a couple of return customers.
After all, there’s plenty more years of happy marriage to come.
Until next time.
Hey, there! If you enjoyed reading any of the above, why not take a look at some of my published work? Below you’ll find links to a number of short stories I’m lucky enough to have included in anthologies. I’d love to know what you think.
New Tales Of Old
Death Ship
Pestilence: Drabbles 1
Reaperman: Drabbles 3
The Musketeers Vs Cthulhu
Eldritch Investigations
For those that don’t know me that well, I’m a bourbon drinker in the main. Not that I’m averse to a drop of IPA, the occasional vodka, or a variety of other beverages (Not cider, sambuca, or anything blue though. I’ve learnt my lesson with those drinks and it wasn’t a pretty lesson, either). It was, therefore, a welcome, if not completely unexpected, treat to find my favourite cocktail, an Old Fashioned, on the menu. Something I took full advantage of as we waited for our table (Tina had something pink, filled with crushed ice, and nearly too viscous for the supplied straw to deal with).
And that took us on to the food, which was…lovely.
A Dilly Of A Pickle
To be fair, you probably need to be a fan of meat, for the main part, although Tina started with Frickles, or fried pickles, something she claimed to be the highlight of her dining experience. As for me, I risked sticky fingers and looks of disgust with a bowl of chicken wings drenched in BBQ sauce, complete with sticks of celery (yeah, I don’t know why either) and a blue cheese dip.
Tina had a burger for her main and promptly deconstructed it into its constituent parts, a habit that, even after thirteen years of marriage, continues to perplex me. I had the 16 hours smoked brisket, and, after a small twinge of disappointment at the five slices, thoroughly enjoyed the absurdly tender beef. In fact I think we can both say we were more than happy with the quality of our food. In fact, if the evening had stopped there we would have gone home happy.
But, of course, it didn’t.
Sharing Is Caring
No, just as we were finishing up our glasses of IPA (told you) and thinking about asking for our bill, the waitress, a lovely young lass named Maddison, presented us with a small platter of doughnut, cream, oreos, and meringue complete with a stenciled icing sugar legend, marking the occasion and an offer of a free drink each. Tina had a prosecco, I had another Old Fashioned. We finished our sharer pud, and took our drinks to the bar…
Where we got talking with the barman, and a couple who were having a drink in the bar. It made me think of having a few beers down at the local, something I don’t really have since I moved from my native Pudsey to Mirfield. Granted said local was actually a chain restaurant/bar, and granted it was an eight pound taxi ride away, but it felt homely, relaxed, familiar. It felt like the kind of place you could take your time in. Unrushed. Not too busy. Not too impersonal.
Which probably explains the last round.
To be honest, if the place had been open later than ten thirty, I think we would have stayed even longer, but as it was, we booked our Uber and headed home. I’d certainly be up for a return, though, especially as the bar manager told us they have two-for-one cocktails at the weekend (sadly, not including Old Fashioneds).
Out Out
And that was that. The thirteenth year of marriage marked. We didn’t do presents this year, or even cards although I did post something suitably mushy on social media. The night out, though, well that’s something we don’t do a lot. It meant it felt special, and Hickory’s and their staff made it feel that little bit extra special.
It means, as time continues its too-quick march, our fourteenth year may well be marked in a similar way, and in the weeks and months in between Hickory’s may just have earned themselves a couple of return customers.
After all, there’s plenty more years of happy marriage to come.
Until next time.
#
Hey, there! If you enjoyed reading any of the above, why not take a look at some of my published work? Below you’ll find links to a number of short stories I’m lucky enough to have included in anthologies. I’d love to know what you think.
New Tales Of Old
Death Ship
Pestilence: Drabbles 1
Reaperman: Drabbles 3
The Musketeers Vs Cthulhu
Eldritch Investigations
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