Minnie poured beer from a large jug into four pint glasses. The pub was full and a large portion of the customers were rugby players. Minnie had played a blinder of a game that afternoon, scoring two tries rolling off of the scrum each time. They had beaten Teddington to secure a place in the London and South East Divisional final. Minnie and his three team mates wore smart polo shirts with the clubs name and emblem displayed. Big chested guys all of them, they drunk their pints quickly.
“This has to be my last one,” Minnie said.
“We’ve only had seven David, come on stay until we pass ten?” Owen asked Minnie (the team knew him as the David he was to his parents).
“Nope, sorry seven is enough, I am on a promise,” Minnie stood to the protests of his team mates.
Flat nosed George, a squat prop barked up, “Promise my fucking arse you dick, you just can’t take the pace.”
“That’s exactly it George, gotta go,” Minnie leaned forward and drained his pint. He waved as he stepped away from the complaints of his fellow rugby players.
As he walked out of the pub to jeers and hoots, his team mates affectionately sang him out of the licensed establishment.
“He’s a wanker, he’s a wanker and it does him good like it bloody well should, he’s a wanker and he’s always pulling his hood. Oh Mrs C and your five lovely daughters, his knees have turned to water and he thinks he’s gonna die. He’s a wanker, He’s a wanker.”
Minnie left the pub watched by a curious audience of customers smiling at the Rugby Team singing. He stepped out of The Grey Horse into the night air, smiling as he could still hear the chanted refrain of ‘Ivor Biguns’ greatest hit.
Minnie walked along Craven Street which joined Northumberland Avenue. He then strode down Victoria Embankment and made his way towards Hungerford Bridge. He needed to get to Waterloo to take a train to Battersea. Minnie had decided the walk would sober him up. He had become quite sweet with Fay, the girl he had met at Jamie’s party some weeks ago. She seemed to like him and had suggested a night in of naughtiness and take away, who was he to resist?
London was busy and people came and went, in and out of pubs and restaurants, walking in groups and couples by the Thames. Brightly lit boats and barges navigated up and down the wide powerful river. Hungerford Bridge was ahead of him, stretching out from Charing Cross to the South Bank that would take him onto Waterloo Road and to Waterloo station for his train.
Minnie arrived at the foot of the steps that would take him up to the pedestrian walkway that ran parallel with the railway bridge that crossed the river. The bridge had distinct criss-cross girders along its structure. A complex crossing made of metal, wood, concrete and the steel railway tracks with their own signature screeching sounds. They grated and sparked from trains on the tracks as they worked their way in and out of the station. The bridge was reasonably quiet with only a handful of night time revellers using it to cross. Minnie hopped up the steps full of energy for the shagtastic evening ahead.