My Favourite Bar

A couple of years ago, my son H8 asked me, in a thoughtful way:

“Dad, what is your favourite bar?”

dublin_bar.jpg

I was sort of taken aback by the question, but I decided to be honest and give it some serious thought.

“Well now,” I said, “that’s a tough one. There’s a lot of bars that I like, but the one I probably prefer in the Bishop’s Arms. They have lots of interesting beer, and they are very friendly and you can just go in and read the newspaper and have a beer after a day in town and nobody will look at you funny. So I would say that my favourite bar is in fact the Bishop’s Arms.”

H8 looked at me curiously and said: “Dad…I meant chocolate bar.”

And I smiled dumbly, realising once again that kids and grown-ups don’t really share the same priorities in life. Which is probably for the best.

/ paddy

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9 thoughts on “My Favourite Bar

  1. earthpal: I felt a burning shame, I can tell you…

    Ian Porter: I’m sorry, but when I hear the word “bar”, I do not think of Milky Way. Well, maybe of a cute waitress bringing over some Milky Ways that she has had in her chest pocket, and they’ve gone all soft and… I think I’ll just go have a lie down now.

    Martin: Gröna Jägaren.

  2. A friend told me yesterday about a Chinese person he had been corresponding with. This person had apologised for their poor English, and explained,

    “My English is useless long time”.

    Perfectly logical. “My English has not seen any use for a long time. It is long time useless.”

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