The Chestnuts, Langley, Slough

A ropey old dump, three rooms knocked together. The brown carpet was worn down to the rubber and there was a general smell of damp, old beer and mothballs. Henrietta Hoover seemed to be a pub feature. Crusty vat of some substance left over from the previous night (at least I hope it was the previous night) sat on a table. Pool, darts, TV news. Token ale, Courage Best, which wasn’t up to much. At least we didn’t get the stares, I suppose.