Think there's nothing to do in Fairford? BULLsh**!
The year was 1999. I was somewhat of a young bull myself. That is, I was an intact (i.e., not castrated) adult male of my species.
I had been dispatched to Fairford for a few months and one of the first orders of business was finding the local watering holes. The Bull quickly became our favorite and most visited pub in town.
From the minute I walked into this place, it was exactly as I pictured. The quintessential small town English pub.
There was the table in the corner with the bearded fellows discussing what I imagined were important local issues like the health of the sheep flocks or the prospect of future sunshine. There was the thin man sitting alone, drinking an ale, and looking as if he just realized the flocks weren't healthy...and there would be no more sunshine. There was the elderly lady who welcomed everyone in with a smile, a kind word, and a hug.
Finally, there was me. The wide-eyed 20-year-old Yankee who was eager to fill his stomach with beer and meat and fill his arm with a special English lass. Of course, even Yankees strike out, and this one was no different The first young lady on the radar, a waitress at the bar, turned out to only be 15. Hey, at least the beer and meat part was accomplished!
There would be many more days and nights at the Bull and many more stories to tell. Those are stories for another time, however. For now, I urge you to take leave of this review, go to Fairford, and take the Bull by the horns. Hey, that waitress is in her late 20s by now... read more