New to the pub, I was looking at framed photos of Welsh rugby icons when...

 

‘Hey, Nobby!’ exclaimed my friend Huw as an elderly, bespectacled, white haired character entered The Old Arcade.

 

‘No! No! Today I’m Gorgeous Frankie,’ he retorted.

 

‘Duw, you’re smart, mun.’

 

‘Ta, spa. They makes me ‘ave a bath, first, though I doesn’t need one, then they gives me all this clobber, see.’

 

‘That’s Harris Tweed that is,’ Huw said as Nobby shuffled to the bar.

 

‘Cracking lad, Arris,’ he smiled.

 

Huw informed me that Nobby lived in a Salvation Army Hostel and was known for carting odds and ends around the city in a shopping trolley - cabling mostly, from building sites and the like.

 

As Nobby shuffled back towards the upper bar Huw asked him how the totting was going.

 

‘Can’t be doing that in these togs, mate. Shall ‘ave to consult my Careers Adviser, soon as poss, mate.’

 

Huw was about to say say something but the Welsh team announcement was suddenly blasted from all the tellies...

 

forgetting names

a familiar face

says hello