Brendan thinks of himself as a ‘fun’ character, and he probably is if you like the company of loud blokes. He talks non-stop and uses laughter as a form of punctuation. It doesn’t matter that he hasn’t said or attempted to say anything amusing, he still lets out a snigger or a tommy titter every third sentence or so. He seems to have little interest in what others say to him. I often think it must be nice to believe that your company entrances people. Must be a great confidence builder. I’m always willing to play along with his witterings, and in return he thinks I like him. I don’t dislike him, but that’s about as far as I would go.

I texted him as I finished work and told him I would be at my local pub, the Grove Tavern in Camberwell, around 7pm. When I arrived I noticed a colourful red and white striped bicycle leant up against the wall by the entrance. It crossed my mind that there might be a pissed juggler inside the building throwing his skittles willy-nilly at the light fittings. I would enjoy watching the repercussions of that sort of incident.

When I walked inside there was no juggler, but I immediately spotted Brendan, sat at the bar scrolling through his phone. He didn’t see me. There were a few other people seated around but generally it was quiet and welcoming. The bar takes up one side of the room and on the opposite side are a series of curved booths with bench seats and backs upholstered in a burgundy velveteen material. A quick thought passed through my mind: what a good name for a pudding ‘velveteen’ would be.

‘Would you be interested in a pudding, sir?’

‘Yeah, maybe, what have you got?’

‘We have a chocolate and orange velveteen served with clotted cream.’

‘I’m not saying no to that, mate, it sounds very influential. I’ll take one.’

Then I remembered that I have little interest in puddings, let alone their manufacture, so dropped the thought onto the floor like a used bus ticket.

I sat down next to Brendan and he started to talk.

‘Alright, Gary, what can I get ya? The bar is your oyster – ha ha ha!’

‘I’ll have a pint of IPA, thanks.’

‘Ha ha ha! Barman! A pint of IPA for my soppy mate here.’

‘Sorry I’m a bit late, Brendan, I was taking a statement from this bloke at work and he suddenly got a terrible sweat on.’

‘Whoa, a perspirer. They can be very egregious – ha ha ha ha!’

‘Yeah, I agree. He seemed to get itchy first – you know, before the sweat kicked in. I wanted to ask if he was okay but when someone is itching it feels like a bit of a personal thing to bring it up, so anyway…’