It's party season here in the UK. It seems that almost all office Christmas parties over here take place in pubs. More specifically, they all seem to take place in pubs that I'm trying to have a quiet coffee or beer in. It's difficult to maintain a writer's demeanor, brooding and mysterious, when the table next to you is full of drunken office workers wearing paper crowns, telling bawdy stories, and are basically one step away from falling all together into a gigantic bed of awkward regrets.
This is all pubs now. Every day, every bar, right around noon. Where is a man supposed to have lunch among all this revelry?