A Kinrowan Estate story: Pub Rules


Like any good pub, there are of course rules at The Green Man Pub. Everyone is welcome, provided they can behave like a reasonable being. (I don’t say human as some of our visitors are most decidedly not human, although most are humanoid in shape.)

No one gets drunk in our Pub, no one. And no one, other than visiting musos, drinks for free (with a few exceptions) here. Even raising your voice in what the Barkeep thinks is an agressive manner will get you banned from the Pub. Never have a staff — save one several decades back that was coming off a bad breakup — been banned as it effectively meant being ostracized from the Estate, but we’ve had several visitors to the Estate, band members all, who thought high spirits meant being really rowdy. Neither they nor their bands got invited back.

All manner of currency are excepted from the local pound scots to the decidedly odd such as the Roman coins the Traveling Doctor, as she called herself, offered that were as if newly minted. And no one runs a tab that extends beyond closing time. Yes, we close — generally between four and noon for cleaning and restocking as need be. Besides nobody should really be drinking that early in the day.

Buying rounds is allowed but the barkeep on duty has the right to ask for payment upon ordering. And we will ask for payment before pouring the decidedly expensive single drams, some of which cost over a hundred euros a shot. Just prudent policy on our part.

Though talking and general goings-on are expected when the Neverending Session is playing, respect and paying attention to visiting musos, storytellers, and such are indeed expected. And you will be asked to leave or be quiet by someone rather quickly.

That’s pretty much it. Otherwise just enjoy yourself.


About Reynard

I’m the Pub Manager for the Green Man Pub which is located at the KInrowan Estate. I’m married to Ingrid, our Steward who’s also the Estate Buyer. If I’m off duty and in a mood for a drink, it’ll be a single malt, either Irish or Scottish, no water or ice, or possibly an Estate ale or cider.

I’m a concertina player, and unlike my wife who has a fine singing voice, I do not have anything of a singing voice anyone want to hear!

This entry was posted in Stories. Bookmark the permalink.