Pubs have their memories, sometimes indistinct and ghostly, the echoes of the voices of long dead regulars perhaps only heard if you listen carefully enough. Hark, there is the tale of how Uncle Ior’s dinner was once placed on his lap by an exasperated Auntie Kate when he had spent too long playing cards in Y Dderwen. Or the laughter that accompanies the remembrance of that old skinflint Owen Jones who once made a pint of mild last all night and then left his young family for Birmingham the next day.
Warm. Here ATJ brings gently to life the memory of a pub's long dead dogs and drinkers .