The Thatch Doctors

I hadn't been down "The Thatched Cottage" in years. It's one of those local pubs where the crowd from the Totland Estate started going when they closed down that den of iniquity, that tavern of ill repute, that wonderful old shitehole the Prince Louis.

And Becky hadn't been there either, so when our neighbour offered to take us down "The Thatch" for a pint or three we jumped at the chance; what better to do on a Sunday evening when the kids are safely chained up 'round a friend's house?



No sooner had we crossed the threshold and ducked under the old oak beams, we were drinking Adnam's Broadside and drawn into the pub quiz with the promise of prizes for the winning team and the best team name. After quips about trimming Becky's thatch and other silly suggestions we settled on the name "The Thatch Doctors" even though between a web designer, an aviation engineer and a medical writer there was only one PhD.

After 30 questions about pop music, boxers, motorways and the make-up of atoms, we waited with baited breath...

...and found out that we'd won on 24 points.

No time for another pint, unfortunately, but we did bag a nice bottle of Semillon Chardonnay.

Go Thatch Doctors. Go Thatched Cottage.