The old bore at the Blue Boar

I'm not sure when I took against the OB at the blue boar. Was it when he asked us too many questions (just being friendly?) or when he told us what a pretty girl we had.
Anyway we decided to ignore the OB (who was after all accompanied by his no doubt long suffering wife) and pop Jack into his high chair. S without realising had already tuned him out. Jack was unfortunately tired and feral. Not to worry though it wasn't as if we driven 3 hours for a nice meal. Oh hang on...
He was happy in his chair for 3 seconds then started to slide out the bottom. When his face was level with the tray he panicked and started crying. Loudly. We tried various cunning forms of distraction but nothing worked. Even our very funny polish waitress had no luck. We strapped him into his stroller and decided to order. Now the menu was very nice and had all sorts of yummy things like lamb parvais (actually not sure what that is...is it french for rump?) and duck confit but we ended up ordering fish and chips and a burger. Not just ordinary ones of course - gourmet and they tasted fantastic. Maybe would've tasted better if Jack wasn't crying and throwing books on the ground. Sigh.
And what do you drink with a gastropub burger or fish and chips? A pint of course. S is concerned about the temperature of his beer so he asked the waitress what nice cold beer she had and she said Fosters.
FOSTERS! I told you she was funny. She could tell by the look on our faces that we were horrified. Very odd that no one in OZ drinks fosters but quite popular here.
So the meal was lovely but quick but what of my special friend OB? His attention had been diverted from us by the arrival of a couple about the same age as he and his wife, who he then regaled with a story about an old friend of his who had recently died and how he and his wife were settling his estate and trying to work out what to do with his grand piano and how he got called to the morgue and there he was blah, blah, blah. I mean it just went on and on.
And the other poor people were trapped. What if they were on a special night out and this duffer is banging on about aneurysms and such and made them totally depressed. Maybe they were thinking thank goodness we can have a nice chat so I can block out the noise of that horrible child, but I don't think so. As we left with our writhing, cranky child, the man from the nice table gave me a wink. Not a leery dirty old man wink, more of a can you believe this fella - hope you enjoyed your meal- chin up he'll have to stop crying sometime kind of wink. Anyway it was a nice gesture and I hope he and his wife managed to enjoy their meal.
Afterwards we tried to go for a walk to the nearest village which I think is called Fangio upon avon or something like it. Lots of the locals hooning around so we gave up and turned in for the night.
The next morning we had a breakfast that would be my brother's dream brekkie. Juice, toast (no, not that bit) eggs, bacon, sausages, beans, mushrooms and black pudding. Needless to say I didn't finish it and have posted the leftover black pudding to Craig. I did eat a little bit but it just always makes me think of Gay Bilson.