a night by the fire

So, there I was, by the door of "City of Quebec", the only gay bar I knew in London.

This was my first time traveling around here and I didn't know what toexpect, but there was only one way to find out. In I go.I like dark ales and stouts so I got a pint of Gillespie from thebartender and started looking around.

The bar was quite crowded and noisy and most of the men were seniors.Don't get me wrong, I like 'em that way.

There was no place to sit downstairs so I climbed the stairs up andfound a small table with free footstools. A guy in his early 60's wasalready sitting there and there were two pints of lager on the table.

- May I take a seat here?

- By all means, he replied smiling at me.

I looked at him while he went on reading a newspaper and sipping hisbeer. I guess he had come from work and his shirt wasn't buttoned allup. I tried to keep my eyes off his chest where I saw some silver hairbut couldn't.

Another man came to sit by the table and started a conversation with me.

- Vous parlez francaise, jeune homme?

I don't know why he spoke French to me, I guess he saw I was a foreignerand thought I must be french.

- Uhm, pardon m'sieur, mais mon francais n'est pas ais?, I mumbled.

- Oh, that's okay, we can speak in good ol' English then. I work at the

Comission, you know and I'm used to speaking languages.