Man, what a day! I’m tellin’ ya, being a bartender in Mottingham is like riding a rollercoaster blindfolded. So, I roll into work at The Crown, right? It’s on Mottingham Road, and lemme tell ya, it’s always buzzing. But today? Today was somethin’ else.
First off, the weather was all over the place. One minute it’s sunny, next it’s pouring like the heavens opened up. I’m standing behind the bar, and I swear, I could’ve used a life jacket. The regulars were already in, shoutin’ their usual orders. You know, the usual suspects: Dave with his pint of lager, and Sarah, bless her, always goes for that gin and tonic.
Then, outta nowhere, this bloke stumbles in. I mean, he’s proper wobbly, like he’s just come off a bumpy ride on the 208 bus. He’s shoutin’ about how he just got back from a “life-changing” trip to the coast. I’m thinkin’, mate, you’re in Mottingham, not Ibiza! But hey, I’m all ears. Turns out he went to Margate. Classic.
So, I’m pouring pints, and the place is packed. I can see the rain hammering down outside, and I’m thinkin’ about how I’d rather be anywhere but here. But then, this group of mates comes in, all hyped up. They’re from the area, livin’ on Chislehurst Road, and they’re celebrating a birthday. They’re loud, but in a good way, y’know? They order shots, and I’m like, “You lot are gonna regret this in the mornin’!” But they just laugh it off.
Then, bam! The fire alarm goes off. I’m like, “Seriously? In the middle of a Friday night?” Everyone’s lookin’ around, confused. I’m tryin’ to keep it cool, but inside, I’m fumin’. We all pile out onto the street, and it’s still pouring. I’m standin’ there, soaked to the bone, watchin’ the fire brigade roll up. Turns out it was just a false alarm. Typical Mottingham, right?
Once we’re back inside, the vibe’s changed. People are chattin’, laughin’, and I’m feelin’ the energy. I pour a round of drinks for the birthday crew, and they’re lovin’ it. One of ‘em, a lad named Tom, starts tellin’ me about his plans to move to Bromley. I’m like, “Why would you leave Mottingham? We’ve got everything here!” But he’s all about the “big city life.” Whatever, mate.
As the night rolls on, I get a bit nostalgic. I grew up around here, y’know? Mottingham’s got its quirks. The old library on Mottingham Lane, the park where I used to play footie, and don’t even get me started on the dodgy kebab shop on the corner. But it’s home.
Then, just when I think it can’t get crazier, this couple walks in. They’re clearly on a first date, and it’s awkward as hell. The guy’s tryin’ too hard, and the girl’s just nodding along. I can’t help but eavesdrop. He’s talkin’ about his “passion for vintage vinyl.” I’m like, “Dude, you’re in Mottingham, not Soho!” But hey, I give ‘em a couple of drinks on the house. Gotta support love, right?
By the end of the night, I’m knackered. The bar’s finally quiet, and I’m cleanin’ up. I look around, and it hits me. This place, this crazy little pub in Mottingham, it’s got a heartbeat. It’s messy, loud, and sometimes infuriating, but it’s mine.
So, I lock up, step outside, and the rain’s finally stopped. The streets are glistening under the streetlights, and I take a deep breath. Tomorrow’s another day, and who knows what’ll happen? But for now, I’m just grateful for the madness. Cheers to Mottingham!