This is where I work. It’s an old bowls club that is now a pub. It still has all the original fixtures including scoreboards and wooden panelling. There are also lots of antiques. It is the place that time forgot. The locals are quite eccentric. Yesterday one shouted, “42″ at me. When I asked him what he meant he said, “42 is the meaning of life.”





Oh apparently it’s haunted as well.
These are dead creepy.





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