I didn't mourn when it was finished.

Two pubs linked by the thread of a river, friendship and night running. Jerry and I ran from Shoreham along the River Darent to the village of Farningham. Our destination was the Chequers, a horseshoe shaped, corner pub with a central bar. It featured strange panels showing painted scenes, strange lamp stands, eclectic knicknacks and middle aged men in cargo shorts. These guys were flirting with the foreign sounding bar staff and didn't spare us a glance. I had a half pint of Chinook chosen because it reminded me of large, noisy helicopters. This was further reinforced by the taste and colour, somewhat syrupy, orange and reminiscent of aviation fuel.
I didn't mourn when it was finished. 
Running the six miles to reach the pub was a dream. The pace quick, the air mild and the route one of my favourites. It was truly memorable, we were Perseid's meteor showers, my Vibrams merely kissing the ground along the North Downs. I don't know if it was the avgas, sorry, Chinook or my age or a combination but the return journey under head torch was harder, my legs were wooden and my Five Fingers lead. Some great conversation and a noisy encounter with a large animal, part wolverine/ part dog kept me moving but I was happy to reach The Crown in Shoreham. I love this pub, there is a real warmth there that is evident every time I visit. This time I settled for the tried and trusted, a glass of beautifully chilled San Miguel while Jerry lost me with some very involved physics theory involving (I think) Galileo and circles. It was nod and grunt time for me!