What a night. Thank fuck it’s nearly over.
Olivia’s sat at the empty bar waiting for the rest of us to finish. Livs works across the road, but she’s new to Liverpool, and usually spends most of her free time in here anyway, whether we’re open or shut.
It’s getting into the wee hours of…
It hits around 1am and the bar is heaving, as per. I wriggle through the masses, stacks of glasses wedged under my left arm, balanced precariously, waiting to tumble over from a stray elbow or a wayward backhand.
Kez stands behind the bar, chatting to a woman whose face I can’t see. Classic Kez. He…