Cheshire Lines Club

You can tell the Cheshire Lines is a members-​only club by the fact it’s in the middle of freaking nowhere. To get there involves a set of directions so convoluted and devoid of signposts you get the feeling they’re doing it on purpose so you’ll never discover their little den. The building itself is a corrugated shed at the far end of a sports field, by a train yard. More people have been to the dark side of Jupiter’s moons.
Inside, there’s a bar, a function room and dozens of decades-​old photographs depicting men in horn-​rimmed glasses and grey cardigans, above the words Cheshire Lines Darts Team 1980 or The Cricket Pals 1976. According to the surly barman, the place used to have a verandah before it was burned down by arsonists.
If you have your eightieth birthday coming up soon, live within a half-​mile radius and hold a membership card, you could do worse. As for me, I got cider and free scones. Therefore, I’m happy.