The rainbow is grey and at its end the Rheola in the shape of a brick. Rain presses the windows to squeeze out pints of golden bubble filled with the summer when I was six. I stayed with my grandmother for the first time, while my parents fled from the responsibilities of child care. As they slept in their tent I woke to a room that resembled a galaxy filled with precious metal. This pub is where I come to escape – just for an hour I am back, waking to that bedroom and a day of possibilities.
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