On Pubs

Hey, you.
YOU.
Remember pubs?
It's only been 2 weeks since the "lockdown" but I feel like my memory is fading and I feel as though my memory is tinged with rose-coloured spectacles of nostalgia.
Oh pubs. You go to a place and you drink a pint (I don't drink pints) and you play a game of darts (I don't play darts) and you pet the dog in the corner (I absolutely would pet a dog but not all pubs have a dog in the corner). Good times, man. GOOD TIMES.
I'll tell you what I really miss: hanging out with my friends. I suppose that's what my nostalgic misery is about. I miss texting someone and saying, "hey, are you free? Fancy meeting for a drink?" Instead I find myself texting, "Hey, wanna Zoom? I'll be ready in 5 minutes" and then texting invite meeting passwords and nonsense and it is just not the same.
George Orwell famously wrote about the best pub. Where a dog is in the corner and the old boys are smoking pipes and talking and there's a fire and a dartboard and the perfect pub doesn't exist (was the point of the essay, maybe).
I'll tell you what a good pub is though, The Canonbury near Highbury and Islington station. It has a brilliant garden, good food, is near to some decent nightclubs and isn't a million miles away from wherever I have lived (and therefore I can get a cab back, cheaply). Man, I miss The Canonbury. When all of this is over who wants to meet me there for a pint?