I’m visiting a small village to see a community play. The stage is set in a small square box garden at the back of the building. There’s a small row of seats but the rest of the audience is encouraged to stand behind underneath the awnings with plastic pints of beer. Rows of bunting cross the grass and in the middle sits a cardboard train from which the characters emerge. There’s some great in-jokes based on the villagers but it’s not hard to see who they’re about. After the show I feel the need to socialise with my fellow audience but I’m limited to how many drinks I can have and want to visit another establishment on the high street. I wander past the local chain pub followed by a micropub who has outside seating and the stillaging is on display through a glass window which has a Cask Marque sticker on. Next door is another micropub painted red with iron gates but the licensee is still getting ready to open for the evening. I suddenly realise that I haven’t donated anything for the community play, but rather than head back to the hall I decide to put some money in the church’s poor box.
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