Do you still drink Down the Swan

There isn't a dart board in the Swan any more. Thy put another table in the corner instead.

It was the wife's idea to come here.  "We should revisit the place while it's still there." The Coach and Horses, the pub we'd met in, closed down during lockdown. All the pubs of my youth are going, falling like dominoes. Pub dominoes.

"It's not the same now," I said. "It's a foodie place."

"Perfect. We'll go there for a meal."

I started out here, playing in the Thursday night darts league. I was 16, not old enough to buy a beer, though my team-mates bought me drinks when I won games, so I practiced hard and made sure I always had a drink in hand.

It was here my darts career started. I was talent spotted by Dave, the captain of the Eagle. He got me a place in his super league team and that led to a game for the county. My life became darts: Thursday night pub league, Monday night club league, Super League, County, then the pro tournaments. Within five years I was world champion.

All the greats started out in a pub like this, Eric Bristow, Phil Taylor, Peter Wright. That won't happen again. It's not just the Swan that hasn't got a board now, every pub in the league went the same way. If you want darts on a Thursday night now you have to go down the Elm Tree and watch the Premier League on Sky sports.

The next Wayne Rooney is sat on his fat arse watching the Premier League on Sky sports, having never kicked a ball in his life, as all the parks have been closed and the schools have sold off their soccer fields. It's the same with darts. The sport has never been bigger, nearly a billion people watched the world finals worldwide, but nobody's playing it. The world finals in fifty years time will be the same players as today, just fifty years nearer death.

"You'd think they'd have your picture on the wall or something," my wife said.

"They don't care about darts," I said. "They don't want people in here playing darts, taking up room, their profit comes from food. Look around the place, there isn't anyone here we know, they've kicked out the locals. They don't want wet led trade."

"Have you booked?" the barmaid asked me.

"Yes" I said. "Bob Croucher."  The name meant nothing to her save for the correlation with the name on her spreadsheet. There was no, 'As in the two times world darts champion Bob Croucher?'

"Table three," she said, "Come with me."

"Can we have the table by the darts board instead," I said. "It's free."

She looked at me strangely. "There no dart board in here," she said.