There are things that I took as certainties; day break rising, evening drawing, noontime stretching. Then there are things that I took for granted; the warning hisses of the stable cats as I walked past, the impatient stamping of horses ready to leave; the warming comfort of friendships maturing. I should have taken more time and care with my companions, realised that they were there, leaned on them when I needed and opened my arms to them when the were struggling.
I have been watching you closely. Sneaking glances from the bar, sweeping between the Pickwick and the Micawber snugs, creeping up from the cellar. I have watched tentative steps to friendships evolve between folk who would normally not meet but have become entwined though events and games from outside my George. I can see tribe and kin developing, tolerance and acceptance blooming, affections and closeness flourishing, wound tight and strengthened by the ability to come to a place away from their base to drink and to laugh and to eat and to love.
They come to my George before contests, after trials, whether celebrations of victories or sympathies for defeats. I can see them grow. I can see their bonds. I can see the roots stretch, secure and balance the broadening companionship amongst them. You should come to my George and feel for yourself the welcome of my arms, the security of my love and the embrace of my eternity.