Many, many years ago in one of the pubs down the town there was a stool in the corner of the bar, up against the wall between the public, and lounge bars.
Most nights of the week an old guy call E**** would come in, very well dressed, dark blue suit, and a trilby hat, and in the winter a black overcoat, been going in there for donkeys years.
He would always sit on the bar stool in the corner, if someone else was sitting in it when he came in they would get off so he could sit on it, lovely guy, I used to chat to him some nights.
Before he sat down he would hang his hat on a peg on the wall next to the stool, and in the winter his overcoat as well, he would then have two, or three pints, and then go home.
One year the brewery shut the pub for two weeks for a refurb, including knocking down the wall between the two bars, that took the coat peg away, but left a couple of uprights supporting the roof beam (the pub was about 300 years old).
The first night it reopened E**** came in dead on his usual time, looked at the missing wall, kept his coat on, only had one pint, and buggered off again, obviously not impressed.
Next night he was back, this time he ordered a pint, and as the landlord poured it he took a hammer out of his pocket, banged a four inch nail into the wooden upright, hung his hat on the the nail, and sat on his stool.
Landlord never said a word.
