Electric word life, it means forever and that's a mighty long time, but I'm here to tell you there's something else. Searsons.

We found a pub with leather couches. The one Sean and I claim sits in front of a real fireplace. When the fire dies down people come to stoke it and I repress an urge to hug them, to smile in their faces, to ask their names and offer to carry their empty trays back to the bar.

These same people serve us chicken and leek pie. They serve us spring rolls with mango chutney. They serve us bangers and mash. Kopparberg's pear cider? They serve us that with ice. With a feast pulling at our forks, we eat, drink and watch soccer (fine, football). On a flat screen. This place feeds more than stomachs.

I think Sean and I lead responsible, kind lives and I also think that if we both happened to die on that couch, with the food, fire and flat screen before us, we might wake in the afterlife to the exact same surroundings. The bar's called Searsons, but I call it the big H, ma friends.