Looking in the Mouths of Bees

I fail to find the Bees Mouth for half an hour, despite having been there before. I wander up and down Western Road, and everything is suddenly new and foreign and colder. I ask people in newsagents where it is; some know, some don't. Either they are mistaken or I cannot follow directions. I walk up and down Western Road two or three times more. I ring Claire and Sarah. The latter gives me directions and I finally find the Bees Mouth. Blue neon of the sign hidden above the smokers canopy. No excuse really, as I've said, I've been here before. Enter into the mouth of the Bees Mouth. Dark beer and shades of night and brown. Small corridors and backrooms.
They are not here.
They have already gone to the restaurant.
I cannot remember what restaurant they are going to.
I catch the bus home and promise myself that before I go out for Chloe's birthday next year, I will definitely
check directions beforehand.
Even if I have been there before.
Even if I do pass it every day.