I was 23 and one of my closest friends had just died. Our friendship group all but moved into the Bard’s back room, insulated from time and gossip, doing our best to comfort one another

The Crown Bard in Rhyl had always been there, on the main road on the way out of town. Despite living a five-minute walk away, I don’t remember ever going there in my teens, but I must’ve passed it thousands of times. Local wisdom dictated it was where the rugby lads drank, while the pub directly opposite was where you’d find the football crowd.