How did he get here?

The soft chant of the greyhound race commentator echoes in the background. The odd beer glass clinks, the sound of a newspaper turns.  Condensation on the outside of the beer glass drips down. One by one, he watches each bead roll down towards the coaster below. In contrast, his toasty whiskey chaser sits ever so still beside. He looks around slowly and notices that nobody notices him. He sips his beer in silence. There is an almost velvet like serenity to the old, run down pub. His bones ache and his eyes are sore. Another beer will make it all better. He thinks.