Not untypically, in a pub, the "Horn and Trumpet" in Bewdley, Worcestershire.
I'd taken a long walk through the woods from home, and nipped in for a pint of cider and a sandwich. By way of business I knew some of those killed; not bosom buddies but I thought of them as colleagues. We knew one of the waitresses in the restaurant quite well; I think she copped it.
It was a quiet old walk back home.