Raining Cats and Dogs
And just what would bring this super-fit specimen of humanity (cough!) to such a dilapidated state at the end of each day?
And just what would bring this super-fit specimen of humanity (cough!) to such a dilapidated state at the end of each day?
Not the prettiest beer that I have ever had, which was to be expected after spending a night under a table in the back of the bar (the beer, not me), but it was dang tasty; some perfumed hoppiness up front, malt in the middle and a residual bitterness that lures you back for another one.
Well, I managed to follow the route exactly as envisioned, but some of the timings were a bit off, and that is the joy of the under-planned open-ended weekend crawl.
It was going to be over three hours before the celebration beer was to be poured and celebrated, so I sauntered over to an open patch of wall near the back end of the bar area, leaned against it, pulled my belly in so as not to block the folks coming and going from the garden and the khazi, and wondered how I was going to pace myself for the duration.
I was always aware of its existence, and had always planned on going, next year. But things and stuff and yada yada … Well, next year finally happened, last year. And I made the most of it.
You can only eat baked beans and fish finger sandwiches for several days in a row before the urge to get something more substantial becomes overwhelming.