farewell is a lonely sound

Definitely felt the effects of last night’s binge. Years of commando like training in pubs up and down the land, and a litre of Tropicana before bed ensured a surprisingly clear head. However, I could still feel the alcohol behind my eyes and a breathalyser would probably have given an interesting result. So, just a quiet night in to recover and a chance to spend some quality time with Boris Akunin. Alas, it was not to be, and Mr Akunin must wait for another time.

Of course it was young Eddie, the eager, legal, beagle’s fault. Would I join him for a Bucks Fizz and a discussion on 1930’s German agricultural policy. I pleaded and begged, but to no avail. You can’t fight fate, and it was obvious that Stone’s Double IPA and I were meant to be together. So it was I found myself stood at the bar of the Peel in somewhat of a shocked state. With the Spoons festival finishing very shortly, someone had twigged they had better actually put some beers on. So they banged on everything they had. There can be no other explanation for being faced with six beers in this place. Apart from my precious, there was Tokyo Black and the Ecaussinnes Cookie Beer for fans of the exotic. The cookie beer is truly disappointing. According to the tasting notes, “it really does taste like cookies.” Only if cookies taste like a not very good 5 % Belgium beer, it does!

Anyway, Eddie was sticking to one third measures of Stone’s, Tokyo Black, and Caledonian Chocolate Drop. Unlike the cookie crap, the 3.8% Chocolate Drop really did do what it said on the tin. Made with 100% organic chocolate, it delivered a delicate malt-caramel taste, which was very pleasing. Now this practice of 3 third rounds might be ok for eager, legal, beagles, but frankly I see it as very fishy behaviour indeed. Honestly, you may as well be wearing a Gay Pride vest. Everyone knows real men (and women) drink pints. However, after a pint of acetaldehyde flavoured Wadworth Horizon (4%), I saw some sense in his strategy.

It was quite a novel experience to be stood drinking at the bar. Normally I don’t approve of people standing at the bar in Spoons, as it just blocks other drinkers. However, we were stood at the side and it didn’t get busy till much later. Anyway, Eddie was quite right to veto my suggestion for a seat. The young lass serving us was bright and efficient-obviously new to the Spoons circuit. She was also Kylie Minogue sized with knockers you could rest your glass on. Alas, her disappearance was an ominous sign. Eddie was joining me on the Stones, but all that came out was a glass of undrinkable mud. Farewell then my love. There will always be a corner of a dirty table (no 58) that will remind me of the good times we had together. Bereft and broken hearted, we headed for the Trackside. Here we sampled Wickwar Cotswold Way and amused ourselves by bluetoothing Johnny Cash ringtones. Just time for a switch to Copper Dragon 1816 (4.1%) before the cruel mistress of time bid us leave once more.

Unfortunately not possessing a picture of the dark haired vixen of last night, this illustration of culinary delight available at the Trackside will have to suffice. Very Northern. What is Jamie Oliver’s stance on hot or cold spam?


linda said…
Now we know the real reason you frequent the Robert Peel...

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