Earthquake

 Tonight I went out to the Burnt Pig Ale Ouse for possibly the last time before further restrictions arrive - becasue COVID 19 O future reader - and I made this trip not just because I love the place but also because, frankly, they had on Urban Chicken's latest effort: Earthquake - a coffee milk stout. Stout? Yes, stout. It became my favoured style of ale around 2017 and then sort of... well, apparently I am a beardy stout drinker now.

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Oh, you would? Lovely. The first thing that struck me on being served a whole pint (I usually have halves because I am that person in the pub) was the consistency of it. Good biscuit-coloured head in the dim light and a deep darkness reminiscent of a recently abandoned brown field site. Good musty coffee aroma delights the nose, a roasted sensation wafting across the gravel car-park only just starting to be overgrown by the flowering weeds. Good and rich, pregnant with the promise of a solid stout like the ground waiting for redevelopment. Maybe a flat for a professional or else some social housing, either way, something is coming. And the thickness was beguiling, deep and dark. An edge of Saxon warband atop the slightly brown darkness.

Onto the tongue and the reward is a thick viscous mixture, subtle dry coffee with a hint of something else besides. Good thick milk texture on the middle of the taste with a good running of the malt down the sides, big and full. Wallowing luxuriously as it turns over and over in coffee and lactose so that it feels like a breakfast ale in the late evening. A fitting and filling pint that would suit the labourer returning from a long shift just before they go home to the rest of the family. Full of the sort of exotic flavours that, though ahistorical, makes me automatically think of a pre-Norman world and then canals being used for industrial transport. The horse plodding slowly but doggedly along the tow path as the hedgerow and brambles slowly creep into it and onto the edge of the canal wharf. The longboat drifting laden with steel or textiles as the birds fly overhead from the meadows stretching into the middle distance. Copses of tangled oak and ash pepper the landscape, picking out hollows in the fields, like the coffee here.

It ends, though, it finishes. A warmth spreading down the gullet, a coffee dryness and then it is gone. It's good, really good. Deep and dark and perfect for a rainy evening where the weather has turned and the cold is seeping in through the water. Whipped clouds scud across a darkening sky as the sun sets in bruising of the light, street lamps burn, the room goes darker, the stout gets thicker and the fact that it is a pint of it really starts to hit. Not so strong that it will leave me with a headache but enough that it knocks the day on the head. Not so think that it feels like a meal or dessert but enough that it demands some chips and gravy on the walk home. A demand that I clearly gave into because it would be rude not to.

Overall? This is a brilliant stout. I am glad I got out to have it. If you get a chance, get out and have it. Lockdown is coming. This will set you up.

Urban Peaks (again)

It's not often, indeed this may be the first time, that I get the chance to try an ale a second time with a difference. Certainly not overnight. But, here I am with that opportunity.

It's a second bout with Urban Peaks but, this time, it has had a round with a nitro nozzle. Republica had it right and inform me as I write this that they are drop dead gorgeous. Oh, well, I was thinking of their other one: it's back and ready to go.

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Nitro definitely improves the body and removes the feeling that this is watery. For a start there is a strong biscuit head, the honey and almond hit the nose more heavily and instantly grab attention. There's a touch of mill-building in the sun about it. Dry brick grandeur making one squint in the light. The quiet brooding of something that has faced adversity and survived, changed but unbowed.

The cream previously noted, one of the lingering memories from last night's review, makes a bigger play on the opening of the taste and there is a definite hit of the honey there this time. Down the gunnels that honeyed sweetness continues, allowing the dry nuttiness of the almond and malt to make up the middle.

The chocolate remains subtle, warming more than the alcohol, drawing the honey and nuts together and hanging around in the aftertaste. It puts me in mind of a factory town humming with post industrial activity, but it's pre-gentrification so it's not affectation or ostentatious. It's honest and sincere. A kind of satisfied terrace with the extra brick moulding running through, made with care and pride. What a difference a nitro nozzle makes!

The whole thing hangs together more, not that it was bad last night, it wasn't. It was a bit like the terrace, but with the patches of pebbledash and stone facing where people have tried to improve on the original and hidden it instead. The pebbledash is gone here, the brickwork touched back up, the gardens open and the gates freshly painted. I liked what it was last night. But this is back in the big leagues.

I've said it before but Urban Pig (link) was a stout that belonged in the company of Desserts in a Can and Macchiato (link). It played in the premier league and could destroy all but the biggest rivals. This, nitro Urban Peaks, is a worthy stablemate to that triumph.

On a warm day, after shopping and regretting the pizza takeaway last night, the slippery honey is welcome. Not too heavy, nicely balanced at the 5.5% ABV this is back in its comfort zone. As am I. Two trips out to the Crafty One back to back? Truly I am spoiled!

Urban Peaks

Good evening! I'm back! Lovely to have an excuse to go to the Crafty One, and as excuses go, this is the best. Heard it was on tap on Facebook about half an hour ago and came out to see. What is it? Urban Peaks brewed by Urban Chicken and Alter Ego - both of which are proudly local to my neck of the woods. And, well, it's been a bit of a long week back at work, so I thought I would go down and sample the latest because, well, it would be rude not to.

It is worth saying at this point that I have reviewed this ale anew as, the following day, it was dispensed with nitro and... well, let's just say this review is out-dated now. You can find the new review by clicking on these words. Do it. Do it now.
 

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It's a collaborative stout so it has the pedigree and the care and attention going for it straight off the bat, this promises much before you even get round to looking at it - it has big shoes to fill. Deep dark aspect, like the depths of a deep sea trench, but calm and placid demeanour. No fuss, no head, no drama. Collected, this chicken is not headless. Aroma is subtle, faint almond and a distant honey echo on the back end. A call from far away to make you strain to hear, the hairs prickle, the night draws in. The chicken is loose. And the initial impression is thus set, this is going to be subtle and without too much in the way of flamboyance. After things like Pit Pony (link) and Urban Pig (link) this is going to have a lot to live up to - a full body of malt and oatmeal, a deep plateau of chocolate, a burn of soft honey...

Smooth cream on the tongue, lighter than a dessert stout but more than a milkshake IPA. Soft, like down but without the drying dusty quality. Slips over the tongue, not too heavy or wet. There's a familiarity there, signature of the Urban Chicken stable but lacking the usual fullness that comes with it, almost like there's a gap in the ale somewhere where the rain gets in. The subtle warm honey gathers at the edges and briefly threatens proper violence before the almond makes itself known on the precipice. Then the cream remains along with the coating of honey to make the throat comfortable after a week of taking lessons.

It's not bad, not bad at all, but the subtle flavours are betrayed a little by the body of the stout itself, it lacks the oomph of what I have come to expect and lacks the thickness that would allow that understated darkness and lack of drama to become a proper player. Like a music video mismatched to the soundtrack the notes are all there but remixed down and away from the original power and the necessary grab to make it all the way to the number one spot. Indeed, the strength of 5.5% ABV is hidden well, so that there is no unwelcome alcohol burn, but, at the same time, the body isn't enough to carry it. Had this been an imperial then maybe that could have built the power needed to let those subtle flavours shine brighter, but at least this isn't going to have me falling asleep when I've finished!

In the background the Cardigans tell me that they can erase and rewind, in a remix stripped down to the bass. It's a solid sentiment. But for the physical distance, the screens and the giving of details, the place is as it always was. As it should be. Happy chatter, good natured drinking. The quiet near the cans a haven as it has always been. The serious business of reviewing ale aside, it is clear that there is still life here and that the lockdown has left scars but not, thankfully, much else in the business.

Unassuming, that is how I like to think of this part of the Crafty One, like the stout. It's not a heavy thick weight like the imperials I've had of late. But it's not watery either. There's a lack of body that I usually associate with the stouts of the Urban Chicken stable, sure, and there's an argument that none of the feature flavours are bold enough to make themselves felt as a consequence. Indeed, were it not for the pump clip I would have been hard pushed to identify any chocolate in this brew - my initial impression was that there wasn't any and even knowing that I was supposed to look for it, it doesn't really pounch above the warmth of the honey. And that, itself, is but a shade. There's a hint it could be bigger but the watery nature does rather dominate as you go for bigger swigs even if the honey rapidly fills in and prevents anything too untoward.

A car starts to careen on a long desert highway. The almond builds sip on sip, an element of biscuit and Battenburg, crowding that honey with a slightly drier taste. No drying of the mouthfeel but less wet. Like a good wetsuit or a lady driving a car with her feet. No, it's the wrong music video for the song, but the games are gone for now: everyone has lost their favourite. Luckily this stout remains.

A glimmer of an end, a promise of grander things. And a reminder that two brewers can be greater than the sum of their parts. I am glad that I came out to have this one. I am glad that it was brewed and available. It is great to know that collaborations such as this exist. But it does not compare as well as one might hope to the greats that I have had in the past. The almond never really rises to make the grade as it ought, though it is there in the dry nuttiness, and the chocolate is just too subtle to really make a difference. The honey plays its part, trying to cover for the carbonation (or the lack thereof, not a bad thing in and of itself), but, again, never really has the power needed to make the most of the contribution. Someone else opined that maybe it was oats that were missing, something to give that cream something to ride on and surf down, something to let that honey hang around a bit longer and be counted. I don't know, I am no brewer. If you are able, and you feel safe enough, then this is worth venturing to the pub to have, absolutely. As critical as I am, this is still good ale and a decent stout, it won't be around very long!

However, what must last, what must survive: this place. It is good to be back. I didn't realise how much I'd missed it but that is testament to the deliveries during lockdown. Highly welcome, very appreciated, but they could never replace a visit.

And so, as I'm here, I follow up this stout with a DDH IPA from Howling Hops called Top Buzzer. This is a thick hop-forward beast of an ale, still 5.6% ABV and a great fruity follow up to the dry almond aftertaste of the main event. I can heartily recommend it for the citrus power and the bright colour to match the gregarious mouthfeel. That isn't the review though, so I shall leave it at that!

Wake Up and Smell the Gose

 It's a weekend. Just in case that passed you by! And, well, I have some excellent ales bought in from the Crafty One, a fantastic pub in the shape of The Burnt Pig and so, obviously, I'm deciding to drink an ale I got on special at the local supermarket. Because of course I am. Now, full disclosure, I have never been a fan of Gose as a style of ale, but these were on offer!

I refer, of course, to Wake Up and Smell the Gose from those wonderful people at Eviltwin Brewing. I remember them mainly because of the Molotov Cocktail I had that one time in Leeds (link). But here I am trying a Gose. Would you like to know more?

On the opening of the can (and it's all canned nowadays) one is hit by the aroma, as always. This grows on the pour and it took me a while before I could properly place it - it is, of course, a blueberry bush. Not the blueberries themselves, more on ytem later, but the bush. We have one growing in the garden and, this year, we had a decent crop from it. Being out in the garden during the hot weather that was and is the harbinger of mass extinction this year meant that I got to smell it more than I am used to, and this ale smells a lot like that bush. This is not an unpleasant experience, it's a comforting and welcome smell. When one lifts this to drink it is accompanied by the smell of a bush and then salt, plenty of salt. Again, not unwelcome, but decidedly different.

Once in the mouth, and that is the best place for any ale, one is allowed to have something of a three-part journey. It opens with a distinct fruity burst, definite blueberries here. The actual berries, not the bush, and with plenty of carbonation. This seems hop forward and is very much part of the added puree that the can tells me was used. Again, this is unexpected from a Gose (well, by me, who has avoided them for the best part of a few years) but not unwelcome. Then the middle hits and it's all Saison and slightly citric but heavily salty. This is the part of the profile that I find the least enticing and the bit that reminds me the most of the Gose that I had a long time ago (did I even review that?) in that it is a bit too salty. But, for that, there is that hint of a sour edge and I am long a convert to sours, so that is good. In short, the middle part of the taste is very confusing for me but not unpleasant. then it ends, abruptly, with a slight yeastiness and some lactose to fill things out and the softer part of the blueberry tang on the opening lingering by the back of the throat.

In the aftertaste, one still has to reckon with the salt from the middle, but there is plenty of the blueberry puree and lactose remaining to soften it and spread it out. Now, I am a big fan of salt in my food: from bacon to eggs to... oh, well, basically a Full English Breakfast. I like salt. I have not usually enjoyed it in an ale before. But this... this works. I... I like it. It does say that it is an Imperial Breakfast Gose and, well, it is a Sunday (I may have had a Full English Breakfast for tea just now) and so it does rather fit the general mileu of the day. Mind you, is it Imperial at 6.5% ABV? I don't know. I'm not going to argue with a brewery that is this good however and they say it is. So I guess it is.

Would I have this for breakfast? You know, I perhaps would. In the right circumstances, I think it would be a proper morning ale and the sort that wouldn't leave you trying to get through the day half cut and with nary a thought you can hold together. As it is, I am having it late on a Sunday afternoon having done nothing of any great consequence (the lawn remains unmowed, the floors unvacuumed, etc etc) and it is pleasant and welcome. The biggest thing here is the fact that I bought one on offer yesterday and had it with tea too - prompting me to buy more today. And, as I say, I'm not a Gose fan. A back-handed compliment it may be, but it is a big one.

B.P.A.V.K.

 It's a chocolate, strawberry, marshmallow, Imperial Stout in a 440ml can and it has been waiting for me for a while. So it was past time that I got round to it and I have the excuse of having been back at work proper for a week and a couple of days. Doesn't sound like much (hats off to all the amazing people who worked through the summer) but it has been reasonably full on.

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A fair while back now, I ordered a strawberry chocolate marshmallow imperial stout from

The Crafty One Bar and Bottle Shop

. It was, of course, duly delivered to my door.

I have now opened the can. I have begun to drink. It smells very strongly of strawberry chocolate marshmallow - heavier on the sweet end than the strength of the chocolate with a hint of Angel Delight hanging around the corners. Despite it being 10% ABV it tastes very sweet and welcoming. Dangerously so. And it is soft on the mouth, like a bit puffy marshmallow - who would have thunk?

On the sides of the mouth there is a bare hint of slippery chocolate mousse but this is mainly confected strawberry and sugar. It's gone down well with Willow. Very reminiscent of the original Dessert in a Can that I had a few years ago, actually, and about the same strength. The addition of the strawberry really helps with the enormous sweetness of the marshmallow and stops it being the sort of thing that makes my teeth feel all funny. However, the strength of the alcohol definitely rests in the stomach - making it easier to kick back a bit after a full week back. I moan, but it has been a full week and the students have clearly been happy to be back, making it good to be back.

Not much head, the aroma continues all the way down the glass. Ray Stanz would likely enjoy this on a cold winter's evening or out camping. Zuul would probably enjoy making it into something that would destroy all mankind, and it would be largely unthreatening were it not for the huge ABV. That alone would annoy Venkman by stepping on a church, to be honest. Still, at least the crossing of the streams would allow the Angel Delight strawberry goodness to cascade over the remains of the battle to allow for joyous consumption for a long while afterwards. Assuming you don't mind it having been irradiated.

In short and in closing, this is a good ale with which to end the week and likely to allow for some heavy sleep. Enjoy it, dive into the pool of whipped milk sugar-laced high-E-number count pink eighties icon material, swim luxuriously in the wafting aroma of deep strwaberry joy and allow the dark heart of this stout to wipe out all of mankind in keeping with the schemes of a spirit that thinks it's a god and is currently possessing a human from a fridge. At least, I think so, that may be the plot of a film with Bill Murray instead.

Bourbon V.B.M.

 It's wet and windy, work is on the way and I was wondering what would I do? How many 'w's can I get into alliteration? Should I beware of the dog, doggo or doglet? What is the circumference of a moose? (It's Douglas Adams with his face in a pie multiplied by Michael Palin squared) And so it was that I wended my way to a can of Very Big Moose by Fierce that I got delivered back in Lockdown from the Crafty One - I had two delivered because one was part of the cost of a bike from a friend - and I really must do a post about the amazing things done by the Crafty One soon.

However, right now, it's about an imperial stout aged in American Oak barrels that formerly held bourbon and so would you like to know more?

This took a bit of choosing - I was going to go for a stout, I knew that, but I wanted something worth it and big because it is the last chance I'll get for a while to drink beer going back to work. The trouble is, there are some excellent examples of big stouts that I have been building up, as evidenced by the post on the You're Not You When You're Thirsty (which, apparently, ran into copyright issues because now it's called The One We Can't Talk About and I've got one of those in too...). You see, the Crafty One is a bit too good at getting great stouts in and I'm not good enough at getting them drunk. After a few false starts I settled on this one for... well, I don't know why, but the fact is I opened it and poured.

And what a pour! It came out black and dark, with a biscuit coloured head and an actually noticeable fizz. I don't know what I was expecting from a big stout, it's 12.5%, but a fizz wasn't really it. Instant hit of the aroma in the air, pungent and thick, as one would expect. The can claims that there are vanillin flavours and I don't know what that word means, but I suspect it is vanilla-based from the oak like what Innis & Gunn do with their ales, but that's not the nose of this at all. No, the nose is deep and pungent, thick, dark and... a bit like a whiskey if it had been blended into a milkshake? Yes, milkshake, but with whiskey, that's it.

Willow commented that the can made her think it should be either mint or pistachio, and I can see where she is coming from, but I had no such expectations as I took a sip. Instantly, there's a hit of the alcohol on the tongue, very reminiscent of my limited experience with whiskey. My friend from Carlisle who knows about such things (well, I should clarify, there are two who take their whiskey seriously and several who, although serious, are not in the same league) would sometimes try to ply me with whiskey and get me to understand its complexities and tastes. The feeling on the opening of this is similar to what I got then - strong and whiskey. This is followed by the fizz, yes fizz in a stout (and it is surprisingly not incongruous, it's like finding out that Sandy Toksvig replaced Stephen Fry fronting QI, it shouldn't work. But then you watch it and it sort of does and you understand why it was done, even if you think QI has kinda moved far beyond its original charm), and then a calming velvety chocolate at the end settles over the remains of the mouthful. The sides are awash in the usual thick maltiness and the overall impression is one of potential conflict.

Now, I can see the case for the vanilla stylings, it is subtle but it rests on the chocolate malt and the fire of the whiskey remaining from the barrels and super-charged by the 12.5% ABV. It draws the experience together because it hits at the same time as the fire of the alcohol, suffuses the bashing waves of chocolate at the end and laps gently at the edges of the texture. When the aftertaste kicks in it is with the memory of the fire from the whiskey barrels and the calming shroud of the fog of vanilla from the oak in the barrels. It's hard to properly explain, but this is a very big moose of a stout, meaning the name is fitting, and there is a feeling that one is in the Canadian wilderness awaiting the approach of a large shaggy animal from the depths of a frozen forest. Luckily, the taste is enough to keep one warm and fuzzy. Or maybe it's the strength. I don't know. One thing is certain, it is as surprising as the lyrics to I'm a Lumberjack by Monty Python, but not in anything like the same way.

One thing is clear: it is a sipper of an ale. I wouldn't recommend taking anything other than sips. It sits well in the glass, it works well at room temperature. It is indulgent, luxurious. Willow said it was exactly like the 72% cocoa Peruvian single origin chocolate that Moser Roth used to do through Aldi (I like to be topical, and beer and Aldi are topical on Twitter right now, right?) in that she expected it to be minty (and, indeed, was convinced it was for a good year) and yet it wasn't all because of the green in the packaging. The can has a lot of green, it is true. However, I cannot speak to that. I do not detect any mint (or pistachio) but I do detect the whiskey. I detect the malt. It should be a milkshake. It is not, it is a stout. And the day is wet and miserable, so the strength and the fire is perfect and welcome. Even the feeling that the alcohol is trying to escape through my nostrils (another feature of the ill-fated attempt to explain whiskey to me) is not off-putting. It feels very much like this stout is just a delivery system to inject the whiskey, sorry, bourbon into my system.

Like the vast and foreboding wilderness of the conifer forests of Canada or the Taiga in northern Russia, the still blackness of the stout drowns all sound to be left with an enveloping and plush silence, fat with the potential of life and imagination, ready for the cold reflected light of the moon to illuminate in monochrome. But not to drain the world of colour, rather to cast it in a new and artistic light. That is the overall feeling of this ale, surprising and inconstant but welcoming in its eccentricity and comforting in its darkness with the edge of the alcoholic strength. If you are planning on a hike to see the sun at midnight or even experience perpetual night then this is the ale I would recommend taking with you to have when you strike up camp and wait for the aurora borealis to begin. That might also explain the green on the can, come to think of it!

For those looking for a rating, you are maybe on the wrong beer blog, but I would rate it Very Big on the Moose scale.

Critical Temperature

Thank goodness that the weather has calmed! I mean, tropical storm, but at least it's not another heatwave. 2020 has brought many things (and I do mean to blog about some of them) but heatwaves... well, there's been rather too many of them. It seems, therefore, somewhat fitting that when I popped into The Crafty One Bar and Bottle Shop (largely because I could) that I pick up a coffee-porter by the name of Critical Temperature from Atom because, well, it is.

It's a mark of how long it's been since I have blogged that I honestly can't recall if this is the first mention of the brewery or not. Still, it's not terribly important if it is or it is not. Would you like to know more?

The style, coffee porter, rather gives a few things away from the off: it's not a stout, it's not sweet and it's not a stout. It does this because the name includes the hidden word: porter. And coffee. In fact, it rather tells you that you're not in for a dessert experience. Which is perfect, because I was attempting to recreate the experience of an annual trip to the Proms with my father and brother, which includes a decent ale on the train to London. The fact that it has coffee in it, in the name at least, means that it is the sort of ale that would usually feature on such a trip as a pick-me-up rather than a put-me-to-sleep. And so it proves on the pour. I shall be honest, it has not been long since I got it from the shop and I walked rather quickly back, so it was a bit fizzier than I would have liked and was a bit lively in the glass!

That said, it calms quickly and rapidly expands in aroma. It has a pleasant sort of roasted smell up close, putting me in mind of the old coffee shop on Bank Street in Carlisle that I don't even know whether or not still exists. So, making a reference to a particular smell that probably no one reading this will know. I'm a man of the people, I am, regular populist. Anyway, where was I? Oh, Carlisle, on a train. Yes, this is coffee heavy up close and as someone who isn't a huge fan of coffee you might think this was a bad thing. But it's not. It's hard and meaty, it knows what it is and it is definite and not insipid. These days, few ales are. But this is a definite aroma and, for that, it is good. Like one expects of a porter, it knows its way around, guv. Good colour, dark and swirling, and a nice head on it.

Into the taste and I was surprised. A lot of my drinking has been dessert stouts (like the amazing Desserts in a Can from Amundsen that I hope I will get round to talking about on here) and so the fact that this is not sweet is something of a change. Once I had got over my initial confusion, borne almost entirely out of expectation, then we were into the real territory. Second sip! Bit fizzy around the edges, soft and velvety in the middle, with the texture of flat cola. This is not a bad texture for a porter to have, it is smooth and gentle. The aroma plays a role, of course it does, pushing for a rougher edge that never quite appears, and the roof of the mouth plays host to the dryness of the bubbles and the coffee taste. The roast never dominates, never pushes aside, and the dryness never becomes bitter - but it remains not sweet. As it pulsates down to the back of the throat there isn't any roar of the alcohol, and it is 5.5% so it's no lightweight, and then it drains pleasingly down the throat like a cough lozenge without the sugar. What I'm saying is, it's a porter done well with coffee overtones, exactly what it says it's going to be.

As I am not, in fact, on a train; this beer works well for me. I can imagine it being the sort of ale that I would enjoy on a trip to London and the sort of size that would make for amusing tales of how I managed to find a glass/cup that would take it. It's 440ml, which appears to be something of an industry standard now. Back when I was posting more regularly such ideas were far off and bottle still dominated (was it really only two years ago?) but I have spotted a definite trend to this size. I'm not complaining, it meant that the lively head and pour was well contained by my pint glass!

And yes, it moves through the glass well. the first taste is very much a facet of the coffee, but as I get through the ale I find that it remains dry without becoming rough and brusque. It stays smokey without becoming like a BBQ sauce or paprika spice. In short, the more I drink, the clearer the balance becomes in the taste and I can't and won't complain. Unlike the very hot weather that has had me in actual shorts for a while (I know, and I call myself a northerner too! Mind you, I don't even have a big coat) this has been comfortable and pleasant. It's not an A-Team theme tune but it is a nice little drinker to have on the way to somewhere (my somewhere will have takeaway Chinese food and a Prom performance on the telly) without spoiling one's appetite or making one tipsy enough not to be able to enjoy another ale.

One thing has been pretty constant, I don't tend to have more than a single beer on any given day, because I am a. a lightweight and b. boring. Oh, and 3. me. Anyway, this is the sort of ale that, if you give enough space, you can probably risk having something else later. I like that. One final point: it does say treacle on the can, I can't detect it but that doesn't mean it's not there. I suspect that is what stops it getting too dry for me and keeps things balanced, but I honestly can't say I spotted it. Maybe it's the texture (I went with velvety rather than treacle, but the effect is much the same).

Drink best when waiting for something with anticipation. Autumn. Waiting for winter. Leaves are golden, squirrels are eating acorns and there's a band playing in the park bandstand with an accordion, drum and fiddle. Somewhere there are women singing in harmonies without instruments. There are pine trees and a bat is courting a maiden fair. Hoo-hoo, says the wise owl and you take a sip that lets the alcohol warm and the coffee keep alert. Settle, rest, sip again and close your eyes...

You're Not You When You're Thirsty

 Hmm, cobwebs. I can clear that. Oh, and some dents, they'll buff out eventually. Oh, is this thing still on? Oh, oh! It is. Sorry, stream of consciousness there, I apologise. I am just finishing off a You're Not You When You're Thirsty from S43. Obviously I picked it up from a delivery from the Crafty One (see here) because they have been amazing over the Lockdown (I mean, they're amazing generally, but offering beer deliveries since March has been amazing. Rubbish for my bank balance, but amazing for all other things).

Would you like to know more?