Not an entirely successful trip, I admit. I didn’t sleep last night and I felt so tired I didn’t get the maximum pleasure from the experience.
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However, the trip merits a mention, not for the excellent [link2post id=”380″]Smoked Bock[/link2post] (my first beer), nor the characterful, fruity and refreshing Boon Kriek (my second beer, it really was damned good example of cherry-infused lambic), but for their ‘special’ beer which will only be on draught for a limited period of time. It is Meantime Brewery India Pale Ale. Long time followers of this spume of drivel may recall that when [link2post id=”1180″]I reviewed it I said it is my favourite beer ever[/link2post]. I still stick by that assertion; indeed I’ll go as far saying that the draught version is better than the bottled variety. Consequently, this was the most compelling beer experience I’ve had. It is a powerful, personality-filled, complex beer for the noble drinker who is strong of mind and driven by the quest for quality experiences. I bloody loved it and you will too. Get down The Union in Greenwich and order a pint as soon as you can manage it.
On the subject of ‘managing it’ I will point something out before Peter or the partner start mocking me for being a lightweight. I was so spent and generally shagged out that after half of my pint of IPA, and I will claim as a partial defence that two beers followed by half a pint of 7.5% beer added to the feeling of being rather knackered*, that I had to pass the rest of the beer to the partner to finish off. When he’d finished that I was permitted to stagger home and have a five hour nap. I feel a much improved after my afternoon kip.
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* Three beers at lunchtime? One of them 7.5% (albeit only a half of that)? I suppose this means that, according to the Health Select Committee report on alcohol, I am drinking at a hazardous or harmful level. This is laughable rubbish, of course. Like the vast majority of people I have a very healthy relationship with alcohol; one trip to the boozer a week is going to do me more good than harm. If the control-freak, self-appointed, self-serving moral booze police of this country read my blogs I suppose they would think I needed locking up for my own protection… Gits.