Beer and I have always had a pretty good relationship, a reliable old friend that helped me relax after a long day. We have shared countless celebrations and milestones together and beer has never felt threatened when I strayed for a bottle of wine or bubbly or wanted to bring a little tequila into the mix. This arrangement has worked for us for a number of years without so much as a raised voice so to have beer turn its back on me so suddenly, and right before Christmas, has come as quite a shock.
I can’t be sure what started the rift but it seemed to be around the time that the family was all hit with a nasty gastro bug. Once we had recovered sufficiently I thought it might be nice to include beer in our Christmas Eve celebrations but no sooner had I finished the first drink and I knew something wasn’t right, but I figured that I was still recovering from being sick.
Christmas Day I was determined to not drink anything in case there was any further interference with the celebrations, but when I saw that Pol Roger Champagne was on offer with lunch I decided that I could live the the consequences of just one glass. I gingerly sipped on my glass through lunch and then another before I realised it was the best I had felt all day! Over the course of the day Mr Bond’s mother and I finished no less than six bottles of bubbly and I woke the next morning with not even the slightest headache.
I assumed that whatever issue’s I was having had been resolved and so a few days later I tried to make it up to beer by having a quiet afternoon drink.
Apparently beer wasn’t ready to make up.
And still isn’t.
I am sorry for whatever I have done to offend beer and want us to work through it together. I am hoping this is just a rough patch and not the beginning of the end.
I would hate to have to start drinking cider…
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