I had the best of intentions yesterday. The day got of to a good start. Considering it was a Sunday, I was up early (11:28 to be precise) and getting myself ready for a day of action. First up I stained the decking out back, before the winter came. Secondly I turfed the kids off to the local fair, and used my mighty charm to seduce the Elster. But this was where a spanner was thrown into the works. With all those endorphins released, I got to hankering for a beer, and after such a stellar performance I reckoned I deserved one. The thing is, there was only some Duvel left over from my Belgian trip. Four to be precise. I thought I'd just have the one, and then knuckle down to posting something to the blog. I fear you can guess the rest. Duvel is actually Flemish for the "Devil" and tasting as marvellous and smooth as it does, with an ABV of 8.5% it is easy to see why. Combine four bottles, a roast Sunday dinner and a bit of "How's your Father" and once again the Brister was snoozing away by early evening. Getting old isn't as bad as I thought it was going to be....
No comments:
Post a Comment