A sun kissed swim to start the day.
Shame it was indoors.
Still, the estuary wilds sun penetrated through the glazing in the converted Essex gas showroom.
I'm not making this up. Honest.
My swimming companion was quite randomly a friend from back in the village.
I quit after 30 lengths when it became clear that she had the beating of me.
Work filled up the morning, and then...
I was free.
To make a knob of myself.
I was invited to judge [ha!] the Colchester Beer Festival.
The judging started at midday.
Add in the factor that I appear to have done bloody Dry January by mistake.
But boy. What a way to fall off the wagon.
I rolled up at the Arts Centre and was told that I was 'judging' Porters.
I have absolutely NO IDEA what Porters are.
Are they like Special Brew?
I was a little alarmed to see a jug of water at the judge's table.
A primer was soon served up by a man in a skirt.
Our host carefully explained the etiquette for judging beer.
Isn't it all about downing it in one?
The question was posed:
"Does it make you want to drink more?"
EVERY beer has that impact upon me.
Eight [I think?] Porters then followed.
It wasn't quite like the Pepsi Challenge, but I treated it as such.
I'll have THAT ONE over there, etc.
A brief look at the scores on the doors come the close, and whaddya know - my ratings went up as the beer consumption went up.
At least I was consistent.
Judging duty done, I then disappeared to soak up more BOOZE fest action.
Half an hour later and I was called back for round 2.
I wasn't expecting that.
Five hours later and I was done.
I set off on some drunken sports clothes shopping around Colchester.
At least I choose my moments.
I managed to sober up back at base before Anna returned from South London.
A late, late work shift brought Thursday to a close.