April 3rd 2016
Following my rough treatment of Mel when she took me to a nearby beer festival, and her rough treatment of my stomach, I elected to take her to a beer festival today and since I didn’t have to be up at half seven to slake the curiosity of a mad woman, it was already getting off to a better start.
After hopping in a taxi we set off towards a small church called “Rothwell” parish, the village hall had been rented out and there was a plethora of different brews on offer; you should have seen Mel’s face light up. As you may have figured out, she’s a beer drinker… I am not.After a few pints of stout though, I was enjoying myself thoroughly.
As much as I would love to report that I somehow found a taste for more beer, that’d be a lie, I didn’t. The whole reason I like stout is because it doesn’t taste like beer, it tastes bitter and of coffee on the end. Mel had a great time, she was trying everything, from stouts to blondes and everything in between- it was nice to see her enjoying herself.
This will be a short post as it’s pretty much a rehash of the post I made a few days ago, so until next time.