End of the drought

Having been off the ale for a while because of tablets, I finally had a pint (well, several) last Thursday at my Liverpool singaround in the Lion Tavern, Moorfields.  I'd had no beer for 32 days, 20 hours and 20 minutes, approximately. Regrettably, this enforced abstinence coincided with a planned trip to stay with my friend Geoff in London, a trip by Wigan CAMRA to Ulverston brewery with a pub crawl around the town, and a friend's stag night, which I joined for one cup of coffee in the Guest House. It was to have been a particularly busy month.

I have been variously asked whether I felt better not drinking (no) or indeed whether I felt any worse (again, no). There were two or three occasions when I really fancied a pint, but for the most part I wasn't yearning for it, even though coffee in a pub isn't satisfying, and doesn't last very long.  And while I can easily drink six pints on a quiet night, I can't manage six coffees. No, the biggest difference I've noticed is that my bank account is about one month's worth of beer money better off.  Plus a lot of obvious jokes!

The first pint last Thursday was the Lion Returns, a house beer brewed for the pub by the George Wright brewery. It was very nice as usual, but I just didn't feel as though I'd been away from beer: it simply felt right, like putting on a comfy pair of slippers (not that I wear slippers). As they say old habits die hard.