Everything is fine #3

Often I look out my window just for something to do and what do I see? Joggers, all lycrad up, their phones strapped to their upper arms with some tailor-made piece of elasticated cloth, wireless earphones over their heads. Now that people have been given a daily allowance they’ll be damned if they don’t use it. Yesterday was bright, cloudless, the horizon blurring orange into blue, a perfect evening to bury oneself in the open air. 

Jogging is hard, and takes a persistent character. As Joe Rogan says; conquer your inner bitch. And the inner bitch is your mind clubbing you with the thought that you’ve still got x miles to go, in the meantime, as my old maths teacher used to say ‘it’s tough titty for you fishface’. 

There are periods when you get lost in your own mind, deep on thought crusades, these can be good or bad, when they’re good you can consider them like holiday periods, holiday from the boring, gritty drudgery of quickly putting one leg in front of another continuously for long periods of time. 

I dare say it isn’t remotely enjoyable until it is all over, when you feel the cool sweat on your forehead, limbs jellified, if you pay attention you can feel the warm oxygenated blood flowing throughout the entirety of your vessel nourishing where it is needed, tis a great honour… Jogging boom is an upside of this catastrophe. 

Speaking of booms, the alcohol one is quite predictable. With the current state of affairs there are no real rules on drinking, you can have a lager whenever you want, it’s almost like we’ve become Spanish. I had my first beer today at around eleven o’clock, just after my morning jog. 

Each can in the fridge is like an illusory happiness token, stock, ammo, each one promises to ‘sort you out’ for twenty minutes or so, allows you to entertain the illusion that you are living carefree, you don’t care, you are just having a good time. 

As far as illusions go, it’s one most of us have entertained all of our adult lives, and for my money it is a good one. I’ve discovered shandy, I would recommend watching the dense yellowness of the beer mixing into the clear effervescent liquid of the lemonade. This taste combination takes me back to days of youth, days out in beer gardens in the sun, ignorant, wonderful days. 

I chose shandy because you might think diluting one’s beer would reduce one’ethanol intake somewhat (while lengthening the drinking period) but it turns out one can put nearly a whole beer can into a pint glass, and add nearly a half of lemonade. One is left with a small amount left in the can, the original, a starter before the main event. 

I’ve decided that one of the UK default lagers; Stella is nothing special, I’ve never been into it. In a can it tastes like it has been heavily treated with industrial-strength chemicals. The Polish lagers are the best, Lech, Żywiec and Żubr. Lech is pretty standard lager, but premium, the other two are somewhat darker than the average UK beer, each can packed with freshness, gumption and joy. 

It’s the perfect time to start exploring the products of your local breweries. The Lord’s country- Leicestershire has two behemoths; Everards and Charnwood Brewery. Everards’ best are Tiger and old Original, two thick brown ales that come with a creamy white head at the top. Charnwood brewery have their fingers in  a lot more pies and are vastly appreciated by me purely for the colourfulness of their graphic fox designs. Their ruby ale is Vixen seems to be their most popular, which is a fruity little classic, but they have everything. My favourite is Carousel, a subtle, hoppy ale, the sort of thing you could drink all night long. 

And why wouldn’t you? You’ve got nothing on tomorrow. 

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