This week has been crazy: work has been nuts; a presentation of the communications plan to all the managers at the college last thing tomorrow; an email inbox that won’t stop growing; too many meetings; the car failed its MOT, got an expensive repair, had to have the re-test abandoned and go back to the garage for another expensive repair, which has meant running around like a blue-arsed fly; I'm stressed; I’m tired; I haven’t written; I have nothing to write; I’ve been washing up, washing clothes, ironing and packing all evening; I haven’t spent enough time with Lauren; I’ve spent too much time looking at beer lists and Beer Week events; I don’t know what’s for dinner tomorrow; I can barely tell my arse from my elbow; I’m almost certain I’ve forgotten something very important; I have no cereal for breakfast tomorrow; I’m worried about taking pencils on the plane in case they are judged as weapons and I have to throw them away; I have discovered that I only own four pairs of white socks; I have a headache; I can’t decide which books to take away with me; I don’t know what the MUNI is but I expect to spend a lot of time on it in the next week; I’m going to miss Lauren a lot; I’m going to miss sitting at my laptop writing a lot; I don’t know what to have for breakfast tomorrow instead of cereal; what if the bottles in my luggage smash; how many notepads do I need; should I shave; have I got enough clean pants; what time do I need to leave for the airport on Thursday; how many pairs of shoes do I pack; what can you do on a two-hour lay-over in Frankfurt; what if my hotel is in a dodgy area; what if I get drunk and lost; what if I forget to tip a barman; what if I meet a bunch of internet beer-nutters who just want me for my Penguins; what if I don't sleep on the plane; what if someone steals my money; where is...; what’s the best way...; what if... Oh dear... I’ve just realised I’m a bad and nervous traveller.
Thankfully, I’ve just finished a Flying Dog Raging Bitch which has got me in the mood for awesome beer. It’s incredibly fruity, like dunking your nose in apricot jam or a bowl of fresh peaches; it’s juicy like pineapple; esters swirl around beneath bitter hops; something phenolic lingers. I thought it’d be better than it is (it had hype), to be honest, but it’s still good. The spoiling factor is an elastic-band twang. It makes me want more beer.
FYI: This will probably be my last post before San Francisco (did I mention I'm going?) but I will be blogging daily via email on my blackberry, so expect it to be an extended version of twitter complete with blurry photographs, terrible grammar and woeful, drunk spelling. Still, at least it’ll be a fair reflection of a beery travelogue.