I've spent two days moving house. Moving sucks balls. I've packed boxes badly; I've lifted badly packed boxes; carried furniture in ways which can only be bad for me; lugged a sofa down three flights of stairs; loaded and unloaded the car far too many times; driven far too many miles; spent hours dismantling and chopping and dumping crap furniture; I've even been to Ikea. Now I don't know where anything is and I can't move without falling over a box, so it's time for beer. The one thing I had foresight to do was put some bottles in the fridge; technically, that's the only thing that's been put away so far.
I also need food but there is none in the house except cereal. Breakfast was Subway, lunch was KFC and because dinner won't follow the first two it's cereal in a Tupperware container (because I can't find any bowls). Founder's KBS is in the fridge. About to eat muesli, the pairing is obvious.
The match is irrelevant. It's also not great. It's probably good that it doesn't work or every morning I'd be wanting to open a beer with breakfast. The important thing is both food and beer do their job: one fills me up, one lifts me up.
The beer is special. Imperial stout with chocolate and coffee and aged in bourbon barrels. Blacker and thicker than any beer I can remember. Bourbon hits first then mellows and the whole thing relaxes and opens up - hot then round then elegant. The chocolate and coffee add fullness and depth plus that dark bitterness which is so good with the coconut and vanilla from the oak. The barrel gives a lot, almost too much, but only almost; you know this beer has been around bourbon and that's a good thing. By the end of the glass I'm left wanting more.
It's the diversion I need. It's the lying on the floor, ignoring the boxes, ignoring the mess, ignoring the fact that tomorrow there's so much to do, just lying there with a beer and a note book and feeling the stress and aches and demands of the day going away.