I had my first beer in 25 months last night. It was rather uneventful, so I swigged / swug a second Stella Artois to achieve the sense of bloating that I associate with lager drinking. The permanently bloated feeling came back, and the urge to eat a kebab almost surfaced. It’s been so long since I drank lager and lived in Blighty that I actually craved a burrito. Ah, progress.
The third Stella came and went, and I talked too loudly and my nose started to drizzle. It’s mainly the smell of Stella that evokes so many memories. The taste out of bottles was never great, compared to a shill pint in a sticky-floored pub. Ah, the “strong continental please” days.