Picture this...It's a Saturday morning. You're sitting at home. Nothing on the TV. You're bored. A text message arrives noisily on your phone. You read it: 'Pints?'is all it says, you reply 'where, when?' and back you receive 'The local,NOW'..
An excitement starts to build in your stomach, butterflies start to flutter their wings. You jump up, quickly shower, get dressed and out the door.You're walking to the pub. It's cold but you don't mind. It's the thought of the pint that's getting you going. You're walking quickly, purposely. You stop at an ATM, you fumble in your wallet for your card. You try and insert it the wrong way, finally with cold numb fingers you shove it in and greedily finger your PIN. There's a shot of panic after you choose your required sum 'Do I have enough in there' you think.... before you finish your thought, the familiar and relieving rumble of clean, crisp money emulates from the machine. It jumps out of the slot and you cram it into your battered wallet.
You're on your way again. Down the street you go, ever faster, the excitement is starting to make its way to your mouth and a small but noticeable grin appears on your cold, rosy face. The pub looms in the distance. Almost there, you pick up the speed.Not quite jogging, but not quite walking either. You dread meeting someone you know on the street as you don't want to stop for idle chit-chat.
You arrive.You open the door. The warmth and atmosphere of the bar envelopes you. You breath a sigh of relieve. You're home. You look around the bar, there's the usual faces, happy and engrossed in their own conversations.
You're the first of your mates to arrive. The barman nods to you. 'A pint' you say.'I'll drop it over' his reply. You take a seat. Jacket off. He selects a dry, clean glass and pauses before he places it under the tap. You hold your breath, just for a moment. But you do. He pours. The brown liquid flows into the glass, he caresses the glass gently before placing it down to settle. You can see the brown swirls settling into black.
You take out some coins and jingle them nervously in your hand. It's almost ready.He tops it up and passes it to the lounge girl to take to your table. She stops to talk to another punter on the way to your seat. She's laughing with him. You're edgy, almost mentally willing her on her way to you. She arrives. The pint is placed in front of you. You thrust the coins into her hand, not even acknowledging her thanks for allowing her to pocket the small change.
It's now just you and the pint. Nothing else. Time stands still until you wait for the perfect moment to raise the glass.You marvel at it's colour and weight and at the head sitting proudly on top.You put it to your lips. They are dry and eager... and swallow. The black magic rolls down your throat, you can feel all your senses become alive,your face flushes and your heart sings. The laughter from the two men in the corner seems like some strange far away song. Your senses soar. You replace the pint to its place on the table. Condensation runs down the glass and you trace your finger along a cool drop.
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