Putting Corona anxiety on lockdown.

The world has gone a bit bat shit, hasn’t it?

When I launched this blog a few months ago the objective was to focus on rousing travel, food and events.

Then, someone in a far-away land decided to devour an iffy soup, prompting the Lord to unleash upon us a respiratory plague, deeming the start of the new decade, mine, and everyone else’s plans, an entire write-off.

I spent the best part of January and February organising several trips across Europe for the summer and waiting in queues to excitedly purchase tickets for up-and-coming events… Do you know what queue I have found myself in this week?

The one for the bathroom.

Because every Tom, Dick and Harry is at home.

On top of that, I am currently out of a job – it would appear an Area Marketing role working across 12 pubs isn’t particularly effective when the pubs are closed, so my employment has been put on hold ‘indefinitely’ bringing me to the next queue I have found myself in this week – the online one trying to claim Universal Credit.

I am a bit of a panicker, to put it lightly, so the paranoia linked to Covid-19 has become so overwhelming, that every time I find myself in a breathless heap after running up the stairs, I have to remind myself it’s because my body is made up of 90% Rioja and sausage rolls, and not because I’ve contracted the virus.

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International Women’s Brew Day.

Contrary to popular belief, procrastinating on social media does have its benefits.

Had my attention not been engulfed by monotonously refreshing my Facebook page, in some feeble attempt to appear productive, then I would not have seen the post from Brewhouse and Kitchen in Southsea, advertising limited spaces for their International Women’s Day brewing experience.

Admittedly, I only started drinking beer a couple of years ago; I was living in the Netherlands when an alcohol-fuelled karaoke event the night before Koningsdag witnessed me indulging in the world of Belgian beer; La Chouffe to be precise, which I did not realise until my third pint sits at a solid 8% ABV; needless to say, I don’t have much recollection of the tram ride home.

Fast-forward to my life back in the UK – I discovered there was such huge joy the first time I was served a bottle of La Chouffe in a seaside town Micropub and was, once again, able to experience the taste that will always arouse flashbacks of questionable ABBA renditions.

That is what beer is about; the stories it leaves you with.

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In Reviews

Review: Bonita’s, Southsea.

If you have been daring enough to dive into the slinkier areas of Amsterdam, you will recognise the raunchy exterior of Bonita’s in Southsea as something that promises pleasure, laced with a twinge of guilt; alas, this neon-lit, enigmatic building lures drooling customers inside by offering an entirely different type of taco.

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