I often take Lexie into the centre at the weekend. He likes pottering about town. Especially in toy shops. When he's finished, we usually drop by a pub so dad can have his fun, too.
Sunday we had a special reason for being in town. Feeding ourselves in the chip shop. Remember, we were kitchen-less at the weekend. When we'd finished our pie and chips, Lexie said "If I can have a treat, then you can have a beer." "Very generous of you there, son." I thought. But it didn't seem too bad a deal.
I knew what Lexie would want as a treat. A chocolate doughnut. That's what he always wants. The first part of the bargain was easily fulfilled. At a dodgy pizza window on Nieuwedijk.But where to have a beer? Being Sunday, Wildeman was closed. We were too early for Arend's Nest. I suppose we could have tried Scum. But that often has loose dogs. And they've whacked the prices up. It was too early for Belgique, too. I didn't feel like trailing all the way to Ooievaar. And I'm bored of Beiaard.
In the the end I just walked Lexie straight to the tram stop. He seemed confused. "Aren't we going to the pub?" "No." "Really?" "Yes, really?" That's when he said "Who are you and what have you done with my dad?" The only explanation he could think of for my bizarre, atypical behaviour was that the real me had been kidnapped by aliens and a fake me substituted.
The Few, not the Many - At the recent Manchester Beer and Cider Festival, I had the enviable (no I don't mean unenviable - it was great) task of chairing our annual Great Manches...
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