|Bottled it: deliriously disappointing|
Now I was never really all that much of a Japan fan back in the day. And that might have a lot to do with the fact all the girls at my school would barely even look at you if you didn't look like a miniature version of David Sylvian. But thinking back, he had a pretty deft way with words did our David; a way that doesn't half make you sit up and take stock.
And so it is, only three days in to this year's calendar and I'm confronting loud-blowing ghosts that seemingly dog me at every turn. There's probably very little truth in the notion life follows any particular pattern, but some days it can feel like you're a mere needle following a pre-determined groove pressed by a particularly vindictive producer and that the song's a heart-breakingly sad one.
I'm struggling to think back to a time when this wasn't the case while I've been writing this calendar, so maybe there's some solace to be found in the fact that there's at least something you can rely on. Tempting though it is, I'm not going to delve into the reasons why yet more darkness has decided it would like to pay me a visit.
Instead, I'll just keep ploughing along in my allotted groove, not jumping or skipping across the platter but gathering the dust and the lint that will eventually make the record unbearably crackly.
As for the beer, well, it's not one I've been looking forward to in all honesty. I can't remember why I bought it, save for the fairly attractive bottle and the prog rock-sounding name. I've fallen out with a fair few Belgian beers in recent years as I often find them too cloying, sweet and overly robust, so really I've only myself to blame.
But today, maybe it's just the kind of blanket I need to fend off the cold and swill away the dust of something done before it had even had the chance to begin. Or perhaps it'll convince someone to come along and flip the record.
Beer: Delerium Nocturnum
Strength: A hopefully diverting 8.5%
Colour: Deep horse chestnut and warming red sunsets.
Smell: A combination of Black Forest Gateau, Irn Bru and UHU glue.
Tasting notes: Just as I expected, really. Overly sweet like some saccharine platitude, slightly too gassy and disappointingly wet in the finish. The bottle promised so much more than I've ended up with here, but given I didn't hold out too much hope at the outset, maybe that's no bad thing. I'm trying to think of a witty metaphor to lighten the mood here a bit, but it's no good. The malt isn't too overbearing, though, and overall it isn't unpleasant. But it's not one to lift the spirits and tastes far too much like that last chocolate in the box that nobody really wants.
Gut reaction: Heavy and gassy means I'll doubtless regret drinking it in the afternoon.
Session factor: Struggling to finish this glass, so another is just out of the question.
Arbitrary score: 33 and a third.
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