Dirty Dance Floor Daydreams

I like the way that beer can take you to a different place.  Not necessarily in an alcohol-soaked, drunken way, but sometimes in a more reflective, mellow way.

My pint of Maregade Pale––5.6% ABV–– had a good fruity flavour to it and a potency, which belied the clear light-gold innocence of its appearance.  It was the kind of pint that I could enjoy effortlessly, allowing my mind to wander, taking me to where it chose.

An Arctic Monkeys’ song was playing––it often is––I Bet You Look Good on the Dance Floor.  I found myself drinking to the rhythm; a private dancer, serenading my pint glass; unconsciously sipping more furiously as the song sped up––“Don’t know what you’re looking for”; taking slower, longer quaffs as the song slowed down––“From 1984”.  My thoughts in a different place, removed from my current surroundings; unmindful to both the beer and the music.

The song finished, and with it my daydream.  A brief excursion along a particular path of imagination, which I will not revisit again.  And now I find myself sitting quietly, back in my familiar corner, staring at my empty glass.

© Beery Sue


Beery Sue looks good on the dance floor.

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