I can’t explain why, but I have always regarded buses with a good deal of suspicion.  No, I can explain it: it is because I have never trusted them to either turn up on time, or go to the place I want to go to.  When I was a kid, my family owned a car, and so it was only very infrequently that I travelled by bus, but my memories––few as they are––are ones of endlessly standing at cold and lonely bus-stops for the promise of a bus, which would never arrive.  And then, when a bus finally did turn up, its appearance only brought with it fresh anxiety.  For now, ensconced on the bus, I would have the worry of where to get off.  There would be no signs; no map; no help.  Bus travel was simply a transference of fears: feelings of isolation to feelings of being a prisoner.  In my mind, buses operate to no recognisable schedule, route or method.  As a carless adult, I still avoid the bus wherever possible, preferring instead to either walk or take the train.

All of which is a rather long introduction to why you find me drinking a pint of Southwark Brewing’s Routemaster Red.  The beer has the colour of a healthy, ruby blush.  I had been going to compare its hues to those of an embarrassed Chelsea Pensioner but, in fortunate synchronicity, it is at this moment that a big, double-decker Routemaster passes by to provide alternative literary inspiration.

The beer is 3.8%ABV and, like most ‘reds’ of my acquaintance, has a powerful, distinctively fruity character.

However, unlike most buses of my experience, this is a beer that knows where it is going and delivers in a timely fashion.  A couple more pints, though, and I’ll be back with my old bus dilemma: not knowing when to get off.

© Beery Sue

Beery Sue is happy to rely on shanks’ pony.