Today is the ceremonial day for defiling my person with alcohol. I have to rise late for the ritual cleansing and dressing. Which has to finish just as the sun crosses the yardarm. (Do you get the feeling I've spent too much time on my own?)
The choice this year for the defiling, you will be unsurprised to discover, is the divine Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, out of Chico ,CA, although I do decide to drink it out of a Sam Adams glass. SNPA was really a "no brainer", because, at this crucial moment when my taste buds are fully rested and pointing like a doberman, SNPA allows two distinct tastings. It is bottle-conditioned, so I can pour half of it carefully and drink it bright, a l'anglais, then swirl the rest around and drink it, American-style, cloudy. They both have their merits, American being, as you would expect, a much stronger, drier taste. But I prefer the delicacy of the English style.
The only problem is that American real beer ("micro brews" they like to call it here) is fiercely strong, so, in no time at all, my taste buds are suitably anesthetised and tucked away for another year.
For the second-to-last part of the ritual, the traditional Cadbury's Creme Eggs are readily available. And you don't need to be told what the last part is.
Later that night a group of grown-up ladies was assembled to listen adoringly to my stories.