The Session #59: For The Love Of Cider Brandy

Let me tell you the problem about beer.

It can never really be the Last Drink. Can it?

As the sun falls into the sea. As the DJ whips tired souls into a last dance. As the fire's embers spat their last. As the coach is about to leave. As the speeches finish. As the deed has to be done. As a lounging middle finger scratches upwards towards a wobbling ceiling, the last defiance...

It's never beer, is it? Long drinks were invented to be caroused around, shared and split and eventually cradled before cajoled into another round.

Short drinks define themselves. Another bluff eraser bump in your ledger of life.

It doesn't matter if the evening doesn't begin with beer. It has to end shortly.

Iced apfelkorn from the depths of the freezer.

A clumsy martini.

Random single malt from the miniature that you forgot you bought eight years ago.

Or Somerset Cider Brandy. For me: smells like teen spirit, burns like heaven and then whispers softly in my ear..

"Thank you for enjoying me. Now please fuck off kindly and quietly to bed".