Friday night and the first sip of beer

I love the French author Philippe Delerm. And I recently found a wonderful English translation of his best-selling collection of short stories 'La Première Gorgée de Bière' entitled 'We Could Almost Sit Outside'. This means I have been able to enjoy the delicious little stories with my non-French speaking friends.

I never understood the pleasure of beer until I started living in the UK.
I used to think it was a wishy washy beverage chosen by red-nosed middle aged men who were in the bars a little too early in the day and a little too often (well, I suppose that's still not entirely false, but it's become kind of an endearing thought for me).

I got into the habit of frequenting the pub next to the office with a couple of (male) colleagues after work in my first year in the UK, and would have a couple of pints of Stella before commuting home.
Maybe I was taking the saying 'When in Rome, do as the Romans do' a little bit too seriously then, but the result is that it opened my eyes to the joys of drinking beer.

In Monsieur Delerm's wonderful (translated) words, 'The first gulp! Its journey is already well advanced by the time it reaches your throat. With a frothy trail of foaming gold around your lips, bitter happiness slowly permeates your palate. [...] The ritual is familiar enough: the right quantity to ensure a perfect prelude; the instant rush of well-being, punctuated by a contented sigh, a smack of the lips, or silence; the giddy sensation of pleasure teetering in the brink of infinity...'

How accurately described! I love this feeling on a Friday night, after a long week at work: as you gulp down that first sip of beer, you feel all the burdens and the worries you have carried during 5 days melt into the golden liquid.

Do I sound like a bloke? Hold on, it gets worse!! I later got introduced to real ales and the world of CAMRA pubs. The surprises in the flavours of different carefully brewed lively ales (caramel, grapefruit, and other unexpected things) makes the experience a real joy - at least until my stomach starts to protest against the overload of yeast!

Once during a work function, as I was caught drinking a pint of lager by the Operations Director, a conservative-minded Englishman, I was told that as a lady, I should be drinking half pints.
What was strange was that by switching to half pints, I still drank the same number of glasses, therefore halving my intake and the cost to my wallet. Genius!!

Nowadays I don't tend to socialise with work colleagues in the pub anymore - partly because I work from home.
But I still drink that Friday night beer fondly, and all the years I have lived in the UK and loved this country rush into my brain.