Life is especially busy at the moment with birthday's and of course...ahem...writing. There are even a few friends that want to meet up. Given the amount of times I bemoan fate (it doesn't answer back) about how plain a life I lead; how lonely; how no-one remembers me; no-one's left a review of my book/s (there's seven); no-one calls...and then the phone goes...
So, back to juggling life and writing. In my world they do appear to be two separate things. I know I can multi-task but the writer in me likes to make everything quite a challenge. Hence I become my own worst enemy.
It was the birthday of someone very dear to me, (not cost-wise), and they happen to like beer. I don't.
One of my life-long searches is to find the alcohol that I will actually enjoy the taste of. I'm fortunate enough to have friends that let me taste their drinks. The suspicious writer in me always checks that they've had a sip out of the glass first before I sample. The 0 - 10 scale of how my taste buds have reacted is told through the resultant grimace, shudder or occasionally worse. Hopefully their kindness is in fact exactly that, because otherwise they could only be pampering me in order to laugh at my face pulling. No...they wouldn't...would they? Hmm...
Anyway, this particular friend is often trying to persuade me to buy beer and I adamantly declared that I never would. Occasionally I make such declarations and come to regret them. This was one of them. Buying the beer, even making a gift of it would have been a dawdle, cheaper and less time consuming. I came up with the idea of beer as the birthday theme.