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  • My wife tuts and casts her disdainful harpy eye over me when I walk in the house with a clinky bag full of beer bottles.

    To keep her moderately appeased I now approach my at home drinking in a machiavellian manner by buying a few small bottles of rocket fuel aka: Belgian beers.

    I only have access to the usual suspects (Duvel, Chimay Rouge and occasionally Blanche, Leffe, Tripel Karmeliet). This stuff is the shit. Drinking a strong, flavoursome beer slowly from a wine glass (thus furthering the deceit) is good for my dipsomania and less damaging to my marriage.

    This is not without it's dangers though. Bedford has a great beer festival (probably the only reason to pay a visit) with a dedicated belgian beer bar. Considering myself slightly elevated above the Tyro, I got stuck in with lager swilling abandon. In short order I was larrup'd and upon getting home, in the doghouse.

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