DT #350, 16 December 2014 (New World IPA)   3 comments

New World IPA Red Lion Islip

Neither the fragrance
Nor the face of L’Oreal,
Because I’m worth it.

Name: New World IPA
Type: IPA
Venue: Red Lion, Islip

Review/notes: I ran to our lab Christmas Party from Oxford via Water Eaton because I haven’t done the Confessor’s Walk in months and if the trail wasn’t maintained it would be impossible to find an alternate path in the dark.  I knew I would hit some cow shit infused mud just before the boss’ house but there was a river to ford there as well so I should have been rinsed of odours and mud enough to change into some dry clothing I carried in my backpack.  What could go wrong?

She had a film crew there from L’Oreal doing a promotional video because she’s won an award from their foundation promoting women in mathematics, engineering, and the sciences…they’ve been around for a week and should finish in a few days.  The River Cherwell was deeper than I expected and soaked to my waist in its chilly waters and with shirts soaked from my sweat I couldn’t very well come into the house to change so I proceeded to get naked out by the driveway and was soon as presentable as I get.  But, what to do with the wet clothes?

I peeked in the front door and asked the nearest people I could find for a plastic bag as I knew the supplies had been brought up in several bin liners.  After three different people just giggled at this request, I caught the boss’ attention and she insisted I come in but I thought, as host, surely she would have something.  “Do you think anyone here would have a plastic bag or bin liner I could use?” I asked and explained as much as I could in the general din that I had a bunch of wet clothing outside.  “I wouldn’t think so,” she dismissed and went on to another conversation.

Fine.  Just grand.  So, I rearranged the backpack in a vain attempt to try to keep a bunch of papers dry and started to pack the wet running shoes, sweats, socks, shirts, sweatshirt, and hat into the bag which, as I expected, started to flow with fetid water.  Unwilling to abandon the pack outside and unwilling to bring this foul, manure-and-Cherwell scented teabag inside I jogged up to the Red Lion to see if I could get a bin liner from them, stepping into a shin-deep mud puddle along the way.

Fuck it.  I hate Christmas Parties anyway, and there was a train connection in less than an hour.  Beer fixes everything.

2014-12-16 run to Islip

 

[DT =Daily Tipple, explained in DT #000 here]

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