As many of you know my life changed quite drastically six months a go with the birth of my daughter, Betty, and as a family; dealing with some other traumatic events along this short journey. It really alters your dynamic but not just at home; you start to see everything so differently than before. One of these things was work.
I loved my job. I worked hard. All I wanted to do was succeed but as time went on the pace slowed. Whilst I was comfortable, I wasn’t succeeding and all I wanted to do was the best for my family and when an organisation works under a licence the risk is huge. If you have no licence you can’t work and I didn’t want to be in that position.
I fucking hated looking for a new job. The anxiety building when sneaking around for interviews and the feeling of unknown risks. I got pretty miserable. I won’t hark on that I was depressed; depression is an illness that ruins people’s lives and it never got that far. I was unhappy and tired from my mind constantly working out what’s the best thing for me and being completely ostracised by some at work. Over the last six months I took a small step back from Twitter and the blog. I still went to the pub and beer events but I didn’t feel I had the time to maintain my online presence. When I got in from work Betty would put a smile on my face. We’d have tea, bath and bed and whilst Laura prepared our evening meal I had some time to catch up on my twitter feed.
I’d open up Twitter as a way to wind down and see what’s new, yet in my heightened state of tension I couldn’t deal with the droves on nonsensical bickering, attention seeking and utter shite. If it’s not the traditional beer drinker moaning about the fact they can’t see through their pint of bitter; it’s a an array of Twitter polls asking how much is too much for a pint (honestly, there were three in one week) and then it continued with the £13.40 pint saga. Seriously, when any organisation feels the need to release a statement to why they, as a business, make a profit, I feel the need to question people’s sanity.
If it wasn’t about price, it was all “I remember when IPAs were bitter”, and that came from the craft beer lot and the lot who can’t order a beer unless the pump clip gives them an erection. At least they agreed on something eh? If it wasn’t all so serious I’d be in floods of tears.
Drinking beer is supposed to be enjoyable and that’s worth remembering. On Tuesday I went to The Veil’s TTO at the Pilcrow and I had such a great time. I was paying £6 a third (£18 a pint) for some pretty rare beers but instead of sitting around breaking down cost, dissecting every hop addition or measuring it’s opaqueness; I just had a good night with friends old and new. I didn’t sit taking notes and photos or plan my next exclusive; I just relaxed. This is what having a beer is all about surely?
So, when I get chance and I feel like it, I will still write about beer, photograph beer, and discuss beer online, but I’ll keep making sure that at the heart of it, I’m simply enjoying a good beer for the love of beer.
If you’ve managed to get this far, nip over to Myles’ post driven by similar emotions