This time of the year is laden with key events.
The last grass cut, the clocks going back, Halloween, fireworks night, cut price Quality Street at Morrisons, I'm A Celebrity, the Christmas tree going up (too early yet) and the big fridge packing in.
OK, so maybe it's just our big fridge that packs in, but bear with me.
Our big fridge is in the garage, you see, and when it gets cold out there - which has been since Saturday - it goes into hibernation. Happens every year. And for a period of months we have to wing it with a smaller fridge in the kitchen and an ice box. This is an inconvenience, certainly, but it also represents an opportunity. For me.
Because our big fridge then becomes my beer fridge. This makes me very pleased indeed.
As any man fortunate enough to experience this will confirm, having your very own beer fridge is just a little bit special. Yes, in my case, the fridge obviously isn't on, making it more of a beer cold store. But still. I get to spoil myself by sourcing a "range" of beverages which I can gaze at adoringly prior to sampling.
I've now got Corona in there, Carlsberg, lots of lovely Guinness and - an an experiment - some Carling Zest. (Think lager and lime, my original first love. I used to arrive at parties with six cans of Tennants and a bottle of lime. I would then ask a friend to drink the first half-inch of my can, which I would replace with some lime. An excellent system I felt, although sometimes people would hide my lime just for a laugh. Ha bloody ha). This year I've even generously permitted Vanessa to stash three very small bottles of tonic and a bottle of white vino (which I'll certainly demand that she shares. Call it rent).
Living the dream, dear friends, living the dream.
