Yet again that comment. I decided to leave it for as long as I could so that whatever surprise they were clearly organising would remain just that: a surprise.
We said our goodnights, and ambled back to my family, just as the food was arriving. Ish was staring at his glass.
“Dad?”
“Son?”
“This doesn’t really taste like beer”
“Not quite right, son. It’s the stuff back home that doesn’t taste like beer”
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