In a London pub, I am having difficulties deciding what to drink I am honing in one a light hoppy ale. 'This is what it looks like', says the man who is sitting on a bar stool next to me. He is large with short white hair and speckled stubble. His posture is slouched.
'Can he sniff it?', asks my friend who has been out of the country for several months. He is taken aback. I tell him that I probably don't need to and order it anyway. Whilst waiting for it to be poured, I ask my question. He gives me an answer. 'Sorry', he says. 'I'm still a bit in shock'. I ask why. 'It's been a long time since a young lady asked if she could sniff it', he replies. I don't like to put him right.
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