A Matter of Perspective

It’s apparently summer here in Ireland. At least that’s what the calendar tells me. Like most, I’d hoped for a nice sunny summer with evenings spent having a cool beer out in the garden, surrounded by friends. But it’s too wet outside and I don’t have any friends. And the beer is tepid (the fridge is on the blink). It might clear up in August. That’s something to look forward to, I guess.

It’s unfortunate the weather can’t be trusted. We’d hoped for our anniversary at the Flavours of Fingal festival would be as sunny as last year (which had absolutely stunning weather). Instead we got an overcast Saturday and a torrential Sunday. That didn’t stop people turning up though (well, maybe a little).

But it was still great craic and we got meet a hell of a lot of people (and got to watch Ireland get knocked out of the Euros), I just could have done with a bit of sun. I’m stuck in doors all day and get most of my vitamin D from watching ads for Centrum. But you can’t sweat the little things. That’s one of the little things we’ve learned in our first year in business.

Things inevitably go wrong, so you learn to shrug it off and bottle up the rage to be released on an unsuspecting passer-by in years to come. Our Anniversary beer bottles are a good example.

This single-hop was to be a one-off, all keg affair. We had brewed it over in Carraroe with Kev O’Hara and the Independent Brewing Company (which, as an aside, is possibly one of the most beautiful spots on the planet. Well, when it’s sunny. When it’s cold and wet it’s miserable). Kev was to keg the beer when it was done, to save us having to head down and do it ourselves (we’re lazy. So sue us!).

Unfortunately, Kev mistook the tank containing our beer for a tank containing his beer and proceeded to bottle and keg it, instead of just kegging it. And as happens whenever any of us makes a huge mistake, he only noticed after he’d finished labelling all the bottles.

So any of you who’ve bought a bottle of our anniversary ale may have noticed that there’s an Independent Brewing Company label underneath our own. We could have gotten Kev to manually peel off every incorrect label he put on the bottles while we beat him with sticks, but we’re just not that heartless. I mean, we still beat him. We simply took the easy way out and slapped our labels on top of the wrong ones.

There was a time where we would have run around in blind panic, clueless as to what to do. Now, we shrug it off. Also, we swear a lot, but that’s reasonably normal. And nothing says craft beer like shoddy workmanship. It’s what the people want. Or at least it’s what people have come to expect from us. And anyway, it’s what’s inside that counts (that applies to both beer and people. And cake).

You see, there’s always going to be something to worry about. So if that’s a constant, then there’s not a lot you can do about it. Therefore, there’s no reasons to worry about it. That’s science! Why should we worry about our labels when Britain might exit the EU and raise our costs? Why worry about the Brexit when Trump may become president of the US and causes a severe outbreak of stupid? Why worry about Trump when a meteorite the size of China might hit the Earth and wipe us all out? Why worry about being wiped out when they’ve cancelled Firefly?

It’s all about perspective. And partly denying reality. But mostly perspective. The key is to keep smiling as you slowly die inside. Wait, no. That doesn’t sound right. The key is to dance and love and sing. No, that’s nonsense. Hmm… I’m not sure what the key is. Actually, I’m not even sure what the key is for. I’ve written myself into a corner and now can’t remember the point I was trying to make.

Ah to hell with it, I’m having a Firefly marathon. That should keep reality at bay.