Day 77: get thee to a brewery.

No, I'm not on the brink of insanity (or dating a psycho Danish prince), but I am planning to hold my work leaving do at "the best beer bar in the land" (according to one Aussie beer writer - yes such a thing exists). Known as The Local taphouse, it specialises in beer and offers a dizzying array on tap (no duh). It also serves great food and is a hop, skip and a jump from my front door (no prizes for guessing the true motivation behind the choice). Seriously though, if I hadn't chosen to take the road of teetotal absolutism, this little watering hole could have been my darling drunken home away from home. As it happens, I almost never darken the doors. But in the name of neighbourly patronage, and in recognition of the maniac my work pals once knew, to the taphouse we shall go. After all, just because I have chosen recently to live like a nun, doesn't mean my fellow revellers can't sink a pint or seven to send me on my way.