Bitter brew

March 28, 2016 at 10:53 am | Posted in Poem | 6 Comments
Tags: , , , , , , , ,

We’re all out.

Glug, glug, glug, go the dregs

of my dad’s last

home brew.

Not down my throat,

but in the sink.

Testament to

30 years

of continuous


It began as a fine recipe.

With fresh ingredients from a ‘way-out’ 70s

health-food shop

that smelt like nothing else (before or since).

But as people caught on,

prices went up.

So dad started shopping around.

First the hops.

Then the malt.

The sugar.


Bulk buying.

Damaged goods.

All ingredients meticulously re-sourced to shave costs.

The result?

A total price of just six cents a bottle.

Dad’s beer used to be so good, I’d take it to parties.

Fellow teens would gather to marvel at my cooler bag and try a sip.

But as time passed, the beer got leaner and meaner.

Bereft of zest and flavour.

Until I couldn’t drink it any more.

Yet my parents’ thrift paid their home off in just

nine years.

My shop beer costs $6.95 a bottle.

And after 17 years,

my home loan is bigger

than when I began.

Not so smart after all.

Pic by Kristopher Volkman.


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  1. Love this post.

    • I’m very glad to hear it. Thanks so much for saying so! Kind regards, P.

  2. Remarkable writing and recollections, as ever. A pleasure to read, and follow.

    • Hi, Ad. That sounds encouragingly like something one might find on the back of a good book. I shall take it as an omen. Certainly less messy than oxen entrails. Kind regards, P.

  3. So very true Feisty! How we seem to end up in more debt that than our parents? But life is definitely too short to drink shit beer!

    • You are one of the wisest women I know, Gemma. No-one cuts to the heart of a matter like you do. This blog is richer for your patronage. Thank you. Love, F.

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