I think someone’s following me…

You know that nerve-tingly feeling you get when you sense you’re being watched? You look around and don’t see anyone, but it doesn’t stop that naggy little feeling, does it?

Over the past couple of weeks, I’ve felt it several times. Sometimes I would be quaffing a beer when I would get that strange little feeling. I would look around, Elaine would ask me what was wrong, I would shrug and go back to my beer. Or I would  be washing some of my beer glasses, get that feeling, look around, Elaine would ask me what I was looking for, and I would shrug and go back to washing my glasses.

Wait a minute… It suddenly struck me… Elaine was the one who was watching me! Yes, suddenly everything fell into place. If I happened to glance over at her, she would be furtively looking at me. Then she would go back to typing away on her iPad — almost as if she was taking notes on me.

And there were all those questions too. If I was putting away a beer glass she would casually — too casually — ask, “So, how many beer glasses do you own?”

Or if I was gluing a beer label into my collection, she would just happen to walk by and ask how many labels I now had.

Hmmm. I started watching her watching me. She was clearly up to no good.

Even if you don’t think you know Elaine, you do know her, sort of, if you’re a regular reader of this blog. When I visit a brewery, she’s often  the one who patiently takes notes while I drink beer and ask questions. She also re-reads each of my blogs and makes some very perceptive suggestions. She’s been a kind of editor-in-chief and co-blogger.

Or she used to be.

Last week, she announced that she was starting up her own blog: Married to Beer: Seeing the humour in a spouse who loves suds!


With a horrible sinking feeling, I started reading it, hoping against hope that her subject was someone else’s husband. But no, there I am, captured in prose — the ever-expanding number of beer glasses, the bottle cap collection, the incessant hunt for new beers…

Now I have the feeling of being watched… by everyone.

I think I’ll just slip down into the basement and surreptitiously have a beer.



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