BROWSING the beer aisles in the supermarket yesterday, I was reminded of beer names back in England and experienced a sudden longing for that most understated of beers, that so perfectly named English beer, that almost class divided beer: Young’s ordinary.
I cannot recall if ordinary was the name it acquired among drinkers to distinguish it from its upper class brother, the equally simply named and few per cent higher Special, but I always took great pleasure asking for a pint of ordinary. Please. I am nothing special. I am simple person who enjoys a simple pleasure. No Lightning’s, no Foots or Fingers, no Bombers, Spitfires or Terminators (made that one up), no Waggles, Daggles, Friaries or Perches (made that one up too).
Give me the ordinary.
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