We get back to Ebermannstadt at a reasonable time. Reasonable enough for it to be reasonable to sample more of the town's delights. We did Schwanenbräu yesterday. Where today?
"What about our hotel's beer garden?"
"Where's that, dad?"
"Not far." That gets a look. Andrew is very cynical for one so young. It really isn't far. "It really isn't far."
On the very short walk, we pass Brauerei Sonne. It looks reassuringly operational. The brewery tap, Gasthaus Sonne, is resolutely shut because of "Betriebswechsel". I hope it does reopen. It looks rather sad there on the corner of the square, dessicated plants behind its windows.
Gasthof Zur Post's beer garden is low key. Very low key. There appear
to be no staff when we arrive. Turns out they've cleverly disguised
themselves as customers by sitting chatting with other guests.
are two basic types of beer garden in Fanconia. There's the Bierkeller,
where row upon row up tables and benches are arranged under a forest of
towering trees. Then there are ones like, er, someone's back garden.
Where the trees are of the fruit kind and more modest in size. This is
the latter type.
A group of children play football in the garden.
More guests arrive leaving their bikes leant up against a fence. Andrew
is shocked. No-one locks their bikes. He's never seen such behaviour
"Fancy a new mountain bike, Andrew?"
We order food
and watch swallows dart between the gables, banking and diving like
dogfighting fighters. Sadly, Zur Post sells Mönchshof beers. I get a
Kellerbier. It looks like this:
and tastes like beer. Things rather more important than beer are occupying me.
. . . there's metal in my food . . " Andrew fishes a small piece of
metal from his mouth. Part of his braces. Whoops. Here carefully eats
around the crust of his sandwich, which he clearly holds to blame.
We linger long but consume little. Chatting and letting the evening flow
slowly by. When the swallows move on at dusk, it's time for us to
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