Perversely – or not, really – it seems all one has to do to encourage traffic to one’s blog is stop writing it. I’m telling you, viewing figures here have never been so healthy. Certainly not as consistent. Even back when I was convincing myself there might be real mileage in writing as a full-time pursuit. When I would tell myself I was honing my style, confident that time spent in the field, plus a track record of modest success in the industry, might qualify me to comment broadly on contemporary hospitality. And thinking people might give two shits. Even then my readership was never really ripped. Or regular.
So, what? Why cut short the sabbatical? Few reasons, actually. Some more obvious than others. Firstly, it seemed a shame to just down tools. Particularly now search engines, even via terms as tenuous as ‘shaved cock public’ , are sending unsuspecting suckers my way. In line with that, and with the above, it would make sense to give them something to go on. If only to demonstrate I’m not dead. Also, I’ve made friends because of this blog. Some in other countries. I rather feel like I owe them this much. But more than anything, the other night, and it was sparked I think by a photograph on Facebook of Seattle in the snow, I got nostalgic for an environment I’ve had a diminished appetite for in recent months. Professionally and socially. And actually. I got crook over Christmas and only now find myself minded, and still only in moderation, to get back amongst it. Pint here, pie there. I’ve never physically seen Seattle in the snow, but I have been. I spent a boozy week there back in 2009. The majority of my time I spent downtown doing in drip coffee and just-caught crab sandwiches, hanging around Pike Place, going to gigs and, yeah, royally pissing it up. But then there was also a weekend spent on Bainbridge Island. Wow. If you’ve any notion of what the Pacific North West in its pomp should look like, or if you’ve read any Stephanie Meyers (which I haven’t), it looks a lot like this. Trees, sky, and God’s own mood lighting. The quiet roads there shine with rain that only seemed to fall when you weren’t looking. I gather I was lucky with the weather.
Doc’s is right on the harbour. I don’t know what I drank. Save for some snack food I didn’t really eat there either. It doesn’t matter. I just know how it felt to be there late on a Sunday afternoon, college football on the ‘tube’, a vista of tethered boats through the window, fading light. Beers. Pretty special. I recall checking myself and registering that in the context of a trip on which I’d felt most at ease when in transit between places, this was probably as relaxed as I’d been when in one. A proper moment. I like thinking about it. So I thought I’d write about it.
Happy New Year.
Pictures courtesy of Jim Thomsen and and BeerAdvocate.com