April 1, 2014 by 250 Beers
A little known fact about my whereabouts during Monday of Brewsvegas…I was sat in the northern suburb of Geebung getting my third tattoo done.
I’d written in my Brewsvegas timetable that I was having a BFD (Brewsvegas-Free Day) on March 24th. Well, that was only partly true because despite staying away from beer I wasn’t actually that far from hops by the end of the afternoon. That’s right, by 4.30pm I was sporting a brand-spanking new tattoo of a hop cone on my left shoulder.
I was never a big fan of tattoos whilst growing up. In fact, I really (REALLY) hate needles to this day. However, when I emigrated from my beloved England six years ago, I soon felt the need to permanently ink the name of my first child – that remained behind in the UK – onto my arm. I did it as a constant reminder of his existence. Not that I’d ever forget him of course as we use Face Time a lot. The thing is, once the second mini-250 Beers came along I had to get his name tattooed as well. I couldn’t have one son growing up thinking that I had a favourite.
There’s also a running joke that my second child’s name, Jake, deliberately contains one letter less than my first-born, Lewis. Wise-crackers think it saved time and therefore pain when having ‘Jake’ tattooed. The same people pissed themselves laughing when, Tom, my third child came along. Funny bastards.
Young Tom has recently turned two. Through that same fear of being accused of favouritism in years to come I’ve been meaning to get his name tattooed too but…..I’ve had the hop cone done instead.
This has caused a bit of a stir in my household. It’s quite bad of me and I know that it deems me a poor father but I love hops so much…..and it was Brewsvegas. That makes it ok, right?