This past Saturday was the most “normal” day I've had in over three months. I cycled outside of my local area for the first time since the U.K. went into lockdown, and I spent the afternoon in the park with my friend Sam.
Much like a couple of teenagers discussing rumors of a keg at a house party, we heard the pub across the road from the park was selling draft pints for takeaway. After our initial absorption of sunshine and chat we headed over to see for ourselves. A queue snaked all the way around the corner of the building: the rumors were true.
The feeling of stepping foot inside a pub, standing at the bar and then asking for “a pint of the Pale, please” felt like being 18 years old and ordering my first legal pint again. It felt so good I asked for the Lager, too.
"What are you shooting today?" asked my server, as I took my camera out to take a photo of Sam and his pint.
I reflected for a moment before sheepishly replying, "Nothing. Just … this."
Words + Photoby Sean McEmerson