057
A Half of Lager

Sitting here in the bright sunshine drinking a cool glass of lager-beer brings to mind my lovely old friend Olle Goude, (now gone to that great cocktail bar in the sky) who I've written about before, He was all that one expects in a bourgeois society.  Born into a respectable family in Stockholm. His father was  a minister in Sweden's wartime government. His own elder brother a member of the Riksdag, [parliment.]
An upright citizen (most of the time) and a loving parent, a fine schoolteacher, an excellent pianist, and quite a well-known painter in his own country.

We were driving along in my car (circa 1967) on our way from Kungsör to Eskilstuna in Sweden.  Suddenly there was a traffic build-up.Olle had earlier consumed a half pint of lager.

One and a half-hours later as the queue gradually shortened we crept up to a temporary kiosk by the roadside.  The police breathalysed us both.  I was clear, but Olle had drunk a half of lager 3 hours before.  Although the amount of residual alcohol remaining in Olle's body was well below the minimum level to obtain a conviction, we had to abandon my car and proceed to Eskilstuna in a police vehicle accompanied by two policemen.  A further, more extensive test of Olle's blood/urine etc., proved negative and we were allowed to go.  Three days later Olle received a bill for God knows how many kronor to cover the cost of the original blow-bag, the cost of transportation by car to Eskilstuna Hospital, the time of the two policemen, the cost of the Hospital laboratory tests etc., and the cost of the return journey to pick up my car.