Insert Morricone Score

He's a pathetic, lonesome figure of a man. A man who, having escaped jury service early, wanders aimlessly, and yet purposefully, through Melbourne city. His Facebook friends have failed him; he is alone. What's with these people and this "employment" they speak of? He will show them. He will spend his afternoon sitting alone, nursing an Australian craft beer or four. And he will vaguely enjoy the hell out of it, dammit!

He will see and learn things as well. He will see some guy who looks like Opie from Sons of Anarchy. He will re-enforce his position beyond a shadow of a doubt that tights are not pants! But mostly he'll be awkwardly sitting alone, drinking his beer.

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Mrs. Parma's is a pub-restaurant tucked away in the Eastern Melbourne CBD on Little Bourke Street, and I credit it with truly lighting the fire under my ass. A couple of visits to James Squire and its Amber Ale had excited a curiosity within me about beer in general after quite the sabbatical, but it was a visit to Mrs. Parma's that really introduced me to the wonders of craft beer and Victorian microbreweries. It was such a small taste and yet such a significant leap. Nowadays, I still find Mrs. Parma's well worth the trip. It's like coming home, and it's nice to feel that way among a group of beers that are distinctly a product of my home. I still live by the method established that day, hardly ever having the same thing twice, always exploring the taps.

So anyway, I popped in. First up was Mornington Peninsula Brown ale. I don't know what else to say other than I've been quite surprised at the MP brews I've had so far – which would be the Pale, Brown and Saison – after avoiding for quite a while, although not on purpose. My initial reaction is that they're doing great stuff for a new brewery. The Brown I'd had before, but had to have another. Just a good, well-balanced, flavoursome brown ale, and exactly what I want from one.

Now second, I decided to give the Mildura Choc Hops Stout a shot. Josie had sung this one's praises after the last microbrew showcase in Federation Square, which I was not able to attend, and after trying the bottle, I was beginning to wonder if she was a little cuckoo-crazy, but it's really something you need to try from the tap. Just an explosion of roasted chocolate malt, and I swear they've put vanilla essence or something in there, 'cause there were vanilla notes – look ma, I'm using the vocab! – that wouldn't quit. The nose is just pure chocolate.

After this, satisfied I had lingered long enough to perhaps draw attention to my pathetic lonesomeness, I decided to bounce my way over to Beer DeLuxe in Federation Square. To my mind, it lacks the necessary atmosphere – there's a very commercial air to it – to be a comfortable place to spend an evening, but this doesn't seem to stop me from enjoying their often fantastic range of always-rotating taps and knowledgeable staff fairly frequently. (Their Murray's tap takeover alone catapults them to a special place in my heart.) To the dude on the bar whom I did not get the name of, you were a delight, sir, even when I seemingly ignored your recommendations. Sorry about that.

First up, I had Murray's Easter Ale. As may have been detected in the previous paragraph, I'm a little bit in love with Murray's at the moment. The Easter was sold to me as being akin to "hot-cross buns," and while it is surely that, and surely as deeply flavoursome as all Murray's are, I must note the presence of fruit, which I now learn are raisins, and a pretty good smattering of spice, although not overpoweringly so – I'm looking at you, Orval – at least for myself. Interesting one to try, most certainly, but I imagine many finding it a little out there and powerful.

As a side-note, had a taste of the Murray's Retro Rocket light IPA just to see if they were talking shit. They were not. Seriously big flavour for a light. They have, however, added very little to no aromatic hops. It's a high-alpha punch to the kisser.

Last up was the True South Dark Ale, which is starting to head into Porter territory with its slightly roasted malt. Nice, well-balanced, hints of caramel, and I'm not smart enough to say anything beyond that, so please forgive me.

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And so then the lonesome man did stand and he observed the many Good Beer Week posters wallpapering the establishment's columns. Then, allowing a half-smile of recognition, he went off to pee before heading to the station.