The boys are looking out the front window, taut with interest. "Hey, there's the beer man!!" Darcy yodels. "Yeah, wow!" The other boys are thrilled. "Hey, beer man! Beer man!" Beer man? I amble on over to the window, very casually. If there's a beer man out there, I wouldn't want to be the one to scare him off. I peer over their shoulders. Nothing but the bleak grey drizzle we've had for the better part of two weeks. Rather demoralizing after a while. A fortifying pint has a distinct appeal right now. George nudges Darcy. "Look! The beer man brings boxes of beer." Boxes? The eerie thing is, they're all staring at the same point in space on the sidewalk just in front of my porch. I can almost hear the clink of bottles as the boxes thud down. And if there is an invisible beer man in my neighbourhood, how do these underage milk-drinkers rate? Where's my beer man??