Is it rude to down your beer?

This weekend has been free to spend as we wished with nothing at all compulsary until Wednesday. How nice! We chose to spend Friday having a full exploration of the shopping centre. This was hampered slightly by my purchase of a pan set which I then had to carry around with me(a bargain at a mere $40 - the same Victoria paid for just one pan which has now been stolen :[ ) . I probably should have bought that last but that would have involved common sense or planification (the very Quebecois tendance of forward planning). It was a nice little nosy around some quaint shops though. After a while I started to feel really ill and resorted to sitting on a bench with my head in my hands whilst Victoria completed her food shopping. I helped her carry her bags inside before raiding my personal pharmacy. Thank goodness I came well prepared. Before long I was feeling tip-top again.
While the evening was still young, when returning to my room I was hailed by a group of guys standing on the corridor. They were planning going for a drink and invited me along. Jumping at the chance to meet people, I said yes and passed the invite onto Victoria. The guys then went up and down the corridor knocking on every door to find people to come. In all there were about 10 or 12 of us including an American girl who was very glad to have other English speakers. That may have been what persuaded her to come in the end. We all got the bus and headed to a place called Siboire, also a local brewery. I tried to follow the conversation and join in where possible. It was less hard work than I had imagined and I actually enjoyed myself. One of the guys, AndreJean, insisted that I should have a beer since we were in a brewery and we had been invited for a beer (I think he failed to specify this in his invite) but in the end I ordered a beer with blueberries, mostly because 2 of the guys had been drinking it and let me taste it beforehand. If I'm going to spend $6 on a beer I want it to be a nice one! Soon after, us girls decided to go home. I quickly downed my drink so we could go and in the process of doing so received some incredulous looks from the boys. It even procured a tabernak (in Quebecois, most words associated with the catholic church have become swear words - this was the first instance I'd heard) Either they didn't think girls could drink beer so fast or I was majorly offending them by not savouring it. I was quite glad we didn't stay out too late.
The next day Victoria and I took the bus to the town centre in order to explore it. We got off the bus and had no clue as to in which direction we should go. We spied a spire and made our way towards it. It turned out to be your average church, but was far more impressive than the standard English church - almost like a cathedral. We turned and headed back the way we had come after resting on a bench and taking out a map. We had also picked up many tourist information leaflets from a bank on the way. Eventually we found the main streets and stopped for lunch. We found the townhall, which had a beautiful garden out front and the actual cathedral. Sadly it was closed and is only open between 7-9am most days. We continued to search out some of the sites of Sherbrooke and found ourselves on a mural trail. Over the past 8 years the town has added 10 murals depictiting local history. We have 3 left to see. Although we located all of these 'tourist attractions' we decided to save them for another day with the exception of the murals, outdoor things and an art gallery. We will have plenty of time to see them all later.
Possibly my favourite thing that we found was this fountain. It was built by one Isabelle McKechnie Mitchell in memory of her husband. Of all the places to find someone of the same name! I feel I may have to research this lady, just for the sake of it. My memory doesn't serve me since I was only 3 at the time but I believe we also met a McKechnie down under. We're so common.
From there we found a market, a zen zone and realised we'd done a complete circle and were back on the Rue King Ouest. For the protests of dislike of the British (or maybe just the English) there are a large number of roads named after British people; Admiral Wellington, Queen Victoria, King George V (a mere side street), King William the something, among others.
Sadly all of this walking around town in the glorious sunshine presented a small problem. My shoulders, chest and back had gradually turned a lovely shade of pink. The solution to this was clearly a bag of frozen peas, since neither of us had any aftersun. Oh dear. Thankfully, it seems to have subsided over night and is looking more like a tan than lobster coloured burns but I made sure I covered up, except my legs. I yet have hope that mes jambes will cease to be the colour of milk. Fingers crossed!
I haven't done very much aujourd'hui.   I watched the football and was most disheartened by Sunderland's 94th minute penalty. Food shopping beckoned too as I had resorted to a frozen meal from the uni shop on Friday. I now have a fully stocked fridge including 1.6Kg of mince. I went a little overboard. Everything not only is more expensive here (nearly $4 for a small box of own brand teabags - what's that about???) but it also seems to come in a minimum size which is far larger than I would generally like! I don't think I'll use 2kg of flour or sugar before Christmas, not unless I perpetually bake. However, these things should last me a while. The downside of everything being so big (and we thought supersizing was a thing of the USA) was that it was also heavy resulting in needing to get Victoria to help me carry my bags from the bus stop, especially since one handle broke and another bag split completely. Oh dear!.
Oh my! This corridor is quite noisy! Some people had a guitar jamming session earlier and now it sounds a little like a party is going on! I must investigate all this noise.