Our recent round Britain cruise: a few notes from the journey

In case anyone was wondering, my most recent post relating to my drinking habits and early pub experiences, was written before we set off on our recent round‑Britain cruise. I’d sketched out the bare bones of the article, but there simply wasn’t sufficient time to “polish it” - no chance to add the bold text that certain readers so much adore, and no opportunity to drop in the photos, most of which are still on my phone. Additionally, there was certainly no time for a proper re-read, prior to hitting the “publish” button. So now that we’re back, what of the voyage we’ve just returned from?

For those paying attention, Mrs PBT’s and I embarked on a ten‑day cruise around the British Isles. The official title was “Highlights of the British Isles,” and our route took us from Tilbury, the home port of Ambassador Cruise Lines, up to the Orkney Islands, then down to the Hebrides, including the islands of both Lewis and Mull. From there we headed across the Irish Sea to Belfast. After leaving Ulster, our ship sailed down to Cobh in the Republic of Ireland, the port for nearby Cork, which is southern Ireland’s second‑largest city.

An evening’s south-easterly cruising brought us to the Isles of Scilly, that small, sub-tropical archipelago off the south-west tip of England. From the Scillies, we enjoyed a slow, scenic sail home, hugging the coasts of south-west and southern England before joining the shipping lanes that funnel traffic through the English Channel. This meant crossing over to the French side of La Manche and followed the coastline for a while, before heading back to Blighty in the early hours of Thursday morning. We then picked up the local pilot and entered the Thames estuary, arriving in back Tilbury in good time for an early disembarkation.

Those who’ve been following the blog, will know this was our second round‑Britain cruise. The first took place in May, last year, aboard the Queen Anne, travelling anticlockwise. That itinerary included Leith (Edinburgh), Invergordon, Stornoway, and Greenock, before heading down to Liverpool. From Liverpool we crossed the Irish Sea to Cobh and then returned to Southampton. A similar itinerary, but different towns, different cities, and different experiences. Both cruises were good, and both were distinct in their own way — so I’m not going to start making comparisons.

Highlights

There were plenty. Kirkwall, in the Orkney Islands, was a delight - a lovely little town, untouched and unsullied by many of the 21st‑century woes that afflict mainland Britain (litter and mindless graffiti, posing as art). Stornoway was enjoyable too, even though our visit was practically identical to our previous visit, last May.

Mull was different, and very enjoyable. I’ve got enough notes to write a separate post about the visit I made to Tobermory, the island’s largest settlement, so I shan’t elaborate too much, here. But with no suitable berth for even a relatively small cruise-ship, passengers were ferried ashore by tender — essentially a repurposed lifeboat — landing at the east side of the town. Mrs PBT’s didn’t join me for that one, and despite her absence I enjoyed a smashing day wandering around Tobermory, with its gaily painted houses, shops, bars, and restaurants. Sunshine, wind, colour, atmosphere, and more, and all spot on!

Belfast was a complete contrast and represented a first visit for both of us. I’m pleased to report that Belfast is a thriving, dynamic city, full of recent developments and new investment. It’s a city that’s clearly determined to put the infamous “Troubles” firmly behind it. We called in for a drink at the famous, "CAMRA Heritage" Crown Liquor Saloon, a pub which met all our expectations, and more, although surprisingly, at just after 11.30 am, the place was absolutely heaving, and incredibly busy. (More about the Crown in a separate post).

We didn’t do anything overly ambitious in Cobh, just a stroll along the waterfront, a sit‑down overlooking the sea, a bit of shopping, and a visit to a different Irish pub from last time. Not Professor Pie Tin’s former local, I’m afraid, but quite close to it, and it must be said that the Rob Roy was a cracking place that served an excellent pint of Murphy’s. Murphy’s, of course, being one of Cork’s two rival breweries that challenge Guinness’s hegemony. In common with a number of fellow cruisers, we sat outside at one of several tables and watched the world go by.

The Isles of Scilly were another story. The transfer ashore involved an open boat belonging to local fishermen rather than a ship’s tender, and with choppy seas I decided to give St Mary’s a miss. I’ve got a few regrets about that, and perhaps I made the wrong call, especially as conditions had calmed down by the time the transfer boats were running steadily. But I really didn’t fancy the two, 30-minute crossings, sitting on an uncomfortable wooden seat, bouncing about in the swell – and that’s coming from someone who doesn’t suffer from seasickness! There’s always next time, although perhaps not?

A Few Final Thoughts

Ambassador Cruise Lines’ Ambience is obviously quite different from Cunard’s Queen Anne, and whilst there are aspects of the former that I prefer, there are also things I missed from the Cunard vessel. You can’t have everything, and in summary, both round‑Britain voyages were interesting, enjoyable, and memorable. The later one was blessed with mainly fine weather, unlike the first, where Liverpool, in particular, gave us a couple of very wet days, but that’s the “joy” of cruising in home waters!

 

A reflection on drinking habits, family history, and changing times

I’m not entirely sure what to make of recent reports about declining alcohol consumption, and it’s hard to know what exactly is really driving the change. Are we witnessing a genuine cultural shift in attitudes and behaviour, as some commentators suggest? Or are more practical factors at play, such as the high price of a drink today compared with 40 or 50 years ago, when people of my generation first started going to pubs?

I didn’t grow up in a household where alcohol was freely available. Neither of my parents drank. My maternal grandparents, however, both enjoyed a tipple: my grandfather favoured bottled pale and brown ale, while my grandmother preferred gin. Her story is particularly interesting. Raised in the Welsh Valleys by strict, chapel‑going Methodist parents, she never touched a drop until she moved to London to work in service. She told me she was horrified to discover that my grandfather enjoyed a few pints, and her first visit to a pub - somewhere in north-west London, Hampstead quite probably, was a shock. It was a proper spit‑and‑sawdust place, nothing like the genteel surroundings she’d imagined. Despite that rocky introduction, both grandparents came to enjoy a drink and were no strangers to the pub.

Things were very different on my father’s side. Neither of his parents drank, though I’m not entirely sure why. My paternal grandfather originally came from South Africa and arrived in Britain during the First World War to fight for "King and Country". He was injured somewhere on the Western Front and invalided out of the services. I never saw any sign of lasting injury, but it wasn’t something one talked about at the time, and I never thought it appropriate to ask my father. My Granny Bailey was something of an enigma, and whilst, as a child, I was very fond of her, I knew little about her background. She dressed in a distinctly old‑fashioned way that’s best described as late Edwardian. If you’ve ever watched Dad’s Army, my grandmother resembled those elderly ladies who pestered Jack Jones the Walmington-on-Sea butcher, although she also bore a resemblance to Godfrey’s sisters, Sissy and Dolly.

Fast‑forward to my late teens, and I became the family member who broke the mould - the “black sheep”, if you like, when I discovered the pleasures of going to the pub and enjoying a decent pint. This was much to my mother’s horror and my father’s indifference. During my student years and well into my twenties, pub‑going and beer drinking were regular fixtures in my life. When I lived in Maidstone, I’d wander down to the nearest pub, which was one just around the corner, and spend an hour or two knocking back two, or sometimes three pints in an evening. I doubt I was unusual in that.

Later, when life changed and I moved from wife No.1 to wife No. 2, my drinking habits shifted, at the same time. Eileen has never been much of a pub‑goer, and whilst we’re chalk and cheese in that respect, we get along perfectly well in most other respects. My involvement with CAMRA ensured I still got out for a few pints, and on quieter evenings I’d enjoy draught beer at home, initially from the nearby Priory Wines Cellars, off‑licence in Tonbridge, and later, when I changed jobs and began commuting to and working in Lewes, direct from Harvey’s Brewery. I’d regularly visit the Harvey’s shop to fill my plastic, 4-pint container with freshly drawn Best Bitter or whatever seasonal beer they had on tap, and this situation continued for a number of years.

Over the last few decades, my consumption has dropped considerably, especially since our son was born. It’s now quite rare for me to go out in the evenings, and I also no longer have a “local”.  If I did, it would be the Nelson Arms in Tonbridge, even though it is a bit of a hike: thirty minutes there, forty minutes back. This is probably just as well, health-wise.  Instead, I might have a small can or bottle in the evening, but my alcohol consumption has definitely declined. The health lobby would say that’s a good thing, although brewers and publicans might disagree.

What I haven't included here are the years – the best part of a decade, when I was a committed home brewer. I ended up as a pretty a good well, and accomplished brewer producing full mash (all-grain), and well-hopped beers on a plant that I'd cobbled together in our lean-to garage. Once every four to six weeks, I’d churn out five gallons of eminently drinkable home brew, in styles that ranged from pale ales and bitters to strong, winter ales, with practically everything in between. Once primary and secondary fermentation were finished the beer would be racked into polypins that were kept cool, out in the garage. The whole process was a real labour of love, and but it was something I enjoyed, and found very satisfying. However, it was rather time consuming and invariably involved an early start - to get the mash. That was then followed by running off the sweet wort, into the second hand, stainless steel Burco-boiler, that I picked up in a junk-shop. Sparging (look in up!) then followed, before a rolling, 90-minute boil, which was when the hops were added. Cooling and fermentation then followed, and in approximately three weeks’ time, the beer was ready to drink. 

Things changed when we had an extension built on the side of the house. The garage disappeared, to form a new kitchen and adjoining dining room, with a new bedroom and bathroom built up above. That was the end of my home brewing which, although a shame in some respects, did give me freedom to do other things. This was important, because from start to finish, the process was quite time consuming. I also hate to think how high our electricity bill must have been at the time, as boiling 5 gallons of wort, for a period of around 90 minutes, must have consumed a lot of energy.

Somewhere at home, I've got a brewing log detailing the various beers I produced over the years, and I must try and find it sometime, as there was a substantial amount. I started out using books edited by the late Dave Line, who was one of pioneers of mashing at home – as opposed to brewing using malt extract. I later switched to the CAMRA sponsored, home brewing series, written by Graham Wheeler.  There's plenty of opportunity here for some further articles about home - brewing which I might get round to writing, once I fully retire. 

Finally, and quite by chance, I met a character on our most recent cruise, who was a dedicated full-mash, home brewer. We also met his wife who, came across as not being quite so keen on her husband’s “hobby”! It was good chatting to this individual, as well as encouraging to learn that there are still home-brewers out there, dedicated to keeping this ancient craft alive.

 

Off cruising again

Well for the second morning this week, we've woken to some much needed, and very welcome rain.  It’s still raining now, which is good news not just for gardeners but also because it will help replenish dwindling water supplies. Without wishing to appear over virtuous, we have tried to limit our use of water a number of small ways. Still, every little helps as "the lady that pissed in the sea" said, but moving swiftly on, we’re banking on the rain stopping for Bank Holiday Monday and beyond. 

This is because Mrs PBT's and I are off on another jolly. It's a Round Britain cruise similar to the one that we did a couple of years ago on Cunard’s Queen Anne. This time, we're sailing on the smaller Ambience cruise ship, operated by Ambassador Cruises, and whilst it’s a similar route, the itinerary, is quite different, as the only ports that will be duplicated are Stornoway in the Hebrides, and Cobh in southern Ireland, pronounced "Cove”, as we’ve recently discovered. 

The cruise will take us to destinations
like Belfast, Kirkwall in the Orkney Isles, Tobermory in Mull, plus St Mary Port in the Isles of Scilly. Landing at the latter two destinations depends rather on weather conditions, as we’ll be leaving the boat by tender. Effectively this means one of the ship's lifeboats will transfer passengers ashore from the ship, because there aren't adequate birthing facilities at these two destinations.

I've been looking at pubs in these destinations and  the Crown Liquor Saloon is the obvious must visit stop, in Belfast. It’s facing competition though, as Mrs PBT's has her sights set on the Titanic Belfast set in the docks area of the port. This is highly appropriate, as the doomed ocean liner was built at the nearby Harland and Wolff shipyards. There’s obviously sufficient time to enjoy both attractions and perhaps experience a bit of the city as well.  An Irish colleague of mine isn’t over enamoured with Belfast, but as she’s a Derry girl, that’s perhaps understandable.

That’s Belfast sorted, but I’d welcome recommendations for classic and unspoilt pubs in Kirkwall, Stornoway, Tobermory, and the Scilly Isles. (Cobh is already sorted, with a visit to Professor Pie Tin’s former local). As for Mull, it’s an island that I’ve visited before, back in my student days, when I took part in a Botany field course. That was at the end of the second-year summer term, which saw us camping out in the grounds of a faded, former stately home. We spent two weeks on the island pretending to be botanists, and as a break from looking at the local flora, we nipped across to Iona, a small island just off the western tip of Mull, with a much greater religious significance, due to its connections with early Celtic Christianity. However, with a two hour journey by road, each way I won't be doing that again, although I noticed that the cruise line is offering excursions across to Iona, from Mull.

It’s worth mentioning that whilst Ambassador is a budget cruise line, the price of this particular cruise wasn't as good value as the voyage we experienced earlier in the year. That, of course, was our cruise to Norway – the one with the strong winds, high seas, and stormy conditions.  Mrs PBT's is keen on it this trip and I too am looking forward to what will be a welcome break, especially after all the brown stuff that’s been flying around recently at work. As with the Norwegian voyage, Ambience is sailing from Tilbury so, Bank Holiday traffic willing, it should be a relatively straight forward drive, from Bailey Towers.

I doubt that I'll be posting much, if anything, whilst we're away in view of the previous IT issues I've had with password recognition, Wi-Fi connectivity etc, but I shall be taking a good old-fashioned notebook with me, to record the salient parts. It will be good too to enjoy a digital detox, although as my good, lady wife is an unashamed telly addict I doubt I'll get much relief from the incessant outpouring of so-called “news” coming from the cabin’s TV.

Finally, I shall be taking a couple of books with me, although rather than the usual works of fiction, both are biographies of two very contrasting people.

Stalin’s Englishman: The Lives of Guy Burgess by Andrew Lownie is widely praised as the first truly comprehensive, deeply researched biography of Guy Burgess, one of the five infamous "Cambridge Spies" who betrayed their country to the Soviet Union, both before and after World War II. Burgess leaked high‑level intelligence, which influenced major events, from the Nazi–Soviet Pact to the Korean War and comes across as one of Britain’s most chaotic yet effective spies. He was also a right shit, by all accounts, although I shall reserve judgement until I have finished the book.

Too Close to the Sun: The Audacious Life and Times of Denys Finch Hatton is widely regarded as an atmospheric, and well researched biography of one of the most enigmatic figures of colonial East Africa. Author, Sara Wheeler reveals a fully knowable man, who nonetheless remains elusive, despite the myth, and the magnetic charm that made him legendary. During his time in East Africa, Hatton enjoyed a passionate relationship with Danish settler, coffee grower and author, Karen Blixen, who wrote about her experiences in the best seller, "Out of Africa".

 

What future for CAMRA amidst financial losses and falling membership, as cask ale volumes continue to decline

Despite its position as one of the UK’s most influential consumer organisations, the Campaign for Real Ale (CAMRA) is confronting one of the most challenging periods in its 55‑year history. The group has reported significant financial losses, shrinking membership, and a rapidly changing beer market that threatens the future of traditional cask ale - the very product CAMRA was founded to protect.

The Campaign’s latest accounts show the organisation ended 2025 with a substantial operating deficit, driven by rising costs and declining revenue from festivals, publications, and membership fees. The financial strain has forced CAMRA to cancel a number of major events, including the Great British Beer Festival and its Winter counterpart, after both failed to attract sufficient visitors to break even.

Membership numbers have also fallen sharply and now stand at 143,038 - an eight‑year low.  For a variety of reasons, numbers are unlikely to return to pre‑pandemic levels, something the Campaign is slowly coming to terms with. The cost‑of‑living crisis has made the £35 annual fee harder to justify for many drinkers, while the steady decline of cask ale in pubs has reduced the traditional benefits (beer vouchers, discounts) that CAMRA offers its members. On top of this, pubs are closing at a rate of two to three per day, reducing further the number of venues that serve cask, 

These internal pressures reflect wider industry trends. Cask ale volumes have dropped for two consecutive years, (7.1% in 2025, after an 11.2% drop in 2024), as younger drinkers switch to lager, craft keg, and low/no‑alcohol beers. As if these factors were not enough, CAMRA’s membership base is ageing, as the organisation struggles to attract newer blood. In the meantime, multinational brewers are tightening their grip on the bar, offering tied deals and supply packages that make it harder for independent breweries to secure space for their beers on the taps. CAMRA warns that this creates an “illusion of choice” for drinkers, with many brands ultimately owned by the same large companies.

In a somewhat muted response, the Campaign has begun a programme of restructuring and cost‑cutting, which includes reductions in staff and a shift toward digital publishing, although these measures were to some extent, already in place before things started to go pear-shaped. The organisation admits it must adapt quickly to safeguard its future, but the challenges ahead are deep and structural.

Whether CAMRA can reinvent itself, and whether cask ale can regain momentum among younger drinkers, remains uncertain. What is clear is that the organisation is entering a pivotal moment, one that may define its role in Britain’s beer culture for decades to come. The Campaign ended the 2025 financial year almost £800,000 in the red before tax, an unusually severe loss for a membership‑based consumer organisation, and one which will be difficult to recover from – if it does at all!