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!

Pub Passports - a vanished phenomenon, or one that's worthy of a comeback?

Following on from my previous article about biting the bullet and retiring completely from my current part-time job, I received a number of suggestions about how to enjoy the additional time I’ll be granted. First and foremost, amongst these was a slightly facetious suggestion from an anonymous correspondent that I could try drinking in all the Shepherd Neame pubs during my first twelve months of retirement.

My response was that I’ve been there, and done that, even though it was over 40 years ago. It was a labour of love slog back then and having experienced the mad dash of getting round all 286 Shepherd Neame houses, it is not an experience I’d care to repeat. However, that’s not to say that it’s a topic I don’t wish to write about, as I certainly do, but the trouble is where to start?

Pub passport schemes is an area that isn’t particularly well documented, and with my memory of events that occurred four decades or so ago, I wasn’t sure where to start, which is why I turned to AI, and specifically, Copilot, to come up with the facts. This AI platform certainly delivered, because in less time than it took me to type in the question, the software came up with the following detailed response, that I’ve reproduced, in full, below. The answers may surprise some of you, they did me – to a certain extent, but most importantly the narrative not only rang true, but also brought back memories of frantic days spent dashing all over Kent, as well as the borders of some of the adjacent counties.

Here’s a full, structured article on the pub “passport” schemes of the 1980's and 1990's - the quirky, charming, and very British marketing tradition that independent brewers used to get people exploring their tied estates.

Pub Passport Schemes: when independent brewers turned pub‑going into an adventure

During the 1980s and 1990s, long before craft beer culture exploded and social media made every pint a photo opportunity, independent brewers across Britain were quietly running one of the most inventive marketing ideas the industry has ever seen: pub passport schemes. These were playful, collectible, surprisingly competitive programmes designed to encourage drinkers to explore a brewery’s tied houses — and they became a beloved part of pub culture for thousands of enthusiasts.

What was a Pub Passport?

A pub passport was exactly what it sounded like: a small booklet, usually pocket‑sized, issued by a brewery. Each page represented one of the brewery’s pubs. When a drinker visited a pub and bought a pint (or sometimes just asked nicely), the landlord would stamp the passport. Collect enough stamps and you’d earn rewards — anything from enamel badges and T‑shirts to brewery tours, limited‑edition beers, or even entry into prize draws.

It was "gamification" before the word existed. And it worked.

Why independent brewers loved them

The 1980's and 1990's were turbulent decades for British brewing. Consolidation was rampant. Big national brewers were swallowing smaller ones, and tied estates were constantly changing hands. Independent regional brewers — names like Shepherd Neame, Hall & Woodhouse, Adnam’s, Everards, Arkell’s, Robinsons, and Harvey’s -needed ways to keep drinkers loyal and to differentiate themselves from the corporate giants.

Pub passports offered:

·         A reason to visit multiple pubs, not just the local.

·         A sense of community and belonging, especially among beer enthusiasts.

·         A way to showcase the variety of their estates, from rural coaching inns to quirky town-centre boozers.

·         A low-cost promotional tool, relying on fun rather than heavy advertising.

For many breweries, passports became a yearly tradition — updated designs, new prizes, and sometimes special “passport ales” brewed to accompany the scheme.

The culture around collecting

Pub passport collecting developed its own subculture. Some drinkers treated it casually, filling pages over months. Others approached it with near‑military precision, planning weekend expeditions to tick off remote pubs.

Stories from the era include:

·         Drinkers hiring minibuses to complete entire counties in a day.

·         Passport clubs forming, complete with newsletters and meet-ups.

·         Friendly rivalries between collectors comparing stamp counts.

·         Landlords designing their own quirky stamps — everything from hop flowers to cartoon sheep.

For many, the joy wasn’t the prize at the end but the journey: discovering hidden pubs, meeting new people, and experiencing the full character of a brewery’s estate.

A tool for pub tourism before it had a name

Pub passports also unintentionally supported local tourism. They encouraged people to explore villages, market towns, and rural areas they might never otherwise visit. Some local councils even partnered with brewers, recognising the schemes as a way to bring visitors into their communities.

In coastal areas, passports often included scenic walking routes linking pubs. In rural counties, they became unofficial guides to countryside inns. In cities, they offered curated pub crawls long before apps did the same.

Why the schemes faded

By the late 1990's and early 2000's, pub passport schemes began to decline. Several factors contributed:

·         The Beer Orders of 1989, which reshaped the tied-house system and disrupted traditional brewery estates.

·         Increasing consolidation, reducing the number of independent brewers with large, tied estates.

·         The rise of guest beers, making brewery loyalty less central to drinkers.

·         Digital marketing, which replaced physical booklets with online campaigns.

·         Changing drinking habits, with fewer people undertaking large pub crawls.

Some breweries kept the tradition alive into the 2000's, but the golden age of pub passports was undeniably the 80's and 90's. 

Legacy and modern echoes

Though the original schemes have mostly disappeared, their spirit lives on:

·         CAMRA ale trails, often run at beer festivals or across local branches.

·         City beer passports, now common in places like London, Leeds, and Manchester.

·         Craft brewery taproom trails, encouraging visits to multiple venues.

·         Digital stamp apps, which mimic the old booklet experience.

But for many who remember them, nothing quite matches the charm of a physical passport, a fresh stamp, and the satisfaction of completing a brewery’s entire estate!

Why they matter today

Pub passport schemes represent a moment in British beer history when independent brewers used creativity rather than scale to compete. They celebrated exploration, community, and the simple joy of discovering a new pub.

In an era where pubs face unprecedented challenges, the nostalgia surrounding these schemes is more than sentiment — it’s a reminder of how imaginative, local, and human the pub trade can be.

So, a well-thought-out response, and one that is more far-reaching and enlightening than anything I could have come up with. I’d still be interested to know if readers (of a certain age), have experiences of this phenomenon that they’d like to share, or whether they feel that pub passport schemes could still play a role in keeping pubs and pub culture in the minds of the general public.