Walk a mile in these shoes for a glass of Good King Henry

A week is a long time in politics, as someone famously said. I think it was that wily old devil, Harold Wilson, whose surprise resignation in 1976, shocked me, as a young student. Prime Ministers didn’t resign, did they? Well actually they did, and still do of course, although the number of resignations amongst Tory Prime Ministers – four since 2016, must be something of a record. I saw Harold Wilson once, in one of the tearooms at the Houses of Parliament. 

It would take too much time to explain the reasons why Mrs PBT’s and I were in that auspicious place and wouldn’t be at all relevant to the piece I am writing, but he looked wizened, and shrunken with age, the unfortunate results of the condition that caused his resignation a decade and a half earlier. The poor man was suffering from Alzheimer’s, a condition that afflicted, and ultimately killed, my own father, and something I feel that many of us secretly fear, as we grow older.

That’s enough morbidity for one article, but the analogy used to describe how much can happen over seven days, in the seedy world of politics, to illustrate that a week is also a long time in the world of a beer writer. It depends on your reference point, of course, and if you’re a dedicated “pub ticker” like Retired Martin, or Simon Everit (BRAPA), then visiting a dozen or so pubs, over the course of a week, is small beer, if you’ll pardon the pun. Now I’ve only visited one pub, since my most recent article, but there’s been a lot else going on in other areas of my life, some of which involve plans for the future, whilst others are just plain old, run the mill, stuff, associated with an, at times, mundane existence.

So, at the risk of appearing like Boak & Bailey, with their weekly, Saturday morning write-up, here in no particular order, are a few things that have been happening in the world of Paul. Some of you will know that a switch of roles at work, following my decision to go part-time, saw me taking on the mantle of company Safety Advisor. Without bragging, I’ve made a lot of progress, although as I started from a rather low baseline, there remains, still much to do. Since November, I’ve become increasingly involved with the firm’s much vaunted, “expansion project,” a plan that was seriously derailed by the appearance of COVID, during the first quarter of 2020.

In the absence of anyone else, I’ve become the company’s de facto Site Manager, a role that sees me dealing with all sorts of diverse, but often interrelated issues. Alarm systems (both fire and intruder), is just one aspect, as are areas such as air-conditioning, heating, the phone system, waste collection, which includes the safe disposal of expired products and raw materials. The kick-start to the expansion project, has seen me dealing with various contractors, including several builders, and with my H&S hat on, the need to conduct risk assessments, prepare safe methods of working, plus the issue of PTW’s (Permits to Work), for some of the more high-risk activities.

Never a dull moment then, but to top this, our sales team have asked me to join them on the stand, at the major International Dental Show (IDS), which returns to the Rhineland city of Cologne, after a four year hiatus, thanks to COVID. It was in preparation for this show, that saw me taking the bus over to Tunbridge Wells, yesterday, with the express purpose of buying a new pair of (smart), black shoes, and therein lies a tale. I bought some black shoes last May, primarily to wear with my suit, during our Norwegian cruise. This was only for the onboard, formal evenings, and as things turned out, we only attended one of these “stuffed shirt” events.

The shoes themselves were comfortable, so I wore them to work, alternating them with my other, brown pair. Now I do a fair amount of walking, both around the site -see above, but also at lunchtimes, when I head off on my regular Chiddingstone-Charcott walk, but even so, I didn’t’ expect the soles to split. This defect only really became evident during last month’s business trip to Dundee, and whilst rain was perhaps expected, north of the border, wet feet were not, and after walking the short distance from the car-park to the conference centre, the defect affecting my footwear was only too apparent. Wet feet, means cold feet, and an unhappy Paul, so the situation obviously needed rectifying. Mrs PBT’s said it served me right for buying a cheap pair – Shoe Zone, being the High Street retailer at fault here.

I have to admit she is right, as both of us often castigate our son for the increasingly large pile of defective shoes, that he has purchased, over the years, from Shoe Zone, but even so, I would expect rather more wear from my foot wear than just seven months. I therefore grabbed the bull by the horns and headed to Clarks. “You get what you pay for,” as my wife always says and, as I’m sure I’ve reported on before, my parents were avid promoters for decent footwear, and both swore by Clarks, as a quality manufacturer and retailer.

We now come, at last, to the beer related part, as my bus journey to Tunbridge Wells, allowed me to call in at Fuggles Bottle Shop, as well as the company’s excellent beer café. So after trying on and purchasing a new pair of smart, back shoes, I headed off to the Bottle Shop, which is just a short distance away, in Camden Road. The shop looked as if it had received a makeover since my visit last year, but with a number of fridges packed full of bottles and cans, plus an array of taps offering draft craft keg to takeaway, by the litre, I was spoiled for choice. I had already made my mind up, having looked online the night before, so opted for three choice Bavarian strong, bottled beers to enjoy over a couple of chilly evenings.

Mission accomplished, I headed along to Fuggles Beer Café, which is just past the town's main Post Office. Opened in 2013, the Tunbridge Wells outlet is where it all started for Fuggles. Whilst I’m a fairly regular visitor to the Tonbridge outlet, it’s been quite a few years since I last called in at the company’s original beer café, so I was quite surprised (pleasantly) at just how busy the place was. Granted it was late afternoon, at the end of the week, but there was a good mix of customers, and a real buzz about the place.

I approached the bar, pleased to see that the Good King Henry Special Reserve, from the Old Chimneys Brewery, was on tap, as promised on Fuggles website and Facebook page, the previous day. This 10% Imperial Stout is something of a rarity, and is now brewed at Grain Brewery, under the supervision of Alan Thompson, who founded and ran, the Old Chimneys Brewery between 1995 and 2019. Like the (in)famous Westvleteren 12°, ranked as best beer in the world by RateBeer, GKH is one of those beers that most people haven’t heard of. Despite this low profile, it apparently is the only British beer to feature in the RateBeer top 50.

Call me a philistine, but such rankings mean little to me, and certainly don’t impress, but having said that, and seeing this potent stout on sale, from hand-pump, right in front of me, meant it would have been rude not to try a glass – except I didn’t, at least not straight away. To start with I needed a beer that was pale, hoppy and refreshing, especially after having completed a small section of the Tunbridge Wells Circular Walk, that morning. My attention was drawn to Comfort Zone, a 3.8% beer from Bone Machine Brew Co. Asked by the barman if I wanted a straight glass or a jug, I opted for the latter, the second occasion I have done such a thing in Fuggles.

After paying for my beer, I manged to find a small vacant table at the rear of the pub and sat down to enjoy my beer. It lived up to expectations, so my pint didn’t last long. There was only one thing for it afterwards, and that was to go for the GKH, but only a third mind you, seeing as this was a 10% beer. As you can se from the photo, the beer looks rather lost in the bottom of that rather strange “house” glass. What the stout lacked in quantity, it more than made up in quality, being dense, dark and delicious, with an underlying intense sweetness reminiscent of a fine dessert wine. Some beer lovers have compared it to Harvey’s Prince of Denmark, a beer that I enjoyed over the Christmas period, but as the latter only weighs in at 7.5%, it is difficult to make such comparisons.

I rather rushed the last mouthful, as I knew there was a bus due shortly. Fortunately, the bus stop is just across the road, and almost directly opposite Fuggles, so I managed to catch the bus, back to Tonbridge. Once there, I was also able to jump onto a connecting service which took me to the top of my road. There’s more to come regarding rambling, toilets in micro-pubs and an old beer book that turned up, whilst I was sorting out a number of items to take to the charity shop. Keep watching these pages for further details.