A few thoughts from yesteryear - or how my love affair with beer began

In his autobiography, “A Sort of Life,” the author, Graham Greene, wrote about his first taste of beer. He described how, after initially hating the taste, and having to force it down to prove his manhood, he later found the memory of the taste coming back to haunt his thirst during a long walk in the country. Greene went on to describe how he and his companion stopped for a drink plus some bread and cheese at a country inn, where he “Drank bitter for the second time and enjoyed the taste with a pleasure that has never failed me since.”

A similar sort of experience was described by the journalist and pioneering beer writer, Richard Boston in his informative and highly entertaining book “Beer and Skittles.” My love affair with beer began in the early 1970’s, but I cannot claim that my first experience of drinking it was as memorable, or indeed as special, as those described by Messrs Greene and Boston. It took place at a “Country Fayre”, held in the small town of Wye, a few miles from my home village of Brook. I was member of the local scout troop at the time, and our contribution to the Fayre was to run the coconut shy. The main highlight of the event though was to be a re-enactment of a civil war “skirmish” by members of the “Sealed Knot Society”. 

Watching this colourfully dressed bunch of cavaliers and general bon-viveurs, wandering around the Fayre, prior to the enactment, with a string of pretty girls in tow and clutching their foaming tankards of ale, persuaded myself and a couple of my fellow scouts that a drink would be a good idea. So, forgetting all about what Baden Powell might have said, we nipped into the beer tent where I was treated to a light ale by the two patrol leaders. They were both a couple of years older than me and were no strangers to beer. Like Graham Greene, I wasn’t over keen on the taste, but drank it down, nevertheless.

By the time I reached the VIth form at school, I was a regular visitor at several local pubs. I slowly graduated from bottled beer to draught. In Whitbread pubs I tended to drink brown and mild, whilst in Courage houses, I drank Tavern Keg initially, before switching to PBA – a light mild which has long since been discontinued. As I became more mature, I developed a liking for bitter itself. I slowly became aware of the difference between cask-conditioned “real ale” and brewery-conditioned keg beer but, more importantly, I developed a burgeoning interest in the different breweries who were still in operation during the early 1970’s, sparking off a life-long interest in beer and brewing.

One of the pleasures of drinking during this time was being able to tell whereabouts one was in the country, by the local beer on offer. There was a patchwork of independent breweries the length and breadth of the country, ranging from regional giants such as Marston’s and Greene King to small concerns such as Batham’s and Harvey’s. Each had its own territory, its own distinctive beers and, quite often, its own style of pub. This made travelling a fulfilling and pleasant experience, and also made the destination much more rewarding and enjoyable. There was a sense of anticipation which went with visiting certain towns, or areas, in the knowledge that the beers you were going to drink weren’t available anywhere else. As a beer lover, you also knew which parts of the kingdom would offer the best choice, or the most distinctive beers, and which areas to avoid.

For example the Greater Manchester conurbation could boast one of the best selections of beer anywhere in the country, as there were around half a dozen independent brewers operating in the region, alongside a couple of national breweries which also turned out a decent drop of beer. Contrast this with the county of Norfolk, where a series of takeovers and mergers had left most of the county’s pubs in the grip of one large brewer: the infamous Watney Mann. Watney’s, had abandoned cask beer altogether and, as Richard Boston so eloquently put it, “had placed all their kegs in one basket.” If you didn’t like cold, weak, fizzy, and characterless beer and lived in Norfolk, you were out of luck!

Obviously, things have changed over the past half century, and good beer is not only far more widely available, but comes in a myriad of different types, styles, and strengths. Beer Agencies – companies that distributed a variety of different beers, from all over the country, coupled with the parallel rise of the “beer exhibition” pubs, which served these beers meant that in many cases punters could drink beers from the length and breadth of the British Isles, just by working their way along the bar!

Whilst many drinkers welcomed this vastly increased choice, for drinkers like myself it took much of the fun and excitement out of travelling around the country. Gone were the joys of a visit to Dorset, where the delights of Eldridge Pope, Hall & Woodhouse and Palmers awaited the thirsty drinker, or pitching up in rural Lincolnshire to enjoy a few pints of Bateman’s. A weekend in Oxford meant being able to sup the much-missed Morrells beers, whilst a little further back along the Thames Valley, saw one in Henley-on-Thames, where the incomparable Brakspear’s Ales were available, in some of the most unspoilt and picturesque pubs imaginable.

I have fond memories of a camping and cycling holiday in the Cotswolds, based just outside Stow-in-the- Wold; the intention being to visit and drink in as many Donnington pubs as possible. Also memorable were the forays made, by bicycle, from south London where I was living at the time, into Surrey where there was a handful of pubs belonging to Horsham brewers, King & Barnes. Their Horsham PA, pale in colour, low in strength, but packed full of flavour and crowned with a flowery hoppiness, remains as one of my all-time favourite beers, even though sadly, it is no longer available. It certainly made the effort of all that pedal-pushing worthwhile. Further afield, a trip into the area of East Sussex, centred on Lewes, meant the chance of enjoying the delectable and, in my view the still unbeatable, Harvey’s Prize Sussex Ales.

Adnam’s and Greene King beers are now nationally available, and the same has happened to other well-regarded brewers, such as Timothy Taylor’s and Shepherd Neame, to name just a couple. Slowly, but surely, the uniqueness that characterised the British beer scene has been eroded, and whilst there has been an unprecedented rise in the numbers of new brewers entering the market, producing some outstanding beers (as well as rather too many mediocre ones), the decline in the numbers of independent family brewers, coupled with the rise of voracious pub owning companies has made pub-going a real lottery for many drinkers.

Whilst the potential choice of beers available to today’s drinker would seem unimaginable to one from 40 years ago, much of this choice is random in its distribution and often haphazard in nature. By way of contrast, I look back to the years of mid 1970’s, with a real fondness. Today too much choice really does mean less, and I feel we have definitely lost something which is both unique and rather precious.