The "Dog Days" of summer are over

Following a record-breaking four heat waves, the summer of 2025 appears to have suddenly come to an end. Looking out at the weather this morning, the sun is shining, after some much-needed overnight rain, although there has been a noticeable decrease in temperature. While it may be premature to describe the air as chilly, the period of warmer weather does seem to have finally concluded. Accordingly, the title "The Dog Days of Summer are Over," reflects this shift, and with 

Florence & The Machine's bizarre music video as a backdrop, it is appropriate to reflect on this record-breaking summer and highlight some of its more significant moments.

It is increasingly apparent that this record-breaking summer has accelerated the seasonal cycle – a phenomenon I first noticed a few weeks ago, during one of my regular lunchtime walks. I noticed then that many of the blackberries in the hedgerows were already ripe and ready for picking, several weeks earlier than usual. Of more concern though was the observation that many of the trees were showing premature browning of their leaves, which appears to be a stress response, most likely associated with conserving water. 

Although the warm weather may well benefit fruit crops by speeding their ripening, the prolonged lack of rainfall, over recent months, will almost certainly reduce overall yields come harvest time, especially for staples such as wheat, barley, and oats. With insufficient rainfall, the grains will not have had sufficient moisture to swell to the correct size. On my return drive this morning, after dropping off Mrs PBT’s at her workplace, I was struck by a distinct sense of the season drawing to an early close, as I drove along the farm track leading back to the main road.

Autumn has always been one of my favourite times of year, and I expect this year will be no exception, but seeing ripened fruit and already harvested fields, whilst visually appealing, gives rise to apprehension about the possibility of the early onset of winter. As always, the precise nature of the coming winter remains uncertain, but mother nature may well still have a surprise up her sleeve. Last year’s winter saw very little frost, which was not necessarily a bad thing for those who commute early in the morning, where icy road conditions can be disruptive, and often dangerous.

In some ways, experiencing a harsh
winter, with abundant snowfall and freezing temperatures, would be a re-assuring sign of a return to normality, as the mild winters of recent years, have meant we have hardly used our log burner. I purchased it originally as a “back-up” source of heat, should the boiler break down, but it does have other uses, and there is something warm, comforting, and almost mesmerizing about a roaring log fire in winter. Writing these lines, has reminded me of the need to get the chimney swept, before the real onset of winter. I did say that the stove hasn’t been used much, but despite this it is important to ensure there are no obstructions, such as bird nests, blocking the flue. We have a substantial supply of well-seasoned logs, that feel light and able to burn without cracking or spitting. They should provide ample warmth, although I normally leave the lighting and stoking of the stove to Mrs PBT’s.  

Back to the present, and on reflection I haven’t been out and about as much as I would have liked, and apart from a welcome and very enjoyable day out on the Surrey-Hants border, I haven’t been anywhere of note. l am making progress on our ongoing de-cluttering project, getting rid of things we no longer need or require. Like many people we tend to hang on to things we no longer need, either for sentimental reasons, or because we feel they may come in handy, at sometime in the future. Fortunately, I am getting much better at getting shot of stuff we no longer require, unlike Mrs PBT’s who’ s something of a serial hoarder.

I’m shortly going to take a wander down the garden and check out the shed, because there are three bikes in there – one for each family member. I'm probably the last person to use one of them, and that was three or four years ago possibly longer. Eileen and Matthew haven't used theirs in over a decade or more, so the idea is to clean them up a bit and find somewhere to take them off my hands. I’m sure that with a little TLC, these machines can be spruced up and re-homed. “Re-purposed” is the buzz word, here, but I'm not after money for them; I just want others to get the same use and the same pleasure out of these bikes, that family Bailey have done.

 So that's my project for later this morning, along with contacting a chimney sweep, as mentioned earlier. Showers are forecast for later today, so I need to get the bikes sorted sooner, rather than later. Tomorrow, I've promised to take Mrs PBT’s out for a spot of lunch, and the venue we’ve chosen is the Swan on the Green at West Peckham. Eileen has never been there before, so it will be good to introduce her to the pub and also see how things are progressing there, following the community buy-out. Looking at the forecast for Friday, I’m fairly certain that we shall be eating inside, so it’s just as well I booked a table.

We have arranged a cruise scheduled for mid-October through to the first week of November that will travel across the Atlantic, with planned stops at the Azores and Madeira. I previously visited both locations many years ago during an "educational school cruise"on the SS Nevasa, a converted troopship, owned by the British India shipping line. The accommodation on Nevasa was pretty basic – dormitories, fitted out with bunk-beds, a far cry from the unbridled luxury of a state room, on Cunard’s Queen Victoria. Not as much fun though, and when you’re 16 years old, and bedding down for the night, with a bunch of your schoolmates, you’re not overly bothered by a lack of creature comforts.

Eileen is particularly looking forward to our visit to Madeira, following her niece’s positive experiences there, during a recent holiday, and I shall be looking out for the wine lodges, where the island’s potent, fortified wines are matured. I recall, sampling a few glasses of Madeira, as a 16-year-old, schoolboy - an activity perhaps best reserved for adulthood, even though such misadventures are often part of growing up. Apart from getting mildly pissed in Madeira, my memories of the two island groups are somewhat vague. This particularly applies to the Azores, although I do recall a particular island with a large, volcanic crater that contained two adjacent lakes. One lake was a striking blue, while the other appeared an intense green. The colouring was something to do with the mineral contest of the two bodies of water, although I cannot recall which lake was which, or on which island they were located.

Beyond this, I have few specific recollections of that trip from over half a century ago, apart from the fact that like our upcoming cruise, most of the destinations on the 1971 voyage had a Portuguese connection. This then continues with the inclusion of Porto on the return journey, although we will also be calling at the port of Vigo, located on Spain’s southern coast. We stopped off at this compact and picturesque port city, during a cruise to Greece and some of the Greek islands, back in 2023. From memory you can walk straight off the ship in Vigo, and with a few shady bars, down some of the city’s narrow streets, it should prove a pleasant way of whiling away an hour or two.

As you might be aware from previous posts, Mrs PBT’s and I have celebrated a couple of significant occasions, including a milestone 70^th birthday for me, plus our Ruby wedding anniversary a couple of weeks’ ago. The week after next, Mrs PBT’s will be celebrating her own 70^th birthday, so there’s plenty  happening in the Bailey household, during the run up to our next cruise.

Fine dining, or something in-between

After my visit the other week to the upmarket Poacher & Partridge, I thought I’d take a look at another “fine dining” outlet. The pub I had in mind is just a couple of miles away from the Poacher but has a strikingly large number of similarities. It’s a public house called the Carpenters Arms, and it’s one that I’ve written about a couple of times in the past, mainly in connection with eating, and work’s summer parties. 

That would be Mrs PBT’s work’s bash, rather than my own, but since the pandemic the parties seem to have dried up. I’m not sure if that’s in line with the firm’s order book, or whether there’s some other reason, but these aren’t the sort of questions for me to ask. Instead, I used to just turn up, when instructed, and enjoy an evening of drink, plus a buffet, along with some interesting construction-like conversation.

Before getting down to the nitty-gritty of the article, it’s worth noting the unusual appearance of the Carpenters Arms. The pub is constructed to look like a “Dutch Barn”, a look which for a short while, was the house-style of former Maidstone brewers Style & Winch. The current building was constructed in 1932, and replaced two old cottages, which had formerly housed the pub. There are a number of other pubs, built in the same style, but only one is still trading as a pub. the World’s Wonder, in the village of Warehorne, on the edge of Romney Marsh. Style & Winch were a well-respected local brewer who were bought by the London brewers, Barclay Perkins shortly before the new pub was built. The company continued brewing their distinctive “Kentish Farmer” brand beers until well into the 1950’s when Barclays merged with their Southwark neighbours, Courage. The Maidstone Brewery then switched to producing Courage beers, until its closure in 1966.

The Carpenters underwent an extensive renovation several years ago and has since become a sought-after destination for residents of Tonbridge seeking a rural experience without venturing far from the town centre. The pub is conveniently accessible by bus during daytime hours, and offers a blend of bar, restaurant, and accommodation in a contemporary style. The interior features black and white photographs depicting the local area in former times, adding to the venue's character. An extensive and well-regarded menu appeals to a broad range of diners. The thoughtfully designed interior creates a welcoming atmosphere that balances modernity with comfort. 

Guests can enjoy al-fresco dining or drinks on either the front patio, the side garden, or the heated rear terrace. Upstairs, there are nine recently refurbished rooms that provide accommodation, for those wishing to stay longer. The Carpenter’s Arms is owned by Young’s plc, who reputedly paid a handsome sum for the pub.  Last time I called in, Young’s London Original, was one of the two cask offerings, but the beer isn't a patch on the Wadsworth-brewed original. So, here we have a beer that’s brewed at Burton-on-Trent, masquerading as a beer originating in the capital! Fortunately Harvey’s Sussex Best came to the rescue.

It’s a relatively easy journey to the Carpenters, from my house in Tonbridge, as the No. 7 Arriva bus, passes the junction where Three Elm Lane joins the A26, Hadlow Road. The bus stop is just before the large ESSO filling station, and shop – a feature you can’t really miss. The only slightly dodgy section in reaching the pub is the 6-minute walk along the lane to the Carpenters. 

I say dodgy because there is no pavement, and in places the hedge encroaches on the road, but it’s only a problem for a very short time, and if you keep your wits about you, with both eyes on the road ahead, whilst at the same time listening out for any traffic coming up behind, you will be fine. Then, before you know it, the pub will loom large on your left. The first part you’ll see is the raised, terrace garden, in front of the pub, and during the summer months you will probably hear the sounds of revelry, as well. I undertook this journey a couple of Sundays ago and am pleased to report that the outward and return journeys worked seamlessly. It is worth getting to the bus stop several minutes in advance, because buses sometimes run early, not often, I’ll grant you, but you don’t want to be the individual who gets caught out.

So, there we have it, another “fine dining” pub, worthy of a visit if you like that sort of thing, but if you want something more traditional and down to earth, then it’s worth shopping around. A mile and a half further along Three Elm Lane, in an easterly direction, will take you to the tiny hamlet of Golden Green and the Bell Inn. I’m fairly certain that I’ve never set foot in what CAMRA describes as “A well-kept traditional village pub, which is now a Free House and serving various local ales including Tonbridge Brewery.” With no mention of food, or even snacks, the Bell is the antithesis of fine dining, and a pub that sounds like the complete opposite to the Carpenters. I shall make a point of calling in, the next time I am passing, just so I can tick the place off.

Continuing for an additional mile and a half, towards the large, and sprawling  village of East Peckham, and you will see on your left, the picturesque Man of Kent, overlooking the river Bourne, in the hamlet of Little Mill. Now this 16^th century old inn is a pub I’ve been to several times in the past, and it's one I’d describe as being somewhere in between the Carpenters and the Bell. The Man of Kent is unusual these days in having two bars. The saloon bar has a very low oak beamed ceiling, so care is needed on entering! To the left is an alcove for dining while a massive, double-sided fireplace to the right separates the cosy public bar. The 208 bus, running between East Peckham and Tonbridge stops conveniently outside the pub, so there’s no excuse for me in not visiting this one. It has been on my radar for some time, so a trip out to the Bell, followed by  a stop off at the Man of Kent, sounds plausible for the next pub Friday!

Halfway House re-visited

I’ve written before about how I’ve gone off large, CAMRA style beer fests, whilst continuing to enjoy pub beer festivals, or similar, small-scale events. Speaking of which, one particular event provides a real attraction, and particular affection for me, and here I’m talking about the beer festival, held twice-yearly at the Halfway House, just outside the village of Brenchley. It’s been several years since I last attended this excellent festival, so on Friday I decided to make up for the deficit. August Bank Holiday being almost a week early (due to the 25^th being the last Monday in August), really threw me, and neither I nor Eileen had made any plans.

My decision then, to attend the event on the opening Friday, was made very much on the spur of the moment and was made with virtually none of the forward planning I usually put into such outings. For example, I hadn’t been in touch with any friends or associated from CAMRA, and whilst travel arrangements had been notified in advance, there seemed little consensus, certainly on the local WhatsApp group, as to which bus(es) to go for, and who exactly was.  The specified bus was the 12:15 Hams Travel service from Tunbridge Wells station, but as I had a few things to sort out at home first, I ended up taking the next bus, scheduled to depart at 14:10.

It was already running 10 minute’s late, and was then beset by the inevitable roadworks, this time in both Matfield and Brenchley. Worse still I had to endure two complete strangers, sat a couple of rows behind me, discussing their various ailments and medical conditions – a trait that doesn’t seem confined to just the elderly! That was definitely an occasion when a pair of earphones would have come in handy! 

I was losing the will to live by the time the bus deposited me outside the Halfway House, and with the time at almost 3pm, I had quite some serious catching up to do. The festival was in full swing, when I arrived, but first I popped into the pub to “top up the lager barrel” as an old CAMRA friend used to say. Being jolted around on a bus, was putting unwanted pressure on my bladder, so a nice clean pub toilet was most welcome. It was also a pleasant contrast to the “trough” – quite literally a re-purposed, farmyard drinking trough for cattle, that represented the facilities provided for male festival goers.

A group of friends from West Kent CAMRA branch had arrived before me, but had taken a different bus out to Matfield, walked down to Hopbine at Petteridge, in order to check it out, and then walked along to Halfway House. They followed the well-trodden, cross-country route between the two pubs, that many of us have used in the past. The news from the Hopbine was positive which is good to hear during these difficult times for the pub trade. I joined the group in one of the barn-like structures, sited towards rear of site. There was plenty of seating, although if truth be known, I would have preferred to have sat outside – so did a couple of others, but that’s another story.

With an impressive lineup of 60, gravity served beers, racked up in the outside barn, plus an additional 10 in the pub, cask drinkers were certainly spoiled for choice. At the outside bar, there was none of the glass deposit nonsense that is so much a feature of CAMRA events, and no wretched tokens either - just good old-fashioned cash or card if that’s your preferred method of payment. 

I know apologists for CAMRA style events claim that punters like to take a festival glass home with them, after the event – a souvenir, but there must be cupboards and cabinets throughout the land, groaning with the weight of yet another “festival” glass.  They eventually end up at the charity shop, which is where a load of mine are going, next week! Others argue that tokens help overall security, plus centralise cash collection and storage. I did notice at the last GBBF I attended (2019), that bars were sensibly taking cash, or card, so perhaps things have changed on a national level, within the Campaign.

The Halfway House beer festival is a very laid-back event, which on the surface, appears more or less to run itself. Behind the scenes though, a lot of detailed planning and organisation goes into the event, which has now been running for 22 years. With two festivals a year, the current event represents the 46^th beer bash for this family-run, country pub, and whilst much of the organising might seem like second nature, I suspect there’s a highly polished, well-oiled machine, behind the laid-back approach.

My only look inside the pub, the other day, was that visit to the Gents, but for those unfamiliar with the Halfway House, it is well-known among pub enthusiasts, for its emphasis on cask-conditioned beer. The casks are stored in a temperature-controlled room directly behind the bar, and beer is dispensed through extended taps that pass through specially designed wooden barrel facades of the back wall of the serving area. This arrangement ensures that the beer is served at an optimal temperature and in its most authentic form—directly from the cask. The pub itself lies in an idyllic countryside setting, between the villages of Brenchley and Horsmonden. With a large and extensive garden to left of the pub, that leads down into the bottom of a valley, bucolic would be the best way to describe the Halfway House.

Another characteristic of this easy-going, laid-back event, are a number of live groups of musicians or solo acts that provide an entertaining, but not intrusive musical background to the event. The final ingredient, of course, is something solid to help soak up all that beer, and once again the Halfway House delivers, with items from the pub’s main menu available during normal opening times for the kitchen, supplemented by barbecue items on the Friday, plus Hog Roasts on both Saturday and Sunday.

What about the beers themselves then? Well, with 70 cask offerings to choose from, visitors to the festival really are spoiled for choice, but in common with most other festivals of this size and scope, I do find a slight tendency for them all to start tasting the same, especially after three or four pints, drunk as halves. I normally start with the lower strength stuff, and then work my way slowly upwards, but Friday was something of a blur. With a two-hour interval between the last bus and the penultimate one, my friends who had been there longer than me opted for the latter bus. This meant drinking up and heading along to the bus stop, outside the pub along with a couple of dozen other people. We all managed to squeeze on to the 16:46 bus, and whilst I would like to have stayed longer, it was probably the sensible thing to do. The last bus departs at 18:32, and I could just imagine the ensuing chaos if an even larger number of punters all tried piling on to that final service of the evening.

It was probably just as well that I left when I did, my companions certainly thought they were doing the right thing, but it did mean missing out on a few more beers, plus some barbecued food. I shall plan things differently next time, but whether I shall revert to walking there and back, as was my wont prior to the pandemic, is open to question. As in previous years, the event attracted a diverse group of patrons who appreciated the beer, sunshine, barbecue, and convivial company. Held in the expansive pub garden, surrounded by picturesque rural scenery, the Halfway House beer festival embodies a quintessentially English experience, and for many, including myself, often provides an ideal conclusion to an excellent summer.

 

 

40 years, you woudn't get that for murder!

Last Friday, 15^th August 2025 was a significant date in the Bailey household - a significant anniversary wedding anniversary no less, and what better way to celebrate than to head out for a decent pub lunch. Friday was one of the hottest days of the year to date, but with no control over the weather, and not wishing to postpone our celebration, we headed out anyway. The pub we chose wasn't our first choice, for the reason I shall explain in a minute, but fortunately, the restaurant we ended up at, delivered on all fronts. 

By that I mean excellent food – well-cooked and well-presented, a pleasant and welcoming atmosphere, all combined with the benefit of a central location. Our original choice was the Plough, at Leigh, a lovely old rambling country inn, between Leigh village and Hildenborough, but the pub we ended up at was the Ivy House at the top end of Tonbridge High Street.

Before booking a table, I’d taken the precaution of checking the Plough’s website, in the full knowledge that the pub is a popular wedding venue. Unsurprising perhaps, because attached to one end of the pub, is an impressive 16^th century barn, with lots of exposed beams giving the place a genuine, an all-round rustic feel. True to form, the Plough’s website was showing the pub and the barn as fully booked both for Friday and Saturday. 

I continued with my online research, as I had several other venues in mind for our romantic meal. First up was the George & Dragon, at Speldhurst, an establishment that is one of the most historic and best-known pubs in the area. The G&D also has the added bonus of returning back into the ownership of the Sankey family, who have a long tradition in the hospitality trade as publicans, restauranteurs, and fishmongers. Then there was the two equally attractive pubs at Smart’s Hill, near Penshurst.

For those unfamiliar with the local area, these two pubs are the Spotted Dog and the Bottle House. I really like the Spotted Dog and noticed from the pub’s website that the pub has recently changed hands. The new owner has gone for something different, with the food taking on a distinct North American flavour, with a menu that is strongly influenced by the two Carolina’s (north & south). This equates to plenty of steaks, smoked meats, pulled pork, burgers etc, food that is big on flavours, and big on portions, but not really what we were looking for.

Just up the road from the Spotted Dog, and close to the top of Smart’s Hill, is the Bottle House, another fine old 16^th century inn with an equally fine reputation. It’s a pub I haven't been to for a long time, probably not since before the pandemic, but it’s always been a little more upmarket than the Spotted Dog. It’s also larger, with a brighter interior and less cramped inside, but having not had the chance to try out the pub, or indeed speak to anyone who has, I decided to put the Bottle House to one side for the time being.

Before making a final decision, I called in at the Leicester Arms, a large and attractive old pub that describes itself as a "quintessentially British Country Inn." Situated in the centre of the picturesque village of Penshurst, and virtually opposite the entrance to the medieval Penshurst Place - childhood home of Anne Boleyn, this iconic pub has gone through a major transformation under the new ownership of the Little & Large Pub Company, who have restored the pub to its former glory. With 11 stylish bedrooms, the Leicester Arms offers visitors a choice of comfortable rooms, for those in search of a romantic getaway, or just a bed for the night whilst exploring the local area. The Leicester Arms was offering a lunchtime deal of any two courses for £25, which seemed inviting, but with Mrs. PBT's preferring the Ivy House, we decided to go there instead.

With its position at what is, in effect, the gateway to Tonbridge, the Ivy started life as a toll-house, known as the Elephant & Castle. It later changed its name to the Ivy House, presumably because of the rampant ivy which covered the building at the time. Friday was hot, as I've already mentioned, but with the car park literally behind the pub, we pulled up to take our chances on a “walk-in.” According to the pub website, turn up and dine is “normally OK,” as indeed it was. 

There's a large, partially covered, outdoor eating area to the right of the pub, which is, offers plenty of shade in summer, plus shelter from the wind and rain during winter. It's semi-enclosed position can be heated using those wasteful gas-fired, space heaters during the colder months, but such considerations seemed miles away on a sweltering hot, mid-August afternoon. We chose a table as close to the entrance as possible, in an attempt to catch a cooling breeze, but despite this it was uncomfortably hot.

Having reviewed the menu in advance, I opted for the “pie of the day” after ascertaining the filling - chicken and bacon, plus the fact it was a traditional pie, fully encased in pastry. The pie was served accompanied by chive mashed potatoes, a good selection of vegetables, and plenty of rich gravy. Eileen went for the daily special, of roast lamb shoulder, served with roast courgettes and plenty of salad. I was particularly pleased with my pie, along with a quality pint of Harvey’s Best, to wash it down, all the while considering the proposed new regulations regarding drink-driving. I reflected that even a single pint may approach the legal limit, even though I did not perceive any noticeable effects.

The pub maintained a steady flow of customers without feeling overcrowded, although noticeable amongst them were several “ladies that lunch.” One woman seated behind us, had three quite lively dogs with her, plus a hubby with a non-speaking part, but the high temperatures, might not have been ideal for her canine companions. With her heightened sense of smell, Mrs PBT’s found the dogs a bit too “whiffy” for her liking, but sat with my back to the group, I personally didn't detect any odour – doggy, or otherwise.

We opted not to have dessert at the pub, as we planned instead to celebrate at home with some cakes from M & S. The store excelled itself on the pastry front, and once back at Bailey Towers, we enjoyed a couple of exceptionally rich éclairs filled with cream and chocolate. The generous layer of chocolate paired with thick cream made for a truly indulgent treat, momentarily setting aside any considerations of dieting.

Returning to the Ivy House for a moment, it was encouraging to see that the pub continues to thrive. It certainly remains a popular choice with Mrs PBT’s and her girly friends, and the group has already reserved a table for December. As the festive season approaches, our office manager has also been diligently searching for a venue for the company Christmas bash, and if the rumours are true, she’s selected a distinctive pub in Tunbridge Wells, close to the Pantiles that has recently reverted to its original name. All will be revealed nearer the time because the “C” word is the last thing I want to think about during the height of summer.

As for our wedding anniversary, Eileen and I tied the knot in 1985, which makes 40 years, and a celebration marked with a ruby. Doesn’t time fly!!

As the iconic beer is set to make a return, I take a look back at my first experiences of Boddington's Bitter

The sharp-eyed amongst you will soon realise that the article I’m about to run, and follow up on, is a month or so old now, but time doesn’t diminish a good story, especially one like this that appears to have come out of the blue. I imagine that the main protagonists behind this development will have been working on this project for some time, but whatever was going on behind the scenes, the news still came as a shock to us beer lovers, albeit a pleasant one. The story concerns Boddington’s Bitter, the beer marketed as the "Cream of Manchester" until its disappearance 13 years ago. Now, the good news for beer aficionados is that this legendary beer is set to return to pubs across the North West. It will be brewed and distributed by Manchester brewer JW Lees under licence from brand owner the Budweiser Brewing Group.

First brewed in 1778, this beer became a symbol of Manchester's spirit and Northern pride. It disappeared in cask form in 2012, but now a revised version of Boddington's Bitter, with an abv of 4.0 %, is due to reappear in pubs across the North West in December. Brian Perkins, president of AB InBev in Western Europe said: "We're excited to relaunch Boddington's Cask Ale in partnership with JW Lees, combining one of the UK's most iconic beer brands with one of its most respected brewers".

As stated earlier, this isn’t a new story, and it’s one that several other writers have already covered. As far as I am concerned, the best article by far about the return of Boddington’s, is this lengthy homage by Chris Dyson, whose excellent blog Real Ale, Real Music encompasses his love of good beer and good music. Chris doesn’t seem to have an “about me” page on his blog, although if he does, he keeps it well hidden, so if you’re reading this Chris, and I’ve got it wrong, then please let me know. Reading between the lines though, Chris is based somewhere in West Yorkshire. Of particular relevance to this article is the fact Chris was a student in Manchester, at around roughly the same time as me. He went up to Manchester University in 1974, a year after I started at neighbouring Salford University, in 1973.

What I find particularly fascinating is that we both report the same reaction to our first encounter with Boddington’s Bitter, Chris’s comments are here in his most recent post, The bees are back in town. For the uninitiated, the worker bee logo, has long been a symbol of Manchester, and an emblem of all that is good and positive about a town that claims to be Britain’s second city (a claim that is argued over with Birmingham).  Leaving city rivalries aside, as well as giving a detailed history of Boddington’s brewery, Chris’s article describes his first encounter with Boddington’s bitter. “A seismic moment, and life-changing event,” Chris had never tasted anything so bitter, and this had been my reaction, exactly a year earlier.

I wrote about my experience in an article for a pre-blog project, that never got off the ground. I have reproduced the piece below, because not only does it describe my first encounter with Boddington’s, it also details how I sought out the city’s most famous beer over the course of the four years that followed. These were years when I was still a student, living in the Greater Manchester area, and a period that only came to end when my then wife and I left the city for the bright lights, and better employment prospects of the nation’s capital.

Boddington's were arguably Manchester's favourite son and, certainly during the early days of CAMRA, were one of the darlings of the burgeoning Real Ale movement. The company was established in 1778 at Strangeways, Manchester and, in common with other local breweries, expanded gradually whilst at the same time gaining a reputation for the quality of its ales. Things continued in this vein until 1969, when Boddington's received an unwelcome takeover bid from Allied Breweries. Allied wished to increase their presence in Manchester, a city where they were not particularly well represented.

The takeover would have given them control of Boddington's 280 pubs, but they had reckoned without the resolve of the Boddington's board and the loyalty of local drinkers. The board decided to fight the takeover and sent out a letter to shareholders citing several "non-financial reasons" for opposing the bid. When Allied upped the price of their bid, the board again urged shareholders to reject it, a move which flew in the face of all financial wisdom, and which went against the general trend of what was happening in the brewing industry. Allied were forced to concede defeat when they announced that they had not picked up sufficient shares for the bid to go through, and local drinkers heaved a big sigh of relief.

The fact that Boddington's were successful, in thwarting this unwelcome bid, was largely due to the unwavering support of their shareholders who remained loyal to the company in spite of some very attractive profits which would have been realised if the bid had gone through. They were backed by a board, comprising chiefly of members of the Boddington family, who urged them to resist on the grounds of product quality, plus the loss to local drinkers that would have resulted from a successful bid from Allied. Additional support was also obtained from Whitbread, who had long held a stake in the Manchester company, and who had no wish to see a formidable rival "muscling in" on their territory. However, this support came at a price and led to Whitbread increasing their holding in the company. The ultimate cost of this support was very heavy indeed, as the Boddington's brewery and brands ended up being owned by Whitbread! 

 

My first introduction to Boddington's was in 1973, during my first term at Salford University. I had been recommended to try the beer by friend back home in Kent, who knew a lot more about beer than I did. (The only northern beer I was familiar with, prior to my arrival in Salford, was Newcastle Brown Ale!)  Boddington's wasn’t that easy to find. The bar in the students union sold only big brewery products, as did the type of pubs popular with students at the time. With no pub guides available to help me, it was sometime before I managed to track down Manchester's most famous brew. In order to do so it was necessary to venture further afield to the area known then as Salford Precinct. This was a concrete jungle of high-rise flats, erected during the previous decade as replacement housing for the notorious Salford slums. In the end these blocks turned out to be infinitely worse than the back-to-back terraces they replaced, but that's another story!

I don't remember the name of the pub, but it was a somewhat functional modern building. What I do remember is that when I first entered it, I thought that everyone was drinking lager!  It wasn't until I ordered my first pint, (dispensed inevitably from a metered electric pump), that I realised that the pale, straw coloured liquid, most of the clientele were drinking, was in fact Boddington's Bitter. Now here was a novelty, I had never come across a bitter with such a pale colour before. I took my first sip, and it nearly took the skin of the roof of my mouth - such was the degree of bitterness. To say that the beer was uncompromisingly bitter was an understatement, indeed after all those years I can still picture my reaction.

I had never tasted a beer that was quite as bitter (although I hadn't tasted Holts at that point!), and once my taste-buds had adjusted, I was hooked. I persevered and discovered, much to my amazement, that the taste was addictive, and in spite of my surroundings I ordered a further pint. It was straw-pale in colour and very well-hopped and at that time having been brought up on the more gentle bitters of south east England, had never tasted anything as bitter, and once my taste-buds had adjusted, I was hooked.

Over the following four and a half years, I regularly sought out Boddington's beers and discovered that the brewery also produced two milds, plus a strong ale - the latter being available during the winter months only. By this time, Boddington's had become something of a cult drink and the brewery, flushed with success, was extended, with new plant installed to cope with rising demand, together with plush new offices. As well as brewing good beer, the company also possessed some marvellous, unspoilt pubs. Most of these were the older style houses, as Boddington's tended to go for some characterless designs for their more modern pubs.

Towards the end of my stay in Manchester there were murmurings in both CAMRA and other circles that Boddington's bitter was becoming blander in taste. Certainly, to me, it seemed less bitter than the beer I had first tasted four years previously. The brewery strenuously denied these rumours, but a friend of a friend, who worked at the brewery as an electrician, reported that they were true, and that the hopping rate had indeed been reduced in order to make the beer “more acceptable to a wider audience.” By this time my friends and I had discovered the delights of Holt's Bitter - a truly bitter beer if ever there was one! Shortly afterwards I moved back south and, apart from occasional visits to Manchester, had few opportunities in which to sample Boddington's, or indeed any of the city's beers.

Footnote

There was quite a bit more copy associated with the original article, but in the main it concerns itself with Boddington’s fall from grace, how the company overstretched itself, and how it fell into the hands of Whitbread, the company that had been its saviour, back in 1969. I might, one day, allow the piece to see the light of day, even though with its descriptions of mergers, sell-offs and outright takeovers, it does represent all that was worse in the country’s brewing industry at the time.

For the time being though, we’ll leave it in the can, so to speak, but there is one more proviso concerning this blog post, and that is the lack of photos, contemporary or otherwise. There are a handful, lifted from a book published in 1978, celebrating 200 years of brewing at Strangeways – a book that I knew I had somewhere at home, and fortunately unearthed it earlier today (I've got umpteen brewery history books stashed away). There is also the odd library photo, but nothing personal that connects the brewery with me.