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.