Moonlighting whilst contemplating a visit to Salzburg

Whilst having one of my regular sort-outs I found an old article I’d written, lying around at home. It’s about the lovely Austrian city of Salzburg; birthplace of  Mozart and the setting for a musical about how a singing nun became involved with a family of children. The article doesn’t mention these famous sons and daughters of the city; instead it mentions beer, so no surprises there, but before diving into the story, there’s a considerable amount of background to wade through, as to how and why I took the trip to Salzburg in the first place.

My visit took place at the tail end of 2006, and was my first proper visit to the city. Thirty years previously, whilst I was still student, a friend and I had passed through Salzburg by train, whilst undertaking a four week Inter-rail journey through western Europe. As we didn’t stop there on that occasion, it doesn’t really count as a visit, but I thought I’d mention it anyway, as what did matter is the trip in 2006 was just what I needed following a very stressful period of my life.

During the second half of that year, I was juggling two jobs, whilst at the same time struggling to sell a business. It was all getting too much; I was having trouble sleeping, finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate and feeling like I was at the end of my tether, so when Mrs PBT’s suggested I take a short break I jumped at the idea. The perfect window of opportunity opened up between Boxing Day and New Year, so my kind and caring wife booked the flights for me, whilst I found a suitable (cheap) hotel.

If any of you have read the biopic on the side of this blog, you may have noticed that,  in conjunction with my wife,  I once ran my own specialist beers, off-license.  We’d been trading around five years and whilst we weren’t exactly making a killing, the business was sufficient to pay me a wage so we could manage our bills and pay our way.

The downside was it involved being open long hours, seven days a week, with no time off for holidays or much time to ourselves.  We had only taken a six year lease, so we weren’t committed for too long, but even so, despite generally enjoying the work, I was wondering what  the future might bring, and what sort of retirement I could look forward to.

It came as something of a shock then when, out of the blue, I was offered a job back in industry, working in my old field of quality control. The offer came from a customer, who also happened to be a fellow CAMRA member, and came about whilst we were comparing careers and talking about mutual professional acquaintances at a CAMRA Christmas dinner. My companion asked me if I'd ever considered resuming my career in industry, as if I had, he reckonned his company could make good use of my skills and experince.

I mulled the offer over, but it didn’t take too long for me to decide. I concluded that whilst I would miss being my own boss, there were far more benefits to be had by accepting what was a very good offer. A regular monthly salary, considerably in excess of what I was drawing from the off-licence business, combined with paid annual leave, sickness and pension benefits far outweighed the relatively minor kudos which went with being the person in charge. What’s more the new position would be 8.30am – 5pm, Monday to Friday, so with no weekend or evening work my free time would be increased by several orders of magnitude.

After discussing the matter with my family, I took the job, but told my new employer that I would first need to dispose of the business, as it wouldn’t be a good idea running that alongside my new position. This proved easier said than done, as having put a considerable amount of effort into building the business up, I didn’t want to just walk away. If I did, not only would I be kissing goodbye to the profit and good will we’d accrued, but we also stood to lose a substantial amount of money.

This was because when you take out a lease on a commercial property, you are legally obliged to fulfil your all your obligations until the end of the agreement. Basically, if you decide to quit, you are still  obliged to continue paying rent on the property, along with any business rates. It therefore made scene to either re-assign the lease or, attempt to sell the business as a going concern.

The latter option made the most sense, certainly from a financial point of view, and with the business turning in a reasonable profit, I thought we’d have no trouble in selling it. Unfortunately  it was nowhere as easy as I’d thought, and with my new employer becoming increasingly eager for me to start, and more and more frustrated by me not providing a start date, I reluctantly decided I would somehow have to start in my new position, whilst continuing to run the off-licence during the evenings and weekends.

Whilst I could manage these extra hours, for a short period at least, I needed someone on the premises to take charge of deliveries and also place orders with our many suppliers. I managed to persuade a recently retired friend that he might like to supplement his pension, by acting as my manager, by looking after the shop over the relatively short lunchtime period from midday to 3pm.

So far so good, the only trouble was my friend wasn’t the most organised of people, so I ended up having to place the bulk of the orders. I made the necessary phone calls during my lunch hour, leaving my friend to look after the relatively quiet lunchtime trade, and get the stock priced-up and on the shelves.

I started in my new position mid-way through July 2006, and my first day was the Monday following the 2006 World Cup Final. I won’t go into much detail about my job as twelve years down the line, I’m still there. It wasn’t exactly plain-sailing to begin with, as I was thrown in at the deep end and had to start from scratch. What didn’t help was the fact that one particular, long-serving member of my new team thought that he should have been offered the position of departmental head, rather than it being handed to an upstart who just happened to be a friend of the General Manager.

As well as having to deal with this individual, I was also involved with trying to sell the off-licence business, so it was quite a stressful  period, all round. We employed a business sales agent, to market the shop to prospective buyers, and after a few false starts,  received and accepted a firm offer by the end of August.  Things seemed to be going well until the various solicitors involved, started throwing their weight around, and that’s where the fun and games started and the stress levels began to climb.

There were three sets of lawyers in total; ours, the buyers and finally the landlord’s, and it was the latter who proved the most obstructive. Leases should be relatively straight forward, but then so should house purchasing, but as we all know these  people have perfected the art of dragging things out, just to ensure the maximum return for themselves.  It was quite a complicated process, but eventually things started to slide into place, but with Christmas fast approaching, and the busiest time of the year upon us, we ran into trouble with the tenants in the flat above the shop.

I won’t go into detail, but I was concerned that the unreasonable behaviour of this young couple could end up scuppering the deal by putting off our buyers. Contracts had not been exchanged, largely due to our solicitor taking himself off to the ski-slopes for the whole of December (see why I hate the legal profession), and this was the reason for me wanting to take myself off somewhere during that lull between Christmas and New Year.

I’ll save the article about Salzburg for next time now, as I’ve dragged this introductory section out much further than I intended, but suffice to say we concluded the sale of the business during the first week of February 2007, and I was a free man at last.

My wife and I didn’t exactly come out as rich, but we didn’t lose out either; even after the solicitors and business sales agents had taken their cut. I’m not sure I’d run a business like that again, as whilst it allowed me to indulge in my passion for beer, it also robbed me of time which I could have spent with both family and friends.

Looking back it did teach me resilience, patience and determination, but most importantly it led me to my current and well-paid job. It also covered the expense of my trip to Salzburg – which was undertaken solely in the interests of “market research”.

Spa Valley Railway Beer & Cider Festival 2018

First no apologies for this unashamed publicity plug for my own CAMRA branch, whose beer festival, run in conjunction with local Heritage preservation group, the Spa Valley Railway, kicks off this Friday (19th October). The three day event runs until Sunday and will offer visitors a wide range of beers (both cask & Key-Keg) and ciders, at three separate locations along the seven mile length of preserved railway.

This is now the 8th festival, and the organisers claim it is bigger and better than previous events. You could argue that they would say that, but after last year’s festival there was a lot of soul-searching,  particularly in relation to issues of space, staffing and over-crowding, and a number of changes have been made.

I haven’t been involved with the organisation of this year’s event, but will no doubt find out whether the changes are working,  when I turn up to do my stint behind the bar on Saturday evening. The idea behind the festival is to encourage visitors to travel up and down the line where they can sample different beers at each of the three stations which constitute the Spa Valley Railway.

The main bulk of  the beers (and ciders), can be found in the Victorian Engine Shed, which acts as SVR’s headquarters. The shed was once part of the former Tunbridge Wells West station, but there will also be a range of beers at both Groombridge and Eridge stations.

The latter acts as an entry point for those travelling down to the festival by train, as Eridge station provides direct, cross-platform connections with Southern rail services from London Bridge, Croydon and Uckfield.

The organisers claim to have around 200  Real Ales, a figure which includes 25 Green Hop Ales. There will also be a craft beer bar featuring UK Keg & European Beers, plus over 30 Ciders. These bars are located in the engine shed, along with most of the real ales. I have just seen the beer list and have to say that it looks amazing.

The railway people will be operating a 50 minute interval service, with trains  running down to both Groombridge and Eridge Stations.

As mentioned previously, there will be beers on sale at those locations and on the trains themselves, but also included are:

• Trains to High Rocks, Groombridge & Eridge.
• Fullers Butcher BBQ.
• Thai Food Stand.
• Live Entertainment throughout the event at selected times.
• Ticket office, toilets and main departure point of train services.
• Station shop stocking a large variety of railway and children's products.
• Train travel from 17:30 is just £10, £5 for CAMRA and Spa Valley members on production of a valid membership card.

A potted history of the Spa Valley Line:

During the latter half of the 19th Century, Tunbridge Wells had two stations built by rival companies; Tunbridge Wells Central, opened in 1845 by the South Eastern Railway, which is now the sole mainline station, and Tunbridge Wells West, which was opened by the London Brighton & South Coast Railway in 1866. This former station is the headquarters of today’s Spa Valley Railway.

Around 1876, these two stations
were linked by a tunnel enabling connections between the London to Brighton and the London to Hastings lines. From Tunbridge Wells West there were direct services to the south coast at Brighton and Eastbourne and northbound  to London Victoria. Passing into the ownership of the Southern railway in 1923, the route became a very popular cross country link with over 100 trains passing a day.

During the latter half of the last century, as the popularity of the motor car as a means of travel increased, services started to be cut back, and many of the surrounding lines closed. For example Eridge to Hailsham branch (the Cuckoo Line) in 1965, East Grinstead to Groombridge in 1967, and then Uckfield to Lewes in 1969.

This left the remaining lines through Tunbridge Wells West both isolated and exposed. Finally, on 6th July 1985, the Tunbridge Wells to Eridge section closed. The depot at Tunbridge Wells West survived for another month and a few years later, the link to the mainline at Birchden Junction was finally removed.  A Sainsbury's superstore now occupies much of the site of the former West station, although the old  station building survives, and today houses a restaurant and hotel.

Shortly after closure, a preservation society was formed with the aim of restoring  train service on the railway, and after a herculean effort by local volunteers, the line was reopened through to Groombridge in August 1997.

Many improvements have been made since then including the introduction of new steam locomotives and rolling stock. In 2005, the railway marked the 20 years since the closure of the line by opening an extension just short of the former Birchden Junction, a further mile from Groombridge.

In mid 2007, after discussions with Network Rail,  work began on extending the line through to  Eridge.  Contractors were hired to restore the section of running line parallel to the mainline between Birchden Junction and Eridge, and after numerous delays and complications, the extension finally opened to the public in March 2011.


I appreciate this is rather short notice, but do try and come along if you can. Surely there can’t be many better ways of spending a fine autumn weekend than sampling a few of the excellent range of beers on offer at the festival, especially when there’s the added attraction of riding up and down this preserved line, through the glorious Kent and Sussex countryside which lies between Tunbridge Wells and Eridge.

Further details of the beers and ciders, opening times, train timetables and fares can be found by clicking here on the SVR website.

Walk of life

A year or so ago, I wrote a post about keeping fit with a particular emphasis on walking. I described a desire I had to walk the North Downs Way, seeing this as the logical follow on to the South Downs Way; a walk  I completed nearly 10 years ago. I  bought a guide and had it all mapped out in my head but, as is so often the case, life gets in the way of our dreams, and conspired to stop me - for this year at least!

Fortunately the North Downs Way was only a minor goal in the general scheme of things, and certainly in comparison to those I have achieved this year. The most notable of  achievements have been my visit to the United States, via Iceland, and once in North America, my Amtrak train journey across one third of the continent. (The ultimate goal is to complete the journey, travelling westwards from Chicago to the Pacific Coast, but that’s for several years in the future).

Back to the walking, where the main problem has not been lacking the will, but rather having insufficient annual leave left after taking two foreign holidays, one domestic  vacation and time off from work to help with Mrs PBT’s recuperation from a particularly nasty illness.

Fortunately, for both my levels of fitness and my sanity,  I work in a very pleasant rural location,  where there are ample opportunities to get out in the fresh air at lunchtime and enjoy a walk in the lovely Kent countryside. I’ve spent over 12 years in my current position, and virtually every weekday, come rain or shine, I’m out walking for between 35 and 40 minutes; a period of time  which still allows me to enjoy my sandwiches and a cup of tea, when I get back to my desk.

I said virtually every lunchtime, as there are the odd occasions when a visit to the pub intervenes – today being such an occasion. In addition, sometimes the weather is so inclement, that even I don’t venture out. I’m talking about torrential rain here, as I quite like walking in snow; even when it’s ankle deep!


It’s nice and relaxing and being outside allows any stress that has built up during the day, to disperse, but what I really enjoy about these walks is experiencing the changing of the seasons. Watching the newly born lambs skipping about on a cold, but bright late February afternoon, or seeing the snowdrops poking through the snow. Slightly later in the year, one can see the primroses coming into bloom on a south-facing bank.

I don’t see many bluebells whilst out walking, as my routes are almost exclusively through open countryside, although I do notice them on my drive in to work, as the road passes through a couple of areas of woodland.

Come August and September, there are plenty of blackberries amongst the hedgerows, so I'm often tempted to stop and pick a handful to eat on my way round. When winter comes upon us, the landscape takes on a much bleaker appearance, and on my usual route I can see across to the line of hills formed by the Greensand Ridge in the distance.

At this time of year, the wind really whistles across the most exposed part of my walk, especially when it is coming from the east. Then it is biting and cold, piling the snow up into drifts, and I am sometimes tempted to call in at the local pub; especially if I know they've got Larkin's Porter on tap.

I have a standard circular route, which I can add to if time allows, and I am not in a hurry to get back. I describe the walk as circular, but when viewed on a map, the route is more triangular in shape. The walks vary in length, from between 1.25 to 1.75 miles. I know this from the "Map my Walk App" which I have on my phone. The App also conveniently estimates the number of calories burned off during the walk, and these range from 200 - 300 Kcal.

Whichever direction I set off in, my route takes me across the old  Penshurst airfield; an airfield which was  in operation between 1916–36 and 1940–46. Although initially developed as a military airfield, after the First World War it was used as an alternate destination to Croydon Airport, with some civil flying taking place. The airfield closed following a fatal crash at an air display in 1936, and was converted to a polo ground.


It re-opened during the Second World War as an Emergency Landing Ground, RAF Penshurst. As well as serving in this role, it was mainly used by Air Observation squadrons of the RAF. The airfield finally closed in May 1946, but evidence of is former military role can be seen in the form of a couple of concrete pill boxes, built to guard its perimeter.

Today, the western boundary of the site is crossed by a handy tarmac path, which means my route is an all weather one, with no need to get my work shoes covered in mud. The latter is important, as whilst I could change into a pair of walking boots, for going cross-country, that would eat into my one hour lunch break.

There are some alternative routes that I walk, that do involve crossing fields or following footpaths, and these are obviously fine during the summer months, when there have  been spells of dry weather, but at other times of the year the footpath options are out of the question.

There is another route I sometimes take, which involves crossing the railway at nearby Penshurst station, and then following the road which leads to the station from the south. I can then either double back or, if I'm feeling brave/foolhardy, I can follow another road back up the hill to the village church. However, given the way that many motorists treat country roads as racetracks, I'm not a fan of the latter option. 

I mentioned earlier an addition to my normal route, and this involves a loop around the tiny hamlet of Charcott. The latter is home to the Greyhound pub, now lovingly restored following a lengthy period of uncertainty and indeed closure, and is the perfect place to call in for a pint, should I desire.

Not far from Charcott and the former Penshurst airfield, is another relic of conflict, this time from the Cold War, in the shape of a nuclear bunker. I'd been aware of the existence of  this structure, from a work colleague who live locally, but in January 2017, a group of us saw the bunker for ourselves, during  a walk to the Greyhound. 

We came across a volunteer who was carrying out some restoration work, and it turned out he belonged to a preservation group which had bought the bunker, when they were all sold off by the M.O.D at the end of the Cold War. I took a few photos, including one looking down the quite deep entrance shaft. I’m not sure that I fancied climbing down there, but as it happened, we weren’t offered the opportunity.

I realise I am fortunate to be able to undertake these sort of walks, in the middle of the working day, and accept I am doubly fortunate to work in such a pleasant rural location. I am not alone in doing these lunchtime walks, as several of my colleagues do the same thing, but as we all walk at a different pace, as well as setting off at different times, we tend to walk alone.

To me, this individual form of exercise is far preferable to the physical stretching and similar activities which employees at our Japanese parent company are "encouraged " to participate in at the start of the working day. Fortunately, I can't see it catching on over here!

A perfect storm?

Well we've had quite a spate of light-hearted, travel-related posts, highlighting idyllic parts of the British countryside, with just the odd snippet or two about pubs and beer, but with the holidays behind us now and the nights drawing in, it's time to get a lot more serious.  So where better to start than with an issue which is already having repercussions for a type of beer which is claimed to be the "pinnacle of the brewer's art".

I am talking of course, about cask-conditioned ale; the style of beer which is unique to Britain. With sales seemingly in decline, there are dark rumblings about the future of this unique style of beer, and with no real consensus as to what to do about it, let alone how to save it. the future is not looking good.

It can't have escaped the attention of those who care about beer that the recently published Cask Report (an annual review of the state of the cask-ale market), has highlighted a 6% fall in sales of cask.

Several prominent beer writers have picked up on this including Martyn Cornell (Zythophile), Pub Curmudgeon, Ben Nunn (Bon Viveur), and Tandleman and all have written posts on what may have caused this dramatic decline in casks' fortunes, and have put forward various suggestions as to how to turn this situation round.

Martyn Cornell asks the question, "Why after nearly 50 years after the birth of CAMRA, can't he get a decent pint in most pubs?". He suggests appointing "cask ale champions" to ensure quality standards are met, and also believes Cask Marque should implement accurate record keeping, so publicans can demonstrate just how long a particular cask has been on sale. Finally he wants to get the message across about the problems associated with stocking too many cask ales, as this is contributing to the quality problems which is one of the prime reasons for the drop in sales.

Pub Curmudgeon suggests that because hand pulls allow customers to instantly recognise cask beer, they also give them the chance to instantly reject it as well. His proposal is to mix up the cask with the keg, by putting it on the "T bar".

Benjamin Nunn asks the question, "Is cask ale going the way of vinyl?", and if so, would it not be better if it was promoted as a "niche" product? Whilst this could see cask disappearing from many main-stream pubs, it would at least ensure its survival in specialist outlets, which know how to keep the beer properly.

Tandleman conducted his own research into cask quality, by trying several pubs in an area he doesn't usually drink in. In the four pubs he visited, there was only one pint he'd describe as very good. This, coupled with regular visits to London, where he often comes across poor quality beer, reinforces his view that cask has a problem.

And this is where I come in, as Tandleman's findings closely mirror what I experienced during our recent trip to Norfolkand Yorkshire. It is becoming abundantly clear to many people that ordering a pint of cask ale has become something of a lottery; and an expensive lottery at that, given the price of a pint today.

If further proof were needed, take a look at Retired Martin's blog where Martin is reporting much the same in the many pubs he visits up and down the country. What makes this situation even worse, and potentially explosive, is the news that most of the pubs Martin visits are Good Beer Guide entries!

From where I see things, quality has always been the Achilles Heel of cask ale, and whilst its short comings can be mitigated by quick turnover and proper cellarmanship, the fact that cask-conditioned beer is reliant on being cared for by someone apart from the brewer, is asking for trouble.

So with cask sales seemingly in terminal decline, you may well ask what has been CAMRA's response to this news? Well if the October edition of  "What's Brewing", the Campaign's monthly newspaper is anything to go by, not a lot. CAMRA at present is pre-occupied with its campaign to save the nation's pubs.

In a way, I can see where CAMRA is coming from, as there is no future for cask (Real Ale) without pubs to stock and serve it. But equally, if CAMRA continues to ignore the quality issue inherent with cask ale, drinkers in pubs which the Campaign has managed to save, will continue to avoid it, and will switch to something more consistent and reliable.

CAMRA appears then to be caught in a cleft stick, but one would have thought that the drink which is the group's main raison d'être is worth fighting for. My membership of CAMRA stretches back over 40 years, during which I have witnessed various highs, as well as lows in the Campaign's fortunes, but I feel that the group has a real fight on its hands to try and rescue cask ale from oblivion, and the trouble is it doesn't seem to realise the problem exists.

There is a perfect storm heading cask ale's way, as the genre comes under pressure from all sides, but what makes things worse is the situation is being masked by the seemingly unstoppable rise in the number of new breweries coming on tap. With over 2.000 breweries in the UK, no neighbourhood is far from a brewery, so from CAMRA's viewpoint, everything in the garden is rosy.

With all these breweries fighting for space on the bar, and many CAMRA members on the look out for a new beer to "tick" or a new brewery to scoop, the temptation, when it comes to Good Beer Guide selection time,  is to pick pubs offering a wide selection of real ales, whist turning a blind eye to the obvious quality problems ensuing from stocking too many ales. This issue has been around for a long time, and whilst some branches are now belatedly addressing it, they are still the exception rather than the rule.

I'm not sure what is the best way of saving cask ale, because no matter what innovations are put in, its quality is ultimately linked to the person or persons who handle it in the pub cellar or serve it at the bar. Keg, or "container " beers, which are the default  option in virtually all areas of the world, apart from Britain, get round this problem because they are kept in, and dispensed, from a sealed containers. They therefore  receive virtually no exposure to oxygen and, more importantly, spoilage organisms which might be present in the air.

A couple of months ago, whilst I was visiting the United States for Beer Bloggers Conference in Virginia, I had several conversations about cask-conditioned ale with  some of the delegates. The universal response was that Americans just don't get "cask", with the reasons most often cited being it is flat and served too warm. During my travels I only came across two or three bars stocking cask, and wisely I wasn't foolish enough to try any of it.

Now I'm not advocating an abandonment of cask, in favour of keg, but perhaps the future of "real ale" does lie more in specialist outlets, which cater for that specific niche. Whilst this may have been Ben Viveur's perception of where the market is heading, and was where the comparison with vinyl came about, Ben was quite adamant that wasn't the destination he wanted to see for cask.

I too don't want to see cask disappear from mainstream pubs, but on the other hand, if the style is struggling to sell amongst a myriad of global lager brands, I would rather that the pubs concerned knock it on the head. In some cases "no cask is better than bad cask" - now where have we heard that sort of argument, before ?

The road to Bridlington

After a three night stopover in Bingley, it was time to head east and make for the Yorkshire coast. We had booked a night’s accommodation in the seaside town of Bridlington; a place none of us had been to before, but before we set off, a word or two about breakfast.  

The Premier Inn we stayed in was charging £9.75 for a full English breakfast, which Mrs PBT’s and I thought was rather steep. On the first two mornings, son Matthew had had other ideas, and had taken himself down to the attached Dalesway Brewer’s Fayre pub to eat his fill. He even managed to drag himself out of bed at a sensible hour in order to do so!

Matt informed us that for £9.75 you could help yourself to as much as you liked. Even so, that seemed like a poor deal – stuffing yourself silly just to get your “money’s worth” doesn’t seem a sensible option, so us parents decided to look elsewhere. A quick check on Google revealed that L&S Village Bakery, just down the road, offered a range of breakfast butties and other goodies to take away. The reviews were good too, so we jumped into the car and sped off, eager to grab a bite to eat.

We soon found the place, fronting onto the road, and with plenty of parking space outside. The fillings for the “butties” were cooked to order, so we both ordered bacon and sausage.  Once served we drove back to the hotel, parked outside and sat in the car eating our purchases, whilst waiting for young Matthew to appear. The bacon and sausage used for the filling, were plentiful, of a high standard and good value as well.

The quality and value of our breakfast “barm cakes”  - I know you mustn’t use that term east of the Pennines, persuaded our son to skip the Premier Inn’s breakfast offering on that final morning, which is why I before checking out, I nipped out early to pick up an order of breakfast butties for us all.

Suitably full, we checked out, loaded up the car, and set off for Yorkshire’s east coast. Mrs PBT’s had expressed her desire for a drive across the moors, and the technology obliged, as the Sat-Nav led us up a narrow road, more or less opposite the hotel, and straight up onto said moors.

It was a lovely sunny day and with hardly a cloud in the sky, the moors were looking their early autumnal best. The roads were narrow and winding, and fringed either side by dry-stone walls. I hadn’t seen such scenery since my student days in Manchester, when we would take a trip up into the Pennines.

Our route eventually took us onto some wider roads, and from what I could make out the navigation aid was taking us to the north of Bingley and then Bradford, whilst keeping us heading in an easterly direction. We skirted the town of Otley, before descending from the hills and onto roads which followed the river valley towards Tadcaster, and the Vale of York.

We skirted the latter and then took the A64 to the south of York, before turning onto the A166 which runs virtually all the way to Bridlington. We reached the village of Stamford Bridge, about five miles to the  east of York, where the bridge from which the village gets it name, crosses the River Derwent.

It looked a really attractive place and, had we not been in a queue of traffic, I would have pulled off the road and stopped for a look around. Writing this, I am now wishing we had pulled over, but we seemed to enter, and then leave Stamford Bridge so quickly, that all we got was a glimpse of the village square, tucked away just the other side of the bridge.

The family unfortunately were unaware of Stamford Bridge’s role in early English history, and of the famous battle which took place there on 25th September 1066. In this battle King Harold, repelled an invading Norwegian force led by his brother Tostig Godwinson  and King Harald Hardrada of Norway. This defeat of the Norwegian forces is said to mark the traditional end of the Viking era in Britain.

Harold’s victory was short lived, as just three weeks later, having marched his forces nearly 200 miles back to southern England, he was defeated at the Battle of Hastings, by an invasion force led by Duke William of Normandy.

https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/deed.en Oliver Dixon

One can only speculate as to how much two forced marches, in the space of a few weeks, contributed to Harold’s defeat, but either way the battle which took place at Stamford Bridge  had a major effect on the course of English history. Unfortunately, they don’t seem to teach this stuff in schools any more, as my family’s lack of knowledge about what happened at this quiet and quintessentially English village, showed only too well.

Moving steadily eastwards, we could see a line of hills looming in the distance. These were the Yorkshire Wolds; an area of gentle rolling hills and dry chalk-land valleys, which run from Filey in the north, to the Humber Estuary in the south. The road ascended the escarpment at Garrowby Hill and we then found ourselves driving through this pleasant and relatively unknown area of Yorkshire’s East Riding.

We turned off the A166 at the quaintly named village of Fridaythorpe, following what was signposted as a “Quieter route to Bridlington”. We arrived in the seaside town at around 2pm, which was just the right time to check into the Premier Inn, right on the seafront.

We grabbed a welcome coffee in the adjoining Cookhouse & Kitchen, before going for a stroll along the seafront. We walked down to the harbour, pausing to take in the view northwards along the coast, to the chalk cliffs of Flamborough Head. The harbour area was especially interesting as Bridlington is still a working fishing port, which claims to land one of the largest  quotas of shellfish in the UK.

Wife and son headed for the amusement arcades, for a bit of fun with the “Penny Falls” machines. They actually take 2p pieces, but for a couple of quid, you can have half hour or so worth's of amusement of trying to beat the machine, even though you inevitably lose.

Being out of season, the arcades closed at 5pm, much to Matthew’s annoyance, but with each of us, a pound or so lighter, it was time to grab something to eat. Jeromes Pavillion Bar & Café, right on the seafront, fitted the bill, and with views out to sea, it was the perfect place to enjoy our haddock and chips, complete with mushy peas, bread & butter and pot of tea.

Cheap and cheerful, and with a glass roof supported by cast-iron columns which looked as if they’d been rescued from an old railway station, it was very pleasant indeed. The food arrived hot, and freshly cooked, and although the place was fairly quiet, you could imagine it being packed out at the height of the summer season.

We took a drive up into the Old Town afterwards, but the family didn’t fancy getting out of the car. To be fair, it was getting dark, but I liked what I saw of this historic area of Bridlington, so much so that I was wishing we’d booked another night.

As it happened, that was out of the question, as BBC Radio 2 were hosting an All Star Party, at the Bridlington Spa the following evening, and accommodation in the town was either sold out, or astronomically priced. I made a mental note to return, at some future date (along with a visit to Stamford Bridge).

We finished our evening with a few beers at the Cookhouse & Kitchen. The hand-pulled Jennings Cumberland was on good form at 3.0 NBSS, but the pub itself was slightly lacking in atmosphere.

The following morning, we headed for home. Don’t ever travel on a Friday, unless you absolutely have to. According to the AA, the 245 mile journey should have taken four hours and 40 minutes. We left Bridlington just after 10am and finally arrived home at 6:15pm.

We did however, stop for something to eat at another American-style OK Diner. This was on the opposite carriageway of the A1, and quite a way further south than the one we called into on the outward journey. The menu and food were of the same high quality, so it made a very welcome break to what was a rather lengthy journey.

A significant milestone

There was something rather special  concerning my recent  post about Haworth; the one where I claimed we were avoiding all things Brontë. The item I am referring to, and the thing which makes the Brontë post special, isn’t glaringly obvious, and I must admit it slipped my attention, despite being vaguely aware of its approaching imminence.

I could keep you guessing for a while, but that would be unkind, so whilst I appreciate what I’m about to reveal, may not mean much to some people, it does to me; even though my realisation  of the event's significance only dawned on me yesterday.

So without further ado, I can reveal that the article posted on 27^th September, represents the 1,000^th article posted on Paul’s Beer & Travel Blog!

This is a real milestone for a blog which I started writing in my spare time, and the real exciting news is that next month will see a further milestone reached, as Paul’s Beer & Travel Blog will be celebrating its 10^th birthday.

There aren’t any photos to share from that initial November 2008 post, but the one at the top shows yours truly, in familiar pose, enjoying a well-earned beer.