Red Lion re-visited

So finally we come to the legendary establishment that is the Red Lion at Snargate; a pub whose fame and reputation has spread far beyond the quaint corner of south-east Kent which is Romney Marsh.

I have written two previous posts about the pub, the most recent of which was in 2016, following the sad passing of long-serving landlady, Doris Jemison. You can read that post here. The post before that was written in 2010, and looking back I realised that was the last time I'd visited the Red Lion. Fortunately last Saturday's trip to Romney Marsh allowed me to make amends, and I'm pleased to report that little has changed at this unspoilt gem.

Before going any further it is worth trotting out a few excuses for leaving such a lengthy gap between visits, but the truth is a wonderful pub like the Red Lion is not the sort of place to drive to, (for obvious reasons). Equally, because of its isolated situation, it is not somewhere which is readily served by public transport,. However, with a little forethought and slightly more effort, it is quite possible to enjoy more than a few pints in the Red Lion without getting behind the wheel and breaking the law.

The Marsh-Link rail-line runs from Ashford, across Romney Marsh, down to Rye and eventually on to Hastings. I have walked to the Red Lion from both Hamstreet and Appledore stations; across country from the former and along the road from the latter.

However, the 30 minutes walk, from Appledore station, along the busy B2080, is not particularly recommended as at times it requires quick-witted action to avoid speeding motorists who seem to regard the road as a race track. An OS Map though, will allow the keen walker to take the longer, but far safer scenic cross-country route from Hamstreet station.

The Red Lion features on CAMRA's National Inventory of unspoilt Heritage Pubs, and is believed to date back to 1540. However, unlike many old pubs of a similar age, the inside has not been modified leaving a series of inter-connecting rooms. The walls are decorated with a series of original World War II posters (none of your fake "Keep Calm and Carry On" tat here), and other memorabilia.

Although there is a set of three hand pumps on the marble bar top, they have not been used for many years. Instead all beers are served direct from casks stillaged behind the bar. Local beers feature prominently on the menu, with Maidstone brewer's Goacher's being a firm favourite.

There were two Goacher's beers available last Saturday; Dark Mild and Imperial Stout and I can personally vouch that both were in good form. Doris's daughter Kate and her partner were behind the bar, and were pleased to see us. They'd been expecting our party of course, but I think one or two of the regulars were a little taken aback by  what looked like an invasion.

We spread ourselves out though, with most people decamping to the largest of the pub's three rooms, which is at the front of the building. A small group of us stayed close to the bar, swapping tales of previous visits. A couple of decades ago, several MMK CAMRA members had been involved with a Dad's Army re-enactment group, known as the "Barmy Army Film Club", and because of its 1940's appearance, the Red Lion had been used as a setting for a couple of the period films the club produced.

Mrs PBT's and I had a small role in the second film, and I remember turning up at the Red Lion, in full Home Guard costume, on a freezing cold winter's morning, having diced with death after walking from Appledore station. A dozen or so of the cast met at the pub for a rendezvous with a film crew from London Weekend  Television (remember them?), to shoot a few period scenes with presenter Danny Baker, who was then a reporter on the station's Six O'Clock Show.

After recording interviews, inside the pub, with some of the principal cast members, filming was due to move outside. The TV company had gone to the trouble of hiring the period butcher's van which belonged to Corporal Jones in the Dad's Army series, and this was to feature us lot getting into the back, complete with our de-activated Lee Enfield rifles, and re-enacting the part of 1940's Home Guardsmen.  

Unfortunately the day chosen by LWT for the filming, was the day that Margaret Thatcher decided to step down as Prime Minister. This was obviously a far bigger story than a group of CAMRA members, dressing up as members of the Home Guard. Much to his annoyance, the TV company despatched a fast car to collect Danny Baker and whisk him back to London, where they wanted him out on the streets, interviewing people about their reaction to the Thatcher resignation story.

I won't repeat his exact words, but Danny Baker was not at all pleased that national events had overtaken the fun he was having sinking a few pints at the Red Lion with the Barmy Army Film Club, whilst preparing to go out "on manoeuvres".

That little episode took place in November 1990, but standing at the very same spot in the bar the other Saturday, I'm certain that little has changed at the Red Lion over the past 28 years.

Saturday's visit wasn't solely one of nostalgia, as with new licensees in charge at the Red Lion, albeit from the same family, there is much to look forward to. The pub's exterior has been given a new coat of paint, the outside Gents now was a Perspex roof so you don't get wet whilst taking a pee, and  there is now running hot water and an electric hand-dryer.

There aren't many other changes though, as apart from crisps and nuts, the Red Lion still doesn't serve food. Doris was always quite happy for people to sit in the games room and eat their own sandwiches and in summer time, there was always the sheltered garden behind the pub. I didn't check, but I imagine this arrangement is still pretty much the case.

I'd like to think that I've sold the appeal of this unspoilt gem to you, and if I have, you are probably wanting to make a visit. The easiest way of course, is to drive there, but unless you have a willing, non-drinking driver, or are prepared to strictly limit your consumption, this is  not something I'd recommend.

Providing the weather is fair, and the going underfoot good, then public transport is your best bet. The No. 11 Stagecoach service from Ashford, will drop you at Brenzett, but this still involves a walk along the busy the busy B2080, which I mentioned earlier.

My preferred option would be to take the Marsh-Link  train from Ashford, leave the train at Hamstreet, and then head south and west of the village towards Warehorne. You can then strike out in a roughly southerly direction, across the fields to Snargate. Make sure you've got a decent, large-scale map with you, as I've ended up getting lost before.

Whichever way you choose, I'm certain you will enjoy your visit to the Red Lion, and the step back in time which goes with it. Make the most of it though, because as far as I am aware, there are no obvious successors for when Kate and her partner decide to call it a day.

Last stop - Coldred

Sorry to disappoint those who were eagerly awaiting my write up of the Red Lion at Snargate, but I’m short of time at the moment; a combination of too much work and not enough play. But on the premise of make hay whilst the sun shines, I’ll take the extra work while it lasts.

The downside has meant not as much time for writing as I would like, so with this, and the above, in mind, here’s a short article about the Carpenter’s Arms at Coldred. This was the final pub of last Saturday’s tour, and it was a real surprise.

Most of us had never heard of Coldred, but for the record it’s a tiny village situated in a fold in the North Downs, a few miles to the north-west of Dover. With a population of just over 100 individuals and 55 dwellings. Its main claim to fame is the Grade 1 listed church of St Pancras, which dates back to Saxon times. There is also a duck pond opposite the pub, although as it was dark when we arrived, I don’t think any of us noticed it, despite the coach pulling up alongside.

The Carpenter’s has 18^th Century origins, but is a relatively anonymous-looking, white painted building. It is sited slightly below road level, meaning customers have to negotiate  a flight of internal steps in order to gain access. The pub has been in the same family for over 100 years, and with  its simple furniture and  plain décor, has remained largely unchanged for 50 years.

WhatPub states that the Carpenter’s is one of “CAMRA's Real Heritage Pubs”, but as the Pub Heritage website is still closed for maintenance (after several months of not being available), I am unable to verify this. A few of us were discussing  the pub’s status, last Saturday, whilst sitting in the plainly furnished left-hand bar, and we concluded that whilst the pub still has two bars, it has been knocked about a bit and “modernised” in a slightly insensitive way.

None of this should distract from the fact the Carpenter’s is a proper, old-fashioned pub, and a real find as far as most of us were concerned. As I mentioned earlier, it was dark when we arrived, and the one external photo I took, doesn’t do the place justice at all, but you should be able to get a feel for the pub from some of the internal shots.

The Carpenter’s is very much the village local, and the assortment of over-sized and misshapen vegetables, laid out in readiness on a long table in the right hand bar, indicated that a contest was to be held later that evening (probably once we’d left).

It was quite cosy in the pub, as with just under 30 in our party, and the pub regulars gathered for a pint, plus the eagerly awaited vegetable growing contest, space, and seats were at a premium, but we all managed to squeeze in and settled down to enjoy some good beer and some equally good conversation.

There was an extensive range of beers on sale, although probably too many for some followers of this blog. A couple of the beers were dispensed through a vintage set of beer engines reputed to be nearly 100 years old. I went straight in on the Gadd’s, as did several of my companions, as I think you have to go a long way to find finer beers than the well-crafted brews turned out by Eddie Gadd at the Ramsgate Brewery.

Gadd’s No. 5 really hit the spot, and came in at 3.5 NBSS, but there was also a slightly stronger offering from the company in the form of a dark beer, brewed to mark the 100^th anniversary of the ending of the Great War. The beer isn’t listed on the Ramsgate Brewery website, but I’ve a feeling it was a 4.5% brew, called War Horse. It was dispensed direct from a cask, perched up on the bar. Other beers included Rockin’ Robin Reliant and Tropic Fiesta from Beatnikz Republic (never heard of them!).

The Carpenter’s is only open evenings, so a visit using public transport is virtually impossible. A pity really, as there is a daily return bus service Monday to Saturday. However, given Coldred’s proximity to Dover (approx. 6 miles), a taxi for a group of three or four persons shouldn’t prove too expensive.

Alternatively, the pub is just under a mile and a half’s walk from Shepherdswell station so given its 5pm opening, it would be possible during the months of high summer, to spend a couple of hours at the Carpenter’s and still make it back to the station during the hours of daylight.

So for those who appreciate something a little quirky, and out of the ordinary, an evening visit to Coldred, by train and on foot is not only feasible, but highly recommended.

Romney Marsh - the bit in the middle

Last Saturday’s ride out, by vintage coach, to the flatlands of Romney Marsh and beyond was excellent. The sun shone all day, the four pubs we visited were all good, in their own right, and the company I shared the journey with was first class. The trip was organised by an old friend of mine, on behalf of Maidstone & Mid- Kent CAMRA.

As mentioned in my previous post, I used to be a member of that branch, and have kept in touch with various members over the years. The coach we travelled in was and no doubt was the height of luxury in its day, and still bore the legend, and paintwork, of its former owners, Camden Coaches of Sevenoaks. I managed to find a few photos of it on a bus enthusiast’s website, (yes all life is there somewhere on the net, if you know where to look for it), and it is an AEC  Reliance – if that means anything.

The coach picked me up, as planned and on time, from Headcorn station. There were 25 people on board, excluding me and the relief driver, and I couldn’t help noticing, as I made my was to a vacant seat, that some serious card playing was  taking place. I declined an offer  to join in, and instead settled down to enjoy the journey through Tenterden, Appledore and then down onto Romney Marsh itself.

We arrived at the Red Lion, Snargate 15 minutes before opening time, which gave people a chance to stretch their legs (the main contingent from Maidstone had been on the coach for nearly two hours), walk down the lane for a look at the 13^th Century church of St Dunstan, take a few photos or make use of the outside Gentleman’s "facilities".

Now I bet you’re all itching to know what the Red Lion was like, had it changed at all since the passing of long-saving landlady, or just what beers it had on. Well, I’m afraid you will just have to wait, as the Red Lion is worthy of its own write up. The same applies to the Carpenter’s Arms at Coldred, which was the final pub visited that day.

So after an hour and 15 minutes at the Red Lion enjoying a selection of gravity-served beers, and some good conversation, it was back on the bus and off to the Bell at Ivychurch. This was the second pub of the day and our scheduled lunch-stop. The journey through the winding lanes of the Marsh took just over 10 minutes, and we could see the pub, right in front of the 14^th Century parish church, as we approached the village.

Any pretensions I might have had about having visited the Bell before went out of the window, as I quickly realised that I had never set foot in the place until Saturday. The pub dates from the 16^th Century, but has a modern, flat-roofed extension on the far right of the building.

The proximity of pub and church harks back to medieval times, and for many the two form the perfect combination, but for us thirsty explorers it was beer, and food, that we were after. The Bell is surprisingly large inside, with a long single bar area. The bar counter is opposite the entrance, whilst the area to the left is given over largely to diners. There is a games area, housed in the modern extension, at the far right of the building. Pool and darts may be played there.

The pub still remains very much a village local, and there certainly seemed to be a few characters congregating around the bar, as we entered. With just a few days until that most unwelcome of American imports, the Bell was decorated with a distinct Halloween theme, as evidenced by the ornately carved pumpkins near the entrance, and the fireplace which was decked out in a similar fashion. 

The pub was expecting us, as the tour organiser had not only checked first, but had also taken orders for everyone’s main course and emailed their preferences through to the licensees. I was impressed by the way the pub staff  managed our party of 28, getting us all sat down at a number of reserved tables, and then bringing the food out on a table by table basis. Unfortunately the table I sat at was the last to be served, but when the food eventually arrived it proved well worth the wait.

Being a dedicated pie-man, I’d opted for the steak and Cheddar pie; an unusual combination which actually worked well. The cheese was present in the inner layer of the pastry, and complemented the tender steak filling. What’s more it was a “proper pie”, as the photo demonstrates.

There were four beers on tap; Adnam’s Broadside, St Austell Trelawney, a beer from Navigation Brewery, whose name escapes me, plus the dreaded Doom Bar. I started off with the Trelawney, but despite it being served in excellent condition, it wasn’t the beer for me. There was something about it which I couldn’t put my finger on, although I suspect it was down to the Galaxy hops, imported from Australia.

These impart a rather peachy flavour to the beer, which was not to my liking. I subsequently switched to the Broadside, which was  on top form. We left after paying for our food, and finishing our beer. I think it was around half three when we departed, and I thought it a nice gesture when the landlord came over and thanked us individually for our custom, as we made our way out.

It was then back on the coach for the half hour journey to Hythe. For me, the route was pure nostalgia because, as children, my sister and I were regular visitors to Romney Marsh, in the company of our parents, on family trips to the seaside. So as the coach made its way into New Romney, and then along the coast to St Mary’s Bay and Dymchurch, the memories came flooding back. The road eventually leads into Hythe, after first skirting the extensive MOD firing ranges to the south-west of the town.

Hythe itself, is a pleasant little town, and was one of the original Cinque Ports. Looking at Hythe today, it’s difficult to believe that the town was once a bustling seaport, but over the years the harbour gradually silted up, depriving the townsfolk of their livelihood.  Traces of the original haven can still be seen at the northern end of the Royal Military Canal, at Seabrook, where it reaches the coast.

We were making for a tiny corner pub called the Three Mariners, close to the canal which was originally constructed during the Napoleonic Wars, as part of fortifications designed to repel a potential invasion. The pub is a pleasant back street local, with a roaring fire during winter (it was lit on Saturday), good beer, two distinct rooms, friendly staff and a good feel to it. It is also dog friendly.

While most of our party piled into the left hand bar, a small group of us opted for the other bar, where we even managed to grab a table. The beer offering was Adnam’s Lighthouse, Old Dairy Blue Top and Young’s Bitter. I went for the Blue Top, as I am a big fan of Old Dairy beers. I was also pacing myself at this stage of the proceedings, so just stuck with the one pint.

The sun was beginning to set as we left the pub for our final stop of the day. This was to be the Carpenter’s Arms, in the tiny village of Coldred, tucked away on the North Downs to the north-west of Dover. The first part of the journey was another nostalgia trip for me, as the coach headed out of Hythe, through Seabrook and towards Sandgate.

The sea looked as calm as a millpond, as we drove along the front, before heading up the hill into Folkestone. This route  through Hythe was always my father’s preferred option on trips to Folkestone; rather than the more direct A20. I used to wonder why as a child, but with the wisdom of maturity I can understand why he and my mother always opted for the scenic route, with its views of the sea.

We skirted through the back of Folkestone and picked up the M20 towards Dover, turning off before reaching the town, and into unknown territory. It was getting dark as our coach turned into Coldred, but for the moment, this is where the narrative ends because, as mentioned towards the beginning of this post, you will have to wait until next time to find out what this “time-warp” pub was actually like.

All aboard for Romney Marsh

I'm banking on this weekend being rather more relaxing than the last one. That saw me joining around 700,000 of my fellow citizens on a march through central London, in support of a People’s Vote on any final Brexit deal.

The event ended up at Parliament Square and after listening to a number of rousing and passionate speeches, I jumped on a train to Tunbridge Wells, and spent the evening working a shift behind the bar at the very busy, and well-attended, Spa Valley Railway Beer Festival. Boy was I knackered the following day.

On Saturday, I’m meeting up with members of Maidstone & Mid-Kent CAMRA, for a trip, by vintage bus, to Romney Marsh, before moving on to the charming little town of Hythe. MMK are the neighbouring branch to my own West Kent group, and I know quite a few of their members following joint socials over the years, along with the fact that I lived in the county town from 1978 - 1984. I’ve also been on several trips to foreign parts with a group of them; notably to the Czech Republic the Rhineland and Franconia.

I’ll be joining the bus at Headcorn, which is an easy train journey for me, but I’m not quite sure yet where I’ll be dropped off on the way home. (I’ll worry about that when the time comes!). First port of call is the unspoilt and National Inventory listed, Red Lion at Snargate, aka "Doris’s".

The pub's nickname comes from it former, legendary landlady, Doris Jemison, who sadly passed away in April 2016. The Red Lion is now run by Doris's daughter Kate, and her partner. The pub is believed to date back to 1540, but unlike many old inns of a similar age, the inside has not been modified and still has a series of inter-connecting rooms. It has been run by the Jemison family since 1911 and, except for the odd lick of paint, has not been redecorated since 1890.

It's ages since I last visited this time-warp pub, as it's not the sort of place to drive to, (for obvious reasons), but equally it is not somewhere which is readily served by public transport, because of its isolated situation. Saturday's bus trip should solve these transport problems and allow me to see what changes, if any, have been made to the Red Lion.

Our party will then move on to the Bell Inn at Ivychurch, another tucked-away village on Romney Marsh. I'm pretty certain that I have never set foot in this 16th Century inn, which lies in the shadow of the parish church. This is despite having grown up just outside the nearby town of Ashford. 

The Bell is a free house and was Ashford & Shepway CAMRA's pub of the year in 2016. It has a good reputation for food, which is just as well as we will be stopping there for a pre-booked lunch, as well as beer. The Bell is reputed to have been a smugglers' haunt, but then most pubs on Romney Marsh make similar claims.

The next stop takes us to the small town of Hythe and to the Three Mariners, which is situated close to the Royal Military Canal. A visit to this attractive, corner pub will be another first for me, as whilst I remember driving past the place with my parents when I was a child, I have never set foot in this traditional, side-street local.

With no food available Three Mariners relies on the quality and variety of its cask ales and ciders to attract customers.  The pub still has two bars where patrons can enjoy their drinks, and I have to say I am particularly looking forward to us stopping off there.

The final pub on the tour is way "off piste", as the bus will be taking us to the tiny village of Coldred, which lies to the north-west of Dover. This is real unknown territory for me, although looking at the map, I see that my friends and I passed quite close to the village last summer, when we walking a section of the North Downs Way.

We will be stopping at the Carpenter's Arms, an unspoilt, two room, 18th Century pub overlooking the village green and duckpond. This is another pub which features on CAMRA's Nastional Inventory of Heritage Pubs. The Carpenter's has  been in the same family for over 100 years, and its decor and furniture are said to have remained largely unchanged for the past 50 years.

It is described as a community pub plus a place for conversation and good fellowship. It sounds a pretty good pub to finish up at, and a full report, along with photos, will follow in due course.

Seeking solace in Salzburg

Following the rather lengthy, but quite necessary scene-setting of my last post, it’s straight off to the charming Austrian city of Salzburg for a quick round-up of what Mozart’s birthplace has to offer the beer-loving tourist.

My flight to Salzburg departed on Boxing Day afternoon, and with no trains running I had to  drive myself to the airport. This meant my Christmas Day alcohol intake was rather modest; certainly when compared against a normal Christmas, but I made up for it once I touched down in Austria.

I was disappointed not to see any snow on the ground when we landed; although I had noticed a covering on the tops of the mountains as the plane made its final approach. However, despite the lack of the white-stuff, the temperature was considerably colder than the damp and cloudy England I had left behind.

Salzburg airport is small, pleasant and compact, and it is also close to the city, so I jumped on a bus for the short ride to central Salzburg, alighting at the main railway station. From there it was a 15 minute walk to my hotel, although it did take me slightly longer to find my accommodation, after mis-reading my map.

I decided to stay close to the hotel for my first night, and the PitterKeller, just a block away from where I was staying, suited my purposes perfectly. As the name suggests, the Keller was sited slightly below street level, its beamed ceiling and part wood-panelled walls serving to reinforce the claim of Salzburg's oldest beer cellar.

Being Boxing Day evening, the Keller was fairly quiet, so I had no difficulty in finding a table. I ordered myself a mug of Helles, brewed by Privatbrauerei Wieninger, who are based just over the border with Bavaria, in Teisendorf. The beer was cool, refreshing and tasty, and I ordered a Schnitzel with parsley potatoes to go accompany it.

There was something about just being there, in the peaceful and relaxing surroundings of the Keller, miles away, both physically and mentally from the stresses which had built up over the course of the previous six months. As I finished my meal and ordered another beer, I felt felt a deep wave of contentment wash over me as the stresses, cares and concerns associated with the craziness of holding down two very different and demanding jobs, literally just melted away.

I slept really well that night, far better than I'd done for a long time. After waking refreshed and relaxed the following morning, I set out, on foot, to explore the city, but not before I had devoured a hearty breakfast. I made my way across the Salzach river,  to the impressive Festung Hohensalzburg; a massive and well-preserved former fortress perched on top of a large rocky outcrop that dominates the city and overlooks it from a height of 540 feet.

I could have taken the funicular railway which runs up to the fortress, but instead chose to walk up the steep slopes and climb the hundreds of steps which to the top. It seemed a good way to work off some of the excesses of Christmas over-indulgence. The climb was certainly well worth the effort, as the fortress at close quarters was even more more impressive than it had looked from city below.

The Festung Hohensalzburg is claimed to be the largest fully preserved castle in Central Europe, and doesn't disappoint in this respect. originally constructed by the Prince Bishops who once ruled over Salzburg, the fortress has been added to over several centuries. Inside there are state apartments and a banqueting hall, plus rooms given over to various exhibits. The display I saw related to the Alpine Front from the First World War, when troops from Austria were engaged in a series of campaigns against the Italians - their southern neighbours.

I walked back down into the Altstadt, looking for a place to eat, and also somewhere to warm up in. The Stiegl Keller I'd earmarked earlier was closed, so I crossed the bridge into the Neustadt and found a welcome refuge from the cold at Gablerbräu. The notes I made at the time record that I had sausages (Wurst) and chips, plus a couple of beers. Gablerbräu underwent a major revamp, in 2013 and now brews its own range of beers, but I'm not sure what I drank on that initial visit.

That evening I set off in the rapidly fading daylight and the increasingly cold air to find the what was the undoubted highlight of the trip. Augustinerbräu Kloster Mülln is a brewery and beer hall attached to a monastery, not far from the centre of Salzburg, and is legendary amongst lovers of good beer. It was a short walk from my hotel down to the river Salzach, which I crossed by means of a footbridge. It was then a case of following the road along the riverbank until the floodlit exterior of the monastery church, perched on the edge of the Monchsberg hill, came into view.

The entrance to the Bräustübl is through a large, anonymous-looking wooden door, where a flight of steep stone steps leads down into the heart of the building. This then opens into a long tiled passage where there are a number of kiosks selling a variety of hot or cold food to accompany the beer. Alternatively you can bring in your own picnic, as many of the locals do.

There are three large, cavernous beer halls, plus a number of smaller, more intimate rooms that are available for private hire. For the summer months there is a large, shaded beer garden to the rear. The main attraction is of course the beer which is served direct from large wooden casks. A full-bodied lager, known as Märzen  with an ABV of 4.6%  is brewed all year round, whilst from November through to Christmas a stronger Weinachtsbock (Christmas Bock) at 6.5% ABV is produced.

The entire stock of the festive beer had unfortunately sold out, so I had to make do with the Märzen. This was a well hopped, malty and satisfying beer, but unfortunately, as it is served in stoneware mugs, it is impossible to see what colour it is. On the plus side, being served straight from a wooden cask, there is no excess gas to bloat one’s stomach, and the beer slips down a treat. It was so good that I sank four half litre mugs over the course of the evening!

There is a bit of a ritual involved  in order to obtain a beer, and it means a visit to the serving area just round the corner from where the food kiosks are situated. You then help yourself to one of the stoneware mugs (litre or half litre) laid out on a series of wooden shelves. You then need to rinse the mug at a rather ornate marble fountain before queuing up and paying the person sitting behind a glass screen.

In exchange for your money you are given a ticket, which you  hand to the person dispensing the beer who will  fill your mug with beer before sliding it back to you across a perforated metal counter. You then have a choice of beer hall in which to sit and enjoy your beer. When you want a refill you simply take your mug back to the central kiosk, pausing perhaps to rinse it clean at the fountain, before repeating the process.

I tried all three different beer halls during the two visits I made to the Augustinerbräu Bräustübl on that trip, but preferred the non-smoking one to the left of the serving area. As it was still relatively early in the evening there were plenty of wooden tables to sit at. What I especially liked was that Augustinerbräu appeared popular with people from all walks of life and also from all age groups. Groups of young people were just as eagerly getting stuck into their mugs of beer as their older counterparts.

There was a  thick frost covering the ground, as I made my way back to the hotel, my way lit by the moon and the many stars shining through the crispness of the sub-zero night. The temperature was cold enough to make my eyes water and take my breath away, but with all that beer inside me, the rest of me felt quite warm!

After breakfast the following morning I walked back into town via the gardens of Schloss Mirabelle. These featured in the film version of the Sound of Music, forming the backdrop for Maria and the Von Trapp children to dance around whilst singing. The gardens though, are much smaller than they appear on the big screen.I then caught a bus to Bräuwelt - a brewery museum and beer "experience" housed in the former maltings attached to the Stiegl Brewery, on the edge of the city.

Stiegl are the largest and best known brewery in Salzburg, and whilst Bräuwelt is billed as Europe's largest "Beer Exhibition",  I have visited much better laid out, and more informative brewery museums elsewhere. It was pleasant enough though, and my admission ticket included a couple of glasses of beer, plus a hot pretzel. I enjoyed the brewery's Paracelus Naturtrüb - unfiltered beer, plus their Christmas Weinachtsbier, before catching the bus back into central Salzburg. 

After a spot of shopping for a present or two for the family, I crossed the river back into the old town and found a very nice place to eat, just off the Getreidegasse. I have been trying to find this restaurant on a map of Salzburg, so far without success but suffice to say I enjoyed a really good meal of roast potatoes with diced chicken, bacon and onions served up in a cast-iron pan. I ordered a mug of Kaiser Pils (brewery unknown), to go with my meal.

It goes without saying that I made my way back up to Augustinerbräu afterwards; my experience being much the same as the previous evening. According to the notes I made at the time, I only had three mugs that evening, but the beer was still as tasty as the night before.

This was my last evening in Salzburg as I had to fly back to England the following day to try and kick-start the stalled sale of our business.  I was glad to have chosen Salzburg as my bolt-hole as it is person-sized with a touch of class about it. The trip was everything I wanted it to be,  providing a place to escape to, where I could relax, unwind and re-emerge energised and ready to face the music.

I have made two subsequent visits to Salzburg, which I have written about previously, but if you are thinking of going, either for business or pleasure,  a visit to Augustinerbräu Kloster Mülln is a must. Not only is the Bräustübl tavern the largest in Austria, it is also one of the finest and most traditional of beer halls anywhere in the world!

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”.