The porter at the Castle gate

I managed to track down some more Larkin’s Porter on Friday lunchtime, a find which represented only my second sampling this season of this excellent beer.

I broke with my usual lunchtime regime of  a brisk walk, and considering the appalling weather which hit the south-east today, I certainly made the right choice. However, Storm Erik was not the reason for my break of routine, as I’d already made my mind up to go off and find some of this difficult to locate seasonal beer from Larkin’s, and my plan was to phone around a few local (to my workplace), pubs where I thought there was a good possibility of them stocking the beer.

I struck gold with my first phone call, when the Castle Inn at Chiddingstone confirmed the availability of the porter. I jokingly asked the recipient of my call to reserve me a pint, and come lunchtime, I jumped into my car and set off to drive the short distance over to Chiddingstone village.

Just leaving the factory, and getting hit by a deluge of rain, was enough to prove I had made the right choice, and just over  five minutes later, I was pulling in to the tiny National Trust-owned village of Chiddingstone. Parking has always been something of an issue in a settlement which has remained largely unchanged since it was sold to the Trust during the 1930’s, but I managed to find a place just past the village church.

I then walked briskly down toward the pub, taking advantage of a brief lull in the rain, to stop and take a few photos. The Castle Inn lies at the far end of Chiddingstone’s main street, adjacent to the entrance to the stately pile which calls itself a castle.

I made for the Public Bar, which is housed in the right-hand portion of the pub. I entered the bar and was immediately struck with the sensation of having travelled back in time. I spotted the pump-clip for Larkin’s Porter, and after breathing a sign of relief, ordered myself a pint.

The barman asked if I was the gentleman who’d phoned earlier. I confirmed that indeed I was before he disappeared into the other bar to pull my pint. He placed it on the bar, jet black in colour and topped with a fluffy, off-white head. It looked delectable, and as I handed over my cash I couldn’t wait to raise it to my lips.

The biggest and most pleasant surprise though was the price, a very reasonable £3.60! Under previous ownership the Castle had a reputation for being an expensive place to drink in; something to do with being an upmarket pub in a National Trust village, so paying under four quid for a 5.2% ABV beer was a real revelation.

I sat down at a table opposite the fireplace, my eye drawn to the log burner which was blazing away nicely. The beer was in fine form and I scored it at 3.0 NBSS. It slipped down a treat, but at that strength, and with a busy afternoon ahead – plus the driving, of course, I sensibly stuck to just the one. I needed to be back by 2 pm anyway, as one thing about my workplace is no-one is ever late back from lunch.

I couldn’t see through to the Saloon, but there were just two other people in the Public, a mature couple, sitting at a high “posing table". From their conversation they were locals from the village and when one of the bar staff brought their food out, I admit to being slightly envious, as the lamb shank in particular looked rather good.

The pub cat who’d been hanging around my table, made a beeline for the couple as soon as their food arrived, but its foray didn’t last long as the barman walked over, picked it up and took it out the back. This may have been because the woman had said she was a dog person, rather than a cat lover.

The barman explained to us that this cat was a roving moggy, probably belonging to someone in the village, before having made itself at home in the Castle. Its favourite place, apparently was a bench, close to a radiator in the other bar.

So for a Friday lunchtime, the pub was pretty quiet, but with Storm Erik raging outside I wasn’t surprised. Having said that, on a wild, wet and windy early February day, tucked up close to the fire, with a pint of Larkin’s Porter in front of me, I can’t really think of a much better place to be.

One final thing I couldn’t help but notice was some snippets of conversation between the two blokes behind the bar. It was evident that at least one of them was from the Castle’s sister pub; the Wheatsheaf at Bough Beech. Both establishments are owned by a local businessman who I understand  has connections with Westerham Brewery. Beers from the latter are on sale at both pubs, and it would appear from what I witnessed that staff also rotate between the two hostelries. 

From a personal point of view, it is good to see the Castle open and trading again, after a prolonged period of closure, and I’m sure that had I visited when the weather was more clement, I would have seen a lot more customers. I fully expect therefore, that come spring, when the coaches and tourists are out in force, the Castle will once again be bustling.

Grab it whilst you can

Not that I think the Asahi takeover of Fuller’s will make the slightest difference to the  taste of the beers (certainly not in the short term), but I have nevertheless taken the opportunity to stock up on what I regard as one of the best beers to come out of the Chiswick brewery.

Waitrose are currently running a promotion on selected Fuller’s brands, one of which is the delectable London Porter. At three bottles for just £5.00 I took full advantage, and whilst not quite filling my trolley, I now have sufficient porter to see me through what’s left of the winter months.

ESB and Honey Dew are also included in the promotion, but not 1845 or Bengal Lancer. Speaking of the latter, I haven’t seen it around recently. Nothing to do with the Ashai buy-out, as it’s been absent from both Waitrose and Sainsbury’s for quite some time.

Briefly, and whilst on the subject of discounts and supermarkets, you rarely see Sainsbury’s running a promotion on beer, except at Christmas, whereas both Asda and Waitrose often have some really good offers. I appreciate this doesn’t help the pub trade, but for the stay-at-home drinker, these deals are very attractive.

Well that first bottle of London Porter should be at just the right temperature for drinking. Lightly chilled but definitely not too cold, so if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to crack one open!

The Honingham Buck

Like virtually all beer lovers, whenever I go away, I always like to find a decent pub or bar. After checking into your hotel, apartment or guest house, there’s something both special and exciting about going out for that first evening stroll, eager to discover what your new location has to offer, especially when it comes to discovering somewhere a bit special, where you can enjoy a few beers.

This has been my "modus operandi" every time I go away, but to make virtually certain that that first pub or bar in  new town or city is all that I wish for, I normally do a spot of research first. That way I am seldom disappointed, and it is here that publications like the Good Beer Guide, or its international equivalent, comes into its own.

So does a quick trip up to Norfolk, accompanied by one’s nearest and dearest, still qualify for such pre-planning? Answer, of course it does, perhaps even more so when time is limited and you’re attempting to squeeze in as much as possible.

Now I don’t have a current Good Beer Guide, at least in paper form, but I do have CAMRA’s inter-active Good Beer Guide App on my phone, and whilst I didn’t manage to find anything to spark my interest when I looked at home, the “Search by location” feature really came into its own once we were settled into our hotel, on the western fringes of Norwich.

The pub which came up was the Honingham Buck, an attractive looking pub in the heart of the village of Honingham, and Google Maps indicated that it was just six minutes drive from where we were staying. We went and checked it out on the drive over to see dad, primarily so I could get a few decent photos of the exterior, during the hours of daylight. The Buck is a traditional long, low building with a white-painted, rendered exterior and the sort of red pantiled roof which is so typical of this part of the country. We didn’t venture inside but, liking what we saw, took the decision to return that evening.

Now it has to be said that Mrs PBT’s isn’t much of a pub person, and reminded me of this as we walked from the car park to the entrance at the front of the pub. “I’m surprised we ever got married,” was another pearl of wisdom, as we approached the door, conveniently forgetting that opposites attract. How else would you explain over 30 years of togetherness?

Once inside, we quickly noticed that the Buck has been lovingly restored and sensitively modernised to a high standard, so that it still retains the feel of a traditional village local. There are slate floors, oak beams and stylish furniture, plus a new bar. A separate restaurant area and large garden complete the package. This work was carried out by Lacons Brewery of Great Yarmouth, when they acquired the pub in 2015; the Buck being the company’s first tied house in over 50 years.

Given the wintry weather outside, it was heartening to find a welcoming fire, blazing away in the wood-burner, but it was radiating so much heat that we chose to sit well way from it. When we arrived, there was just the one solitary drinker sat at the bar. I don’t wish to stereotype, but we couldn’t help noticing, over the course of our relatively short stay, that this customer  sounded very much like the pub bore. The barman certainly seemed glad when a party of women entered, complete with suitcases. They had booked rooms for the night, and after being shown to their accommodation, the ladies returned for a drink as well as taking the inevitable “selfies”.

We were sat in the adjoining restaurant section, but I could see through into the main bar area, where the pub bore was offering his expert opinion on log burners and the best type of wood to burn. The visitors ignored him, too wrapped up in their own conversation and sharing photos on their phones.

We had already looked at the menu online, back at the hotel, and had taken the decision not to eat at the Buck. There was anything wrong with the food offering, but it did seem a little upmarket from the pub-grub we were looking for. Also my non-pub-going wife had taken a fancy to one or two of the offerings back at Table Table, next to the Premier Inn.

As mentioned above, the Honingham Buck is a Lacons tied house, and three of the company’s cask beers were available on Saturday evening. I opted for the 4.0% ABV Legacy, a well-hopped blonde ale and one that I have enjoyed on previous visits to East Anglia. Also available was the slightly weaker Encore, a 3.8% ABV amber ale, plus a seasonal beer whose name escapes me.

We didn’t stay too long, as Mrs PBT’s was getting hungry. I made a note to return on future trips to Norfolk, and also to look into the possibility of staying the night  there.

Footnote: Lacons Brewery was founded in 1760, and was based in the seaside town of Great Yarmouth. The brewery developed into quite a sizable concern over the years, and in 1952, the directors decided to float the company on the stock market.

This attracted the attention of Whitbread, who bought Lacons for £3.2 million in 1965. Three years later, Whitbread decided to shut down the brewery, bringing to an end, over 200 years of brewing in the town. The Lacons story could have ended there, but in 2009 Mick Carver and Trevor Hourican of JV Trading, a drinks distributor based in Lowestoft, started working to secure the rights to the Lacons name and bring brewing back to Great Yarmouth.

After acquiring suitable premises in the town, Lacons was re-launched in May 2013. The beers are brewed suing the original Lacons’ yeast, a sample of which had been deposited in 1957, at the Norwich-based National Collection of Yeast Cultures, as a backup in case their own cultures got contaminated. 

Initially, the brewery concentrated on producing three new permanent beers both bottled and draught as well as introducing some seasonal beers. The company has extended the beer range to include some original Lacons recipes, in its heritage range. These beers are modern interpretations of historic recipes, dating back to the beginning of the last century.

A brief visit to Norfolk

After a rather hectic January, it was nice to get away to get away for a long weekend and travel up to Norfolk, for the chance to visit my ageing father. I felt bad not having seen him since the autumn, but with his Alzheimer’s becoming gradually worse it’s unlikely that he remembered yesterdays’ visit. As I’ve said before, my sisters and I are just relieved that he seems content in himself,  is being well cared for and doesn’t want for anything.

The other reason for us going away is we are having a complete bathroom re-fit, and our absence allowed the builder some additional time to crack on, without having to work around us. It was also good from our point of view to have unfettered access to proper washing facilities; something which hasn’t been easy these past few days.

I took Friday afternoon off  from work, and after collecting Mrs PBT’s from her workplace, we headed off in the direction of East Anglia, following the well-worn route of M25, M11, A11 and A47. There was the usual shenanigans at the Dartford Crossing, with  traffic virtually at a standstill from the junction with the A2 to the crossing itself, but once through the tunnel, we made good progress, despite the large number of lorries on the road.

If proof were needed of the huge amount of freight being moved by road, and the gridlock which even the smallest of delays for extra custom checks will cause, then this was it. Government ministers and their lackeys are probably isolated from this though, so they remain in blissful ignorance, whilst ignoring it at their peril.

We encountered the odd snow flurry as we passed from Essex into Cambridgeshire, but it was nothing like the amount that had blanketed Kent in the early hours of Friday morning. We eventually arrived at  our home for the next two nights, the Norwich West, Premier Inn, adjacent to the Norfolk Showground.

As Mrs PBT’s says, you know what you are getting with a Premier Inn, unlike some of the places I have taken her to in the past; something she never seems to tire of reminding me about. Mind you the motel in Ilford we stayed at back in the mid 1980’s, following a friend’s wedding, really did take some beating for seediness.

My excuse that the groom had booked it on behalf of several of the wedding guests, didn’t cut it either, so whilst I have never minded “roughing it” myself, I have always been a lot more circumspect when my beloved is in tow!

I stayed at the Norwich West, Premier Inn several Christmases ago, on one of my last visits to see mum and dad, before their health and life situation took a turn for the worse. The icy weather was similar on that occasion too, so on the first evening we decided not to venture far, settling instead for the pub-cum-restaurant adjacent to the hotel. Table Table is a brand of restaurants set up by Whitbread in 2008; the majority of the outlets having been converted from Brewers Fayres.

The hotel was busy, due to an antique and collectors fair taking place over the course of the weekend at the Norfolk Showground opposite, so I was glad at my wife’s foresight of booking us a table, when we checked in. We perused the menu from the warmth of our room before heading down to the imaginatively-named, “Showground”, for our evening meal, so were ready to go as far as food was concerned. Beer though, was a different matter.

I remembered my previous visit, when  I was served a pint of Adnam’s Southwold, only to find it ruined by it being pulled through a “sparkler”, so what tricks have they up their sleeves this time, I thought.

How about no cask at ale then? And only bottled Brew Dog Punk IPA to interest me, at a price in excess of £4 a bottle? To be fair it was Mrs PBT’s shout, and the beer went well with my Thai Green Curry, and given the nature of the establishment, I shouldn’t have expected much else, but even so?

Well the curry was good, even though the chef had rather over-did the chillies in the accompanying “hot slaw”! Hot wasn’t the word, and after that assault on my taste buds, any beer with fire-quenching properties would have sufficed, but the following evening, the same restaurant redeemed itself somewhat, with a perfectly reasonable pint of Doom Bar.

It was obviously fresh on, and I scored it at 3.0 NBSS. Perhaps I should have been a little more generous, as you couldn’t fault the quality. However, the blandness of the beer itself, did it no favours, so under the circumstances 3.0 was a fair enough score, especially as a chain restaurant is unlikely to make the running for the next Good Beer Guide.

We visited dad on Saturday afternoon, and he was in good spirits. It’s hard to tell whether he recognised me, but I like to think that he did. We had planned a trip to the coast, but after some shopping (Mrs PBT’s favourite means of relaxation), plus coffee and cake, a hailstorm put paid to our plans.

Sunday dawned frosty and bright, and was in fact the best day, weather-wise we’ve had for a long time, but regardless of this, we headed for home, stopping off at Thetford for breakfast, on the way home.

We arrived home to find the house in chaos, with Larry the builder still beavering away. The majority of the tiling is complete and we have a posh new toilet and sink. The former is working and the latter should be plumbed in tomorrow. We are still waiting for the shower tray and screen to be delivered, but once these items are fitted, it should be all systems go.

We’re a year behind our original schedule, but there was of course, my wife's pneumonia and resultant hospitalisation at the start of last year which threw a rather large spanner in the works.

I will leave until next time a write up of the really nice pub we found, on the way back from seeing dad, as it’s definitely a place worth reading about, and also visiting again, on our next trip, so bye for now,

Preaching to the converted

Just over a week ago, a publication dropped through my letter box and I imagine the same situation would have occurred in many households up and down the country. The publication in question was a copy of “Wetherspoon News”, the quarterly house magazine of the ubiquitous chain of JDW pubs.

In the past I have often picked up a copy of the magazine, especially whilst having a coffee or some breakfast on my own. It’s a glossed up version of the folded news sheet type of publication which Shepherd Neame used to produce for their tied estate, but unlike the Shep’s version which is aimed primarily at the licensed trade, Wetherspoon News is much more a magazine for the casual reader. In other words its readership is drawn largely from Spoon’s own customers.

So far so good, and whilst much of publication’s content is given over to news about particular JDW outlets, and the events (charity-related or otherwise) they might have been running, there was usually at least one brewing-related article about a particular brewery or perhaps a certain  style of  beer. These were the articles which I found most appealing, and were primarily the reason for me picking up the magazine in the first place.

The Winter 2018/19 edition which dropped onto my door mat the other week, does contain a one page article about the South Wales brewery of Evan Evans, along with the usual splashes about various pub-inspired charity events, but a substantial chunk of the publication is taken up with page after page of pro-Brexit /anti-EU propaganda emanating from the pen of Wetherspoon’s chairman, Tim Martin.

Including amongst Tim’s often crazed rants is an instruction to boycott goods from France and Germany; two countries which tousle-haired Tim reserves particular ire for, with a warning that the UK public must take steps to drop imports from the above nations, to zero. He goes on to tell readers that, “A world of taste awaits as we scrap EU brands”.

Martin boasts that “JDW have scoured the world to banish drink brands purchased from within the European Union”. For example, Spoon’s no longer stock Jägermerister; instead they sell an English herbal concoction called Strika, and offer their "discerning" customers Strikabombs, rather than Jägerbombs. French Champagne has been replaced by sparkling wines from Britain and Australia, and German wheat beers have been replaced by home-grown varieties.

Martin seems especially proud of this small-minded,  pettiness, but if you scratch beneath the surface, you’ll soon discover that Guinness and Stella, both of which are produced in the EU, are not included in this boycott., so clearly Tim isn’t really putting his money where his mouth is.

If further proof were needed, Kopparberg cider is also excluded from the ban; the excuse being that Kopparberg have told JDW that they will be producing their cider in the UK, post-Brexit. In effect this is just empty gesture politics, especially as most Wetherspoon’s customers won’t notice the difference, but there’s nothing like a bit of publicity where good old Tim Martin takes up his cudgel, against the evil EU, on behalf of the poor oppressed Brits.

But Martin isn’t finished yet, as he follows in the footsteps of gormless Michael Gove, by berating “experts” . What do these captains of industry know, compared to Tim and his loyal, Brexit-supporting customers? We then see the JDW chairman lionising Boris Johnson; surely the biggest charlatan behind the whole sorry Brexit fiasco.

Obviously Mr Martin, as both founder and chairman of Wetherspoon’s, can express his views in whatever way he likes, although it is worth noting he has always been vehemently opposed to the European Union. However, Martin fails to take account of a referendum result that was much narrower than many Brexiteers would have us believe, and by bombarding customers with his political views in both his house magazine and with pro-Brexit beer mats (remember them?), he risks alienating a large chunk of his potential customer base.

Perhaps Tim is merely preaching to the converted, given the preponderance of over 60, stereo-typical male “gammons” amongst his clientele; that and the terminally work-shy all-day drinker.
 
Now there's no denying that Tim Martin is a successful businessman, and I'm certain that deep down he's a decent sort of bloke as well. But as a businessman he goes against the majority of his peers not just with his support of Brexit per se,  but for his advocacy of a disastrous, no-deal Brexit.

Leaving the European Union without some kind of a deal was not something contemplated at the time of the referendum, and neither was it advocated by the majority of Brexiteers. Yet somehow the crazy idea of crashing out of the EU without any kind of arrangements in place to deal with the ensuing chaos which would ensue, has crept into the debate over the past few months, and one of its biggest supporters is none other than Timbo himself.

Only the craziest of die-hard Brexiteers back such a scenario, but Mr Martin is one of them, and he is using his pubs and his house magazine to back such a move. As well as pushing the country off the Brexit cliff, Tim even claims the UK could withhold the £39 billion settlement, which has already been agreed with our European partners.

He conveniently forgets that withholding this money would put us in breach of our current treaty obligations, under international law, thereby demonstrating, at a time when our standing in the world is at an all time low, that the UK is a country which cannot be trusted to  keep its word. If we want all these magic, still to be negotiated “free trade” agreements, that our little pip-squeak of an International Trade Secretary has been clocking up the air-miles to secure (so far with little success),  Britain  is going to need all the friends it can get.

So as a direct result of "Little Englander" Tim Martin’s  xenophobic, anti-European rhetoric,  I will no longer be spending any of my hard-earned cash in any of Tim’s establishments. I have already destroyed my Spoon’s vouchers, and after 45 years membership, I will also seriously consider whether I wish to remain a member of CAMRA.

Instead I will spread my custom around independently-owned pubs and bars; places that are run by local people for the benefit of local people, rather than a multi-millionaire who, whilst berating what he calls the “urban elite”, conveniently forgets his fortune places him firmly within that exact same camp,

I know these are small gestures, but two can play at the boycott game. Wetherspoon’s recently reported a profit warning, blaming rising labour costs, higher utility bills and interest charges, so things are already not looking as rosy as Mr Martin might wish, and by continuing to back a no-deal Brexit, he is likely to find things getting  a lot worse.

Footnote: It seems that a growing number of Tim Martin's staff do not share his enthusiasm for a damaging, no-deal Brexit, and many are blatantly unhappy about having to dish out copies of  his biased magazine.

Selling off the family silver

It was a message yesterday morning on one of our West Kent CAMRA WhatsApp groups, which alerted me that something involving Fuller’s and Japan had taken place, so after quick Google search I saw the shock news that Fuller’s are selling their beer and brewing business to Japanese brewer, Asahi, for a sum of £250 million.

The sale includes the historic Griffin Brewery, close to the River Thames at Chiswick, all the Fuller’s beer and cider brands, plus the associated distribution business. Fuller’s will retain ownership of their 400 or so pubs and hotels, and will enter into a long-term supply contract with Asahi.

This news came completely out of the blue, and caught industry observers, as well as casual onlookers, completely by surprise. As a lifelong fan of Fuller’s and their beers, I find this story particularly sad as it brings to an end the involvement of both the Fuller and Turner families in a business which was established in 1845. Now Fuller’s and its beers, will be just another collection of brands.

Now given Asahi's track record so far with their other recent acquisitions (Meantime & Pilsner Urquell), I'm sure they will prove a good custodian of the Griffin Brewery and the Fuller’s brands; at least in the short term. But for the  purposes of this post I’d prefer to leave the fallout from this takeover to other writers, such as Pub Curmudgeon and Zythophile, both of whom put a different spin on the story, and concentrate instead on describing my own involvement with what, until yesterday, was the sole surviving, independent, family-owned brewery, left in London. (I am discounting of course, the 120 small to medium breweries which have set up in the capital, over the past couple of decades).

For this, we need to return to my sixth form days, back in the early 1970’s, in Ashford and a certain school friend of mine. I shan't reveal his real name as we lost touch a few decades ago, and I’m unsure whether or not he is still alive, so for the sake of this narrative, we'll refer to him as RG. Now RG was a friend who went against the grain, because, at a time when most of us were into Prog Rock, motorbikes and chasing after girls, RG preferred to spend his spare time drinking with his parents.

His parents were what I’d call proper Londoners, who had moved to Ashford when it was designated as a London "over-spill" town. Pub-going was a way of life with them and they spread their drinking around a number of rather traditional (old-fashioned) pubs, in Ashford. 

I had developed quite a taste for beer; a trait which, much to my mother’s horror, I probably inherited from my maternal grandfather. As I became increasingly interested in pubs as well as beer, RG seemed the obvious person to help me indulge my new found “hobby”. I therefore became acquainted with quite a few pubs, both in Ashford town centre, and in the adjoining suburb of Kennington, where my friend lived.RG's parents still had family and friends living back in “the smoke”, and my friend spoke glowingly of two London brewers, both of which I had never heard of.

The two breweries of course, were Young’s of Wandsworth and Fuller, Smith & Turner of Chiswick. I will leave the story of my initial experiences of Young’s beers for another day, but I first enjoyed a few glasses of Fuller’s beers when I accompanied my friend on a trip up to London, to visit his aunt. RG's aunty lived in Chiswick, in a house which was just a stone’s throw away from the Griffin Brewery, so this was the ideal opportunity for us to enjoy a few glasses of Fuller's.

I only have very vague recollections of RG’s aunt but I have much stronger memories of calling in at the George & Devonshire, close to the brewery and enjoying a few pints of bitter (known as Chiswick today) and London Pride. Both beers were dispensed by “top pressure” as was the norm in most Fuller’s pubs, at a time when only a handful of the brewery’s pubs used traditional, hand-pump dispense. We either stood or sat at the bar, but after 46 years it is difficult to remember which.

I don’t recall much else of what we did that day, apart from taking the underground back to Waterloo, and then the train back to Ashford, but a couple of years later, when both RG and I were home from our respective universities for the summer vacation, we took another trip up to London. We had both  recently signed up as members of CAMRA, and were armed with a copy of the first ever CAMRA Guide to Real Ale Pubs in London.

I have written previously about our little pub crawl, but for those who may not have read that piece, our last port of call, prior to the afternoon closed session (remember this was long before “all day opening”), we visited the Star Tavern, in Belgrave Mews West. This legendary Fuller’s pub had a slightly chequered past, as it was here, in an upstairs room, that the Great Train Robbery was said to have been hatched.

For the beer enthusiast, the Star was one of the few Fuller’s pubs which offered beer dispensed as it should be – by hand pump, rather than under gas pressure. As well as renewing my acquaintance with London Pride, the Star afforded my first opportunity to try the equally legendary Extra Special Bitter (ESB).

The four years I spent living as a student, in Greater Manchester obviously kept me well away from the capital, and Fuller’s beers, but I did make the occasional foray back south, and with a university friend who hailed from London, there was the odd opportunity to enjoy a glass or two of Chiswick-brewed beer. It was my move to the capital in the spring of 1978, which once again allowed me to drink Fuller’s, and the Star became quite a regular, after-work meeting place.

Fast forward to a move back to Kent, initially to Maidstone and later to Tonbridge, which saw a vastly improved local beer scene to the one I had left, back in 1973. Fuller’s beers were quite widely available in local free-houses, but I was also fortunate to visit the Griffin Brewery, on a number of occasions, with my local CAMRA branch.

The company’s beers are also now widely available in supermarkets, with the bottle-conditioned 1845, being a personal favourite. My other go-to Fuller’s beer during the winter months, is London Porter. I am enjoying a bottle of it now, as I write, and its blend of dark roasted malts, and the coffee and chocolate notes they impart, combined with just the right amount of bitterness, makes this beer one of the finest available examples of this style.

So it is with much sadness that I continue to digest the news about the sale to Asahi. Fuller’s claim that 87 per cent of their operating profits came from the pubs and hotels side of the business, so from a pure hard cash point of view I can understand the reason for the sale. But from an emotional one, selling your brewery, and your highly regarded beer brands, is akin to auctioning of the family silver – something the UK seems pretty adept at doing.

We will have to see how this pans out, once the dust has settled, although I imagine that, for a while at least, not a lot will change. The longer term concern is that the Griffin Brewery, which sits on a prime area of land in west London,  could be sold off by the new owners and thereby net them a fortune.

Somewhat ironically, I noticed a number of Fuller's bottled beers on promotion at Waitrose, this afternoon. So rather protectively, I picked up three bottles of London Porter for the bargain price of just £5.

Virtue signalling is killing the pub trade this January

It probably comes as no surprise to readers of this blog to learn that Dry January is hitting pubs and clubs hard. Some members of the trade are now suggesting that  Alcohol Concern, the charity behind this fad, should find a better way to raise money without hitting local businesses.

According to reports more than five million people in the UK claim they are going without a drink during January, a figure which is up by a million on last year. Not surprisingly many pubs, and even breweries, are struggling to cope with such a massive dip in trade, and with pubs closing at a rate of four per day - the highest shrinkage since 2004 - there are concerns that the number of people starting the year by giving up on the booze, could tip many businesses over the edge.

Dry January is just one of a number of campaigns to get people to give up alcohol. Others have included Go Sober for October and Dryathlon, but as one industry observer pointed out, "These are methods of reducing alcohol consumption in a part of the population where drinking is not a problem." 

Tom Stainer, CAMRA's new Chief Executive said: "As an organisation which helps to support pubs, we believe there are other ways in which people can be encouraged to support charities, without being a detriment to small businesses." He went on to say, "This is already a difficult time of year for pubs, and a few quiet weeks can sometimes mean the difference between surviving or not."


It is worth noting that the number of pubs has slumped from 69,000 in 1980 to fewer than 50,000 today. In 1979 pubs sold 29.2m pints of beer a day, but this fell to 10.9 million last year.

The Dry January campaign was founded four years ago by Alcohol Concern, a registered "charity" which also happens to be a front for the temperance movement. The latter of course are pressing for further restrictions on drinking and curbs on people’s enjoyment, so the news that this year's campaign is being backed by Public Health England, a quango affiliated to the Department of Health, is doubly unwelcome.

Martin Caffrey, of the Federation of Licensed Victuallers, hit back against this government-backed interference in the licensed trade, by saying "We know millions have signed up to go dry in January, but our argument is that as an organisation we promote responsible drinking right through the year. That's the way people should treat alcohol."

January is the worst month possible for people to be abstaining, especially as far as the licensed trade is concerned. I know from the personal experience of running an off-licence that whilst Christmas is undoubtedly good for trade, you definitely feel the flip-side come January. After the over-indulgence and massive over-spend of the festive season, trade in January falls off a cliff. This plays serious havoc with your cash flow, as the Christmas bills all start to come in.

January can be the month which breaks a publican’s business. This one month can undermine all the hard work of the year before and, at a time when most people are looking forward to the year ahead, starts the New Year off on a real low. If you really care about our pubs it is definitely NOT the month to be going dry!

Before ending, I wish to state I have nothing against people who, for genuine health or indeed personal reasons, wish to abstain from drink for a period of time, but it should be noted there are no proven health benefits from giving up alcohol completely unless, of course, one has a serious drink problem or is a registered alcoholic. Cut down, if you must and drink sensibly, and if it genuinely makes you feel good then fine; but please leave out the self-satisfied smugness and please don’t plaster your “achievement” all over social media.