The news about
the acquisition of Britain’s second largest brewer, Greene King, by Hong
Kong-based, CK Asset Holdings broke sometime during the day, last Monday. The first I knew about it was a
message appeared on one of the WhatsApp CAMRA groups I am a member of.
As with the
takeover of Fuller’s, by Japanese brewing giant Asahi, the news came as a
complete surprise, but then I’m not one for keeping abreast of how things are
progressing financially with these companies.
There’s probably
been more than enough written about the
Fuller’s takeover, and I’m sure the same will soon apply to Greene King, so
what I want to do here is take a look at the latter from a personal
perspective, and ask why what was once a highly respected and well-regarded
regional brewery, morphed into the reviled and un-loved national concern that
it is today.
I don’t intend
going into the history of Greene King here, as there are plenty of online
sources available for those who are interested in the early development of the
company. Instead I want to start by revealing how I first became aware of the
company and how, at one point, I became determined to seek out and sample
Greene King beers for the first time.
Whilst I was in the sixth form at school, I had a friend who, unlike the rest of us,
was far more interested in beer and pubs, than progressive rock music
and chasing after girls. I have written about this friend before, and probably
mentioned that him and his family were originally from
London.
It came as no surprise then to learn that my friend's aunt owned a
holiday bungalow at Clacton-on-Sea, and what’s more, she
allowed my friend to talk her into letting it out to him plus a small group of school friends. This
was to be for a week during the summer holiday, after we had finished at school
for the final time.
As you can imagine for four 18 year olds about to go our
separate ways, it turned into a proper “lad’s holiday.” Three of us were due to start
university at the end of September, whilst the fourth member of our group had already started out in the
world of work.
Apart from anticipating our
“A” level results, we hadn’t a
care in the world. We spent our time in and out of the pubs and the amusement
arcades; our dream girls, or any girls for that matter, having failed to
materialise. On one occasion we hired a couple of two-seater pedal trikes, and
set off to explore the surrounding area, which really meant stopping off at a
suitable
pub, or two.
Now as my friend knew far more about the brewing industry
than the rest of us, he not only acted as our guide, but he also managed to select a
pub based on its owning brewery. So in the days long before the internet, and
several years before CAMRA first appeared on the scene, our school friend
guided us to a pub belonging to a brewery called Greene King.
I’ve no idea what the pub was called, or whether it’s still
trading, and to be honest, I remember very little about the place, or the taste and condition of the beer on sale there, but that was my first experience of Greene King, as a brewery..
Greene King cropped up a year later when, having gone our
separate ways, I met up with my old school friend when we were working together
as contract cleaners, in a hospital, during the university summer vacation. Roughly
halfway through our contract, we took the day off and headed up to
London
for a pub crawl based on the first ever
CAMRA Guide to Real Ale in London. I've written about our
experiences here, in great detail, should you wish to take a look.
The crawl took place back in
1974, and towards the end of the day we
ended up at the
Anglesea
Arms; a pub which was probably the first free house in
London
to capitalise on the growing interest in
"real ale.” The pub offered a selection of beers which
could not be found anywhere else in the capital, and my friend's guide informed
us that the revered
Abbot Ale from
Greene King, featured amongst
the selection of hand pumped ales available at the
Anglesea.
Unfortunately, despite the wide variety of beers on offer that
evening,
Abbot Ale was not on tap, and it was to be several years later that I
finally managed to track down a pint of any
Greene King beers, and the chance
finally came on a weekend visit to
Bedford, some time in the
mid-1970’s.
A group of friends from university had moved to the town,
primarily because during their time at uni, they had formed a rock group and
wanted to keep it together after finishing their studies. They chose Bedford
because the lead guitarist’s girlfriend came from the town, and her father – a
first generation Polish immigrant, owned a poultry farm in a nearby village.
There were several empty chicken huts on the farm, one of which was
requisitioned as a place for the band to practice in.
My then girlfriend and I were still living in
Salford,
where until recently, we’d all attended the local university. We’d been threatening to visit
our rock musician buddies in
Bedford
for some time, so after making the necessary travel arrangements, we took a train
down from
Manchester. We actually
took several trains, as we wanted to avoid the much more expensive option of
travelling via
London.
I can’t for the life of me remember the route we took, but I
do remember our train towards Bedford being delayed sufficiently long enough to
prevent us being able to enjoy a drink in the town that evening.
Our friends drank in a smashing little Greene King pub, called the Flower Pot. It was situated
just off the town centre, but by the time we found our way there, “time” had
already been called. I began to think my quest to sink a pint of Greene King
was doomed, but I needn’t have feared, as the following lunchtime, we all met
up at the Flower Pot, where I was able to knock back several pints of GK beer.
The beer was probably IPA, rather than Abbot, and it should
also be remembered that the Greene King beers available in that part of the
country, came from the company’s Biggleswade Brewery, rather than from Bury St
Edmunds. For brewery history buffs, the Biggleswade plant was the former Wells
& Winch Brewery, which was purchased by Greene King in 1961. It was used
for the production of GK beers until 1997, when it was closed following a “re-structuring”
by the parent company.
I enjoyed many pints of Greene King on that weekend and on
subsequent visits to Bedford, but
before finishing I’m pleased to report that the Flower Pot is still trading.
According to WhatPub it is one of the oldest pubs in Bedford,
with low ceilings, small windows, dark wood and subdued lighting, which give it
a cosy, traditional atmosphere. This is exactly how I remember the place.
Footnote: I have unearthed an old photo of the Flower Pot, taken in 1980. I will add it to the post, once I have scanned it in.