2020 - that was the year that wasn't

It’s certainly been the strangest year that I can remember, and I’m sure the same applies for virtually everyone on the planet, but for me at least, 2020 started out with the highest of expectations. However, as we approached the end of the first quarter of the year, it became abundantly clear that 2020 was going to be rather different, and not in a good way!

For once in my career, I started out by planning my time away from the office carefully, rather than just drifting into the year, and fitting in my holidays around other people. One of the downsides of being head of department is the need to ensure that adequate cover is provided by your section, at all times.

When that section is the Quality Control Department, having suitably qualified individuals available throughout the working year, is essential, as any hold-ups in the approval of incoming items, the carrying out of in-process checks, or that all important final release for sale, understandingly has an adverse effect on company performance and customer satisfaction.

There are those who plan their holidays with meticulous detail and, in one particular case, well in advance for the whole year. Others take a more relaxed approach and one that might be governed by external factors such as school holidays, or when their significant others are able to book leave.

In previous years I have worked around the requirements of my staff, only to find some of the best slots taken. So, even before the calendar changed at the end of 2019, I was in there with my plans. First, a short four-day cruise in early May for Mrs PBT’s and I, on the Queen Mary, across the North Sea to Hamburg; a city I have made two very brief visits to, but never really had the chance to appreciate, let alone explore properly.

The second trip was an equally short trip towards the end of the same month. This was to be joining a group of “beer enthusiasts,” many of whom are members of Maidstone CAMRA, on a short break in western Bohemia. The intention was to base ourselves in the city of Pilsen (Plzen, in Czech), and then to drink our way around as many local breweries and brewpubs as possible.

I have been on several previous trips with this group, visiting Jihlava (Czech Republic), Düsseldorf and Bamberg, and they were all highly enjoyable. Son Matthew was due to accompany me, having been on a couple of those previous excursions, and was really looking forward to it, especially after missing out on a holiday the previous year.

Finally, Mrs PBT’s had floated the idea of a visit to Austria, later in the year, accompanying her eldest niece on a trip to meet up with her estranged father. That sounded a bit “heavy” to me, but my role was going to be making the travel arrangements, acting as interpreter (not really necessary) and just going along for the ride but, as we all know, things turned out quite different and one by one we slowly watched our holiday plans crumble into nothing.

When the pandemic really stated to hit, and the first national lockdown was imposed, I wasn’t surprised to learn that our cruise would be postponed. Discussion then ensued amongst the members of the Pilsen tour group, and a decision reached to postpone that trip as well; this time until 2020. There was a hitch with this plan, tied in with the decision of the majority of the group to travel by rail. The option for replacement tickets, issued by Eurostar, had to be fulfilled by the end of March 2021, so that was the date set for the revised trip.

March wouldn’t have been my choice for a trip to Central Europe, especially knowing how changeable the weather can be at that time of year, and now, with only three months to go, March 2021 is also looking increasingly unlikely. I haven’t heard from the organisers, but I strongly suspect that once again the trip will have to be rescheduled.

The Austria trip never got beyond the “loose idea” stage, although possibly later in the new year, it might get off the ground. Despite this, and totally oblivious of what was to come, at the beginning of 2020 I embarked on a couple of trips away, although neither of them was for pleasure.

During the first full week in January, I accompanied our Business Development Manager on a trip to Scotland, to help give a presentation to our largest UK customer. The latter are based in Dundee, so that was to be  our destination and whilst I would have preferred to travel there and back by train, my colleague thought that flying would be the best and quickest option.

I’m still not convinced of the latter, but as this was his call, I went along with it. So, come Monday morning, I met him at Gatwick, and as we were travelling light with cabin baggage only, we headed straight for the Club Lounge. Being a "frequent flyer," at least until the pandemic stopped play, my colleague enjoys a few “perks” which include preferential treatment at various affiliated airports.

For a small additional fee, he was able to include me as his guest, so I joined him to see for myself how the other half travel. It was all very civilised and light years away from what a friend of mine would call those travelling “steerage.” Most importantly there was no queuing for something to eat and then scrambling to find a table, or just somewhere to plonk one’s behind down.

Instead, we were given a choice of where to sit, and then had the option of a well-stocked, breakfast buffet-bar to choose from. I didn’t pig-out, as I’d had my usual toast and marmalade before leaving home, but the bacon was rather tempting, as was a small plate of scrambled egg. Less tempting was the prospect of a beer, but as my colleague so wisely observed, “It’s always five o-clock in the afternoon somewhere in the world,” so as alcoholic beverages were also included, we each had a beer.

A quick Easy Jet flight to Edinburgh, sitting right at the front of the aircraft, saw us amongst the first off the plane, and with no baggage to wait for, and no passport control to pass through, we headed down to the car hire area, at the far end of the terminal, to collect our pre-booked vehicle.

My colleague drove us the 60 or so miles to Dundee but taking the more westerly M90/A90 route disappointingly meant missing out on a crossing via the Tay Road Bridge. Instead, we arrived in the city from the west. There’s not too much to say about our stay, apart from the presentation going well, some useful business contacts made along with good feedback on the company’s products. The people were warm and welcoming, with no signs whatsoever of any animosity being shown towards two visitors from south of the border. Best of all, the breakfast menu at our hotel, included kippers – yes!!

The following month saw Mrs PBT’s and I heading west, along the M4 into South Wales. The reason for our trip across the River Severn was to attend the funeral of my great aunt, who’d passed away at the ripe old age of 97. We journeyed down the day before the funeral, booking a couple of nights at one of the two Premier Inns in Llanelli, as although my aunt had spent the bulk of her life living in nearby Swansea, the funeral took place at Llanelli Crematorium.

The following lunchtime, and just prior to the service, we were joined by my younger sister who’d travelled down from Nottingham; a journey only a few miles shorter than ours. Eileen and I had used the morning for a drive around the nearby Gower peninsula, scene of many happy childhood holidays, so our mini-tour was a spot of pure nostalgia for me – even though I’d forgotten how narrow some of the roads were and how steep the hills were too. You can read more about my return to the Gower, here.

Despite their obviously sad nature, funerals normally afford the chance of catching up with family members, some of whom you might not have seen for decades. Aunt Margaret’s send off was no exception and after the service, we headed to the local British Legion Club, for the wake. No cask beer of course, but the plentiful cups of tea that accompanied the buffet, were most welcome.

I spent time reminiscing about those childhood holidays in the Gower, with my late aunt’s four daughters, and also had a chat with her brother, who had given the eulogy at the funeral.

Uncle Wynn was my mother’s cousin, and I remember she was very fond of him. Having the opportunity of talking and listening to him reminiscing about when he lived in London and knocked around with a group that included my mum and dad, was both enlightening and comforting - in a strange sort of way.

Meanwhile, the world was slowly starting to take note of a worrying respiratory infection, that had started as a purely local problem in a city in central China that few westerners had heard of.  When I casually mentioned at the wake, that I had visited China the previous year, people pretended to shy away, but it wouldn’t be that long before we were all avoiding one another for real.

There was one last trip though, before the brown stuff rally hit the fan, and that was the excellent “Proper Day Out” that I spent in Burton-on-Trent, with the “Real Pub Men” of the Beer & Pubs’ Forum. Around half a dozen of us, drawn from various parts of the country, spent an enjoyable day visiting some of Burton’s top pubs.

Those selling the town’s legendary beer – Draught Bass, featured highly on the itinerary, and special mention should be made of the Elms, the Burton Bridge Inn and the iconic Cooper’s Tavern, a pub that had been on my bucket list for quite some time. The company of my fellow pub and beer connoisseurs was first class, and to top it all the sun shone all day. That was in sharp contrast to the more or less incessant rains that the nation had endured during the previous three months.

Little did I think that the farewell pint I had with the group, at the Roebuck, prior to catching the train back to Kent, would be my last pint in a pub until early July, as events moved very swiftly after that. The spread of this novel Coronavirus was beginning to dominate the news, and whilst it wasn’t particularly bothering me at the time, I did start to be a little more wary of crowded situations.

For example, my train journey to Burton at the end of the first week in March, involved that cross-London fiasco that affects all rail journeys originating from south of the capital. I toyed with the idea of walking from Charing Cross to Marylebone station to avoid the congested underground, but as my reduced-price ticket, involved travelling on specific timed trains, I wouldn’t have made my connection.

Given my relatively early start time, the underground wasn’t too crowded, although I did notice a couple of people of south-east Asian extraction, wearing masks. Later, whilst on the Chiltern Line service to Birmingham, I swapped carriages at one of the intermediate stations, as there was a passenger, a few seats away, coughing his lungs up!

The rest as they say is history, and nine months later there seems no end in sight to the pandemic. There were some bright moments back in the late summer-early autumn, when pubs and restaurants were allowed to reopen, albeit with certain restrictions. I took advantage of this four-month window to make a visit to see my father, in his Norfolk care home. I wasn’t allowed to set foot inside the home and had to talk to dad through a partly opened window, but at least I managed to see him.

In October, I walked another stretch of the North Downs Way; a journey that involved an overnight stay in a pub. Enjoying an evening meal plus a few pints in the cosy and comfortable setting of an historic old inn, followed by a full English breakfast the following morning, brought a brief sense of normality to the proceedings, but unfortunately it was not to last. 

Another national lockdown, followed by an increasingly irrational Tiered system of restrictions, has meant no pubs or restaurants in Kent have been allowed to open since the beginning of November. A sad state of affairs, that is bad enough for us punters, but obviously far worse for the hapless owners of these businesses.

I’m not sure now how and when this is going to end, as there have been far too many false dawns, and broken promises. The vaccination programme that is starting to be rolled out, should offer some respite, coupled with the fact that pandemics eventually fizzle out of their own accord. One thing’s for sure, I don’t intend on making any holiday or travel plans, any time soon!

 

 

A few thoughts - Christmas 2020

Christmas Day 2020, dawned bright, sunny and cold – good conditions for leaving bottles of beer, or other drinks that are best served cool, to chill on the back step. With both fridges well-stocked, additional cooling capacity is much welcomed.

The kitchen cupboards are also full to bursting point, which makes me believe Mrs PBT’s is expecting a siege, but she’s been steadily accumulating non-perishable items, in a bid not to get caught out by the ridiculous panic buying that accompanied the first national lockdown, at the end of March. We didn’t get “caught out” of course, apart from not being able to obtain pasta or bread flour for a short period, but I’m sure there’s something in the female psyche that goes with the hunter-gatherer instinct, to make sure the family doesn’t go hungry.

No immediate danger of that then, and we’re not going to go thirsty either (at least Matthew or I won’t), as there’s sufficient beer indoors to float the proverbial battleship! A fair amount of it arrived as gifts from family and friends, including a 5 litre mini keg of Larkin’s Porter that I’m not even contemplating opening until the New Year, but if the weather does turn colder, the porter will be most welcome, as will the myriad of other dark beers I’ve managed to accumulate.

As for the event itself, there were just the three of us sitting down to an excellent roast turkey dinner. Nothing to do with government “guidelines” it’s been like this for quite a few years, and I’m certainly not complaining. When I first moved in with, and later married, Mrs PBT’s her sister and brother-in-law used to host a big family dinner at their house in High Brooms.

We occasionally reciprocated, but as nephews and nieces grew up and flew the nest, to start families of their own, parents either died or, in the case of my mum and dad, retired to some far-flung corner of the kingdom (Norfolk), we changed to spending Christmas Day at home. Eileen’s brother, and his late wife, joined us for a few years, as did a friend of mine who lived on his own, but now there’s just the three of us and we really, we prefer it this way.

I didn’t over-indulge in either food or drink this year, not having a second helping certainly assisted on the food front, and drink wise I was remarkably restrained. I kicked off with a couple cans of Pilsner Urquell. This classic and original Pilsner has become my “go-to” beer for drinking at home, then, to go with my dinner I opted for a bottle of Fuller’s 1845. This fine, full-bodied amber ale has accompanied my Christmas dinner for more years than I care to remember, and rarely does it disappoint.

 I’d perhaps left the bottle out on the step for too long, as the beer was rather too cold to start with, but once it had warmed up, it was fine. I’d planned to go on to a few other beers afterwards, and cooling on the back doorstep were Schlenkerla Rauchbier from Bamberg, St Austell Proper Job, plus a couple of beers from Belgian brewer Fort Lapin; a relatively new outfit who are based in Bruges.

I picked up a selection of these beers, which include the classic Belgian trio of Dublel, Tripel and Quadrupel, during our brief visit ashore at Zeebrugge, on last year’s “taster cruise” on board the Cunard Queen Elizabeth. I hadn’t heard of the brewery at the time, but the bottles caught my eye in a gift shop, at Zeebrugge’s cruise terminal.

The cruise was my last trip abroad, unless you count last January’s business visit to Scotland, or the trip Eileen and I made to South Wales, the following month for a family funeral as visiting foreign parts? A planned cruise to Hamburg last May was cancelled as a result of the pandemic, as was a beer enthusiast’s visit to Pilsen, in the Czech Republic. 2020 was the first time in ages that my holiday plans had been so far advanced, only to all come adrift,  so for obvious reasons there’s nothing definite yet planned for 2021!

A quick word about Christmas dinner and, given some of the “horror stories” that circulate each year about turkeys “going off” before they are cooked, full marks to Waitrose & Partners. For the past decade or so, we have ordered our Christmas “bird” from Messrs. Wait & Rose, and they have always come up trumps.

We normally buy a fresh turkey, rather than a frozen one, as it takes all the hassle out of de-frosting. I left the ordering a bit late this year, or rather I didn’t, as I it was a similar date to previous years that I went online. I was forgetting that this year, there had been a major cull of thousands of turkeys, due to an outbreak of bird-flu affecting several Norfolk poultry farms.

I ended up purchasing a free-range, Norfolk bronze feathered turkey crown. The name doesn’t mean much to me, but the price was quite a bit more than I would normally have paid. That was all that was available, so needs must and all that, I stumped up the readies and do have to say that it was worth the extra. Full of flavour, tender and succulent, so much so that each slice almost melts in one’s mouth.

Served up with plenty of roast potatoes, roast parsnips, sprouts, chestnuts, red cabbage, pigs in blankets, bread sauce and plenty of gravy, Mrs PBT’s had certainly done us proud. I resisted the temptation for seconds, a mentioned earlier, as I wanted room inside this year, for the Christmas pudding. We waited until the washing up was done, before starting on the pudding.

Later in the evening, we opened up a bottle of port to accompany the cheese selection we’d accumulated in the run-up to the festive season. The port had been kicking around from several Christmases ago, and I’d only intended to have the one glass. Talk about the best laid plans because I had several and thought better of switching back to beer afterwards.

There was the usual dross on the TV; I wouldn’t have switched the damn thing on, but Mrs PBT’s is something of a tele-addict. With a screening of seemingly every Carry-On film ever made, the news on continuous loop and the Vicar of Dibley having to endure four Christmas dinners; an episode that makes me feel ill just thinking about it, there was little to properly entertain and nothing to stimulate the mind.  I have the entire second series of “His Dark Materials” to catch up with on iplayer but disappearing to watch some of these episodes on my PC, would have been rather anti-social of me – however tempting!

I hadn’t much reading material available either. Roger Protz’s book on the “Family Brewers of Britain,” still hasn’t arrived, despite being ordered well in advance of Christmas, and I’ve nearly finished the 12 novel, four volume set of “A Dance to the Music of Time.” I am therefore desperately in need of some new reading material.

Finally, the good news announced on Christmas Eve that, against all the odds, a free-trade deal had finally been agreed between the UK and the EU, has given us all something to cheer about; whichever side of the Brexit divide one stands.  For once Johnson managed to get something right, so credit where it’s due, even if it was achieved, very much at the 11^th hour.

Perhaps we can all move on now, after four and a half years of uncertainty, but next time major constitutional change is proposed, the party behind the proposals should at least have some idea of what they want and how they intend to achieve it!

On that note, I wish everyone a happy, peaceful, prosperous and above all healthy New Year.

A free man in Tonbridge (with apologies to Joni Mitchell)

I’m a free man for the next 12 days – as free as anyone trapped in a Tier 4 lockdown can be. I finished work yesterday, as I had a few days leave left (use it or lose it, is the policy), so with almost a fortnight at my disposal, I shall use the time wisely, and try not to waste it.

Mrs PBT’s has all sorts of “jobs” lined up for me; no surprises there, but weather permitting I intend to get out and about as much as possible – or as much as Hancock’s latest misery restrictions will allow. Put it down to “cabin fever,” but I really don’t like being cooped up indoors for more than a couple of days at a time.

So, what can a poor boy do? As Mick Jagger famously sang, when pubs, restaurants and even cafés are limited to takeout’s, and attractions such as nearby Penshurst Place, Hever Castle and other historic, but interesting “stately piles” are also out of bounds? For the record, despite living in close proximity to these, and other attractions (think Chartwell, Knowle, Ightham Mote etc), I’ve never set foot inside any of them!

I’ve a seven-mile section of the North Downs Way, between the villages of Wye and Charing, to walk, which will mean I shall have virtually completed the whole of the Kentish section of this long-distance footpath. I will leave this until after Christmas, even though the 10-day forecast isn’t looking especially good. Perhaps I ought to wait until I’ve not only purchased my new set of boots but worn them in as well.

If the forecast is correct, then I can utilise the time by catching up on the blog and adding to the other online project I am working on, which is my own website.  I haven’t mentioned it before, as it’s still a work in progress, but if you want to check it out, even in its unfinished state, leave the odd comment and receive sign up to receive email updates, please click on the link above.

Eileen and I called in at Waitrose earlier. The crowds seem to have died down now, and the panic buying as a well. We've got sufficient food and drink in the house to last a siege, although if the current disruption at Dover doesn't end soon, we might be needing it all. Unfortunately, the chaos and delays we're experiencing on Kent's roads is likely to be just a small taste of what's in store, come the start of next month. 

Whoever thought it a good idea to leave the European Customs Union and Single Market, obviously has no understanding of supply chains, "just in time" purchasing and all the other intricacies that go with the trading of goods in the modern world. We could have maintained these arrangements, and still left the European Union, had it not been for the undue influence of  the dogmatic, and rabidly anti-European, ERG - a party within a party, and a misnomer if ever there was one!

As if chaos at the ports and our fair county being turned into a giant lorry park wasn't enough,  I saw the news report earlier, that much of the rest of Southern England will be move into Tier 4 from Boxing Day. This will affect our friends, a short distance away away, over the border in what was Tier 2 Sussex. At least pubs there will be able to trade on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day itself, but these are certainly very strange times we are living through.

As for me, I’m staying put, keeping my head down, remaining patient and fully prepared to see this one out. So, unless I post something tomorrow, have a good Christmas, whatever you're up to, and even if it wasn’t quite the one you were anticipating, I trust it still goes well for you.

An afternoon at the Wells

I booked  last Thursday afternoon off from work and I’m extremely glad I did, not just because I had the foresight to treat myself to a long overdue haircut – a wise move seeing that hairdressers in Kent, London and whatever the authorities mean by "Eastern England" have been forced to close again by midnight on Saturday, but because the weather was bright, the temperatures relatively mild and I accomplished what I’d set out to do.

I’d pre-booked my haircut, after which my plan was to take the train over to Tunbridge Wells, purchase sufficient stamps to post off our not inconsiderable pile of Christmas cards, and then belatedly search for and buy a few Christmas presents.

The lady who cuts my hair was chatty and glad to have reopened following the end of Lockdown 2. Whilst she feared the possibility of a third shutdown in the New Year, I don’t think that she, or even me for that matter, could have contemplated the speed at which our beloved leader has imposed the new Tier 4 lockdown on London and the south-east.

The number of people on the platform, waiting for the train to Tunbridge Wells, was more than I’d seen since March, but I still managed to find a seat where I wasn’t facing or siting adjacent to any of my fellow passengers. The town looked suitably festive as I walked up the hill towards the main Post Office and the Royal Victoria Place Shopping Centre (RVP).

The centre has had something of a makeover recently, but the painted hoardings can’t hide the number of empty retail outlets. RVP had been hemorrhaging outlets since before the pandemic, and the current restrictions on trading certainly won’t have helped. One shop that was closing -  “All stock must go,” was Trespass Outdoor Clothing. I didn’t even know they had an outlet in Tunbridge Wells, so I popped in. 

My current pair of walking boots – the ones that have fallen apart after 10 years’ regular use, are Trespass brand, so forgiving them for literally coming apart at the seams after a decade, I thought I might be able to pick up a bargain. Unfortunately, there was precious little in the way of footwear; a situation I noticed as well when I called into Cotswold Outdoors. For completeness, I also visited North Face, only to find that, like Trespass, they only stock their own branded items.

I digress, sourcing a new pair of walking boots was not my number one priority that afternoon, but it doesn’t hurt to carry out a spot of prior research. Cosmetics for Mrs PBT’s Christmas stocking, was one of the main objectives of my expedition, but for once, department store Fenwick’s, didn’t come up trumps.

I like buying cosmetics or perfumes from such places, as the helpful ladies on the concession stands will normally wrap your purchase, making it look like it was you who put the additional time and effort into the presentation of the gift. No worries, Boot’s had the item I was after, and the nice lady on the stand not only wrapped my purchase, but added a glitzy silver bow, to set the whole thing off.

Before leaving the RVP, I grabbed a takeaway flat white from the food court, and then headed along to the town’s Calverley Gardens to find a convenient bench to sit on and enjoy my coffee. The pop-up ice rink, that makes an annual appearance in the town was, somewhat surprisingly, there at the bottom of the hill, and seemed well-patronised, when I walked past. I was heading for the High Street, and a particular beer shop that I first discovered a couple of weeks ago.

Crossing the road, opposite the station, I noticed that the Bedford pub on the corner, had a window open, serving beer and food to takeaway; the latter including hamburgers, pizza and mince pies. This seemed very enterprising and quite popular as well, so it was good to see other places  along the High Street doing the same. 

I made my way past some of the high-end shops and restaurants to Chapel Place, the pedestrianised walkway that leads down to the Pantiles. My destination, nO7 off license, formerly trading as Gin & Harvey’s, offers a wide selection of local wines and beers, including offerings from, include Harvey's, Hepworth’s, Long Man, Tonbridge and Westerham. Harvey’s draught cask ales, to take away by the jug, are also available, drawn up by hand-pump from the cellar below. 

On my previous visit, I picked up four-pints of XXXX Old Ale. Old was available this time around, along with Sussex Best, but it was bottles I was after on this occasion and strong ones at that! So, Bonfire Boy, Star of Eastbourne and Old Ale, all from Harvey’s was my selection, packaged in an attractive canvas bag, carrying the Harvey’s logo.

All in all, I enjoyed my trip over to the Wells. Being able to hop on a train and just wander around, really lifted my spirits, at a time of what seemed like gathering gloom. Perhaps my optimism was misplaced, certainly in the aftermath of Saturday’s announcement, but whatever the consequences of moving into Tier 4, it was an enjoyable way to spend an afternoon. As an additional bonus, I also clocked up over 14,000 steps!

Keeping and enjoying takeaway beer at home

With much of the UK now experiencing the full lockdown restrictions that come with being in Tier 3, and the rest of the country the slightly less strict privations of Tier 2, opportunities for those of us who enjoy a pint or three of cask ale, are few and far between. With pubs in Tier 3 being restricted to takeaway sales only, much depends on

The old-fashioned Jug & Bottle facilities, that were a feature of many late Victorian and Edwardian pubs, were just that. A separate section where customers could turn up to buy either draught ale – to take away in their own container (usually a jug), or if they has slightly more money to spend, bottled beer – rather like a modern day off-license.

Bottled beer was in its infancy back then and sold at prices considerably in excess of its draught counterpart, but if you were well-heeled, and fancied a beer with a little more sparkle, and one that kept well, this form of beer was definitely the one for you.

For the purpose of this article, I want to stick with draught beer, and cask ale in particular, as referenced at the start of the post. So, returning to the ubiquitous jug for a moment, let’s dismiss this container as a sensible option, unless the beer is going to be drunk immediately. The open nature of the jug, with its wide mouth and lack of closure, means any beer kept within it will rapidly lose condition, and end up flat, dull and lifeless, so we need to search for something more suitable.

Two-pint flagons, with an internal screw top, were a common sight; even as late as the 1970’s when I first started drinking. Whitbread Pale Ale was often sold in flagons, as was the same brewery’s Forest Brown Ale. Beers from other brewers were also available, but the two Whitbread examples are the ones that stick in my memory.

Once the contents of these receptacles had been drunk, the empty flagons could be washed out and used to collect draught beer, from the pub, for consumption in the home, but alas no more. I can’t remember the last time I saw one of these flagons, which is a shame, as with their narrow, screw-top necks, made them ideal for takeaway draught beer.

Enter the Carry Keg – reusable and durable containers, made of PVC, and available in either 4- or 8-pint sizes (2.4 & 4.5 litre). Modeled to look like old fashioned stoneware containers, with a conical neck and handy “finger-loop” handle, these vessels have been around since the 1980’s, and possibly earlier. Their main drawback is the screw-on “pressure cap” they are sealed with; a cap that is designed to release excess CO2 that might build up inside.

This feature is superfluous, as far as I am concerned, as the last thing needed is a closure that allows the beer to go flat and seeing as they are used almost exclusively for beer that is drawn off “bright” from the cask, very little secondary fermentation takes place and virtually no additional CO2 generated. 

And yet, Carry Kegs have been in use for over 40 years, so surely the manufacturers must be doing something right? Brewers, such as Harvey’s make full use of these containers, and back in the day when I worked in Lewes, I was a regular visitor to the Harvey’s Shop for my twice-weekly takeaway order of Best Bitter, or whatever seasonal beer was on sale at the time.

A few year later, when my wife and I ran the "Cask & Glass" in Tonbridge – a specialist “real ale off-license,” we also offered cask beer for takeaway, dispensed into these reusable Carry Kegs. They were obviously popular, and as trade built up, we were getting through four firkins (9-gallon casks) a week. All the time though, I couldn’t help thinking that these containers weren’t ideal for cask ale, unless it was to be drunk more or less immediately.

Much of the beer was for immediate consumption but given what I saw as the limitations of the Carry Keg I trialed the use of plastic milk containers, available in either 2- or 4-pint sizes. These were better, as there was no superfluous vent cap, but being made out of polythene, there was still a tendency for the gas to escape – leading to beer that was sometimes flat or lacking in life.

For once, the Americans seem to have the answer with their ubiquitous “Growlers.” Originally made out of glass, but now also available in much robust stainless-steel form, growlers are generally gas-tight, meaning beer can be stored for much longer periods without going flat. They are sealed with either a screw-on cap or a hinged porcelain, gasket cap, which maintains freshness for a week or more. They are available in sizes of 64 US fl oz (just under 3.5 gallons), 32 US fl oz (1 US Quart) or, for those who are really thirsty, 128 US fl oz (1 US Gallon).  

Despite all these positive attributes, for some reason Growlers have never really caught on the UK, with most breweries and pubs that offer takeaway cask, sticking to the aforementioned and, in my view, far inferior Carry Kegs. It might just boil down to cost, but you get what you pay for, and a splashing out on a robust and gas-tight, stainless steel Growler, to me, makes perfect sense.

They are available in a few places, including Fuggles who operate a couple of popular and successful beer cafés, in both Tonbridge and Tunbridge Wells. Alternatively, you can order direct from Craft Beer Growlers. If this wretched lockdown continues for much longer, a decent growler would definitely be a wise investment.

Instead of buying ready-dispensed cask ale, you could instead, always go for your own bulk container, so you can draw off your one beer, as and when you feel the demand. Four and a half gallon (36 pints) polypins are known to many beer enthusiasts, and providing you purchase one containing “live” beer, the contents should last for a few weeks. If you don’t want to be stuck with such a large amount of the same beer, then why not opt for a mini pin, which holds around 18 pints.

The ultimate containers for draught beer, including brewery-conditioned (i.e., non-real) beer, is the humble 5 litre mini keg. I have had several of these over the years, and the beer always keeps well in them. They have an integral, pull-out tap close to the base, plus a “release valve” at the top. The valve needs to be opened in order to dispense the beer, but then closed in order to maintain its condition.

Cask beer will last up to a week in these containers, but with just over eight and a half pints of beer inside, most drinkers will knock that back in just a few days. I first encountered mini kegs on a trip to Bamberg, in northern Bavaria. As I was journeying by coach, I was able to bring one of them back with me and seeing as I was in Bamberg, my beer of choice just had to be the city’s most famous Rauchbier – Aecht Schlenkerla Märzen.

The keg survived the journey home, and over Christmas that year, I was able to enjoy brewery fresh Schlenkerla Rauchbier. Last Christmas I treated myself to a mini keg of Larkin’s Porter, from the brewery of the same name, just up the road from my workplace, and I might well do the same this year.

Finally, it’s worth mentioning the ceramic-stoppered, swing-top, “Grolsch” type bottles. They aren’t ideal for taking to the pub for a top-up, as they only hold around 500ml, but as they are easy to refill and seal, it’s sometimes worth filling them with beer racked off from the remains of a mini keg, and then leaving them to condition for a couple of weeks.

I did this with the couple of pints of Porter left from my recent Larkin’s mini cask. I will crack one open over Christmas and see what the beer is like. In the end making sure that the cask ale you are drinking at home, is every bit as good as what you’d expect in a pub, takes a blend of common sense and a little ingenuity. If you’ve got these qualities right, then the proof of your actions should show itself in the beer you are drinking. Cheers, Prost, à votre santé, Na zdravi, etc.

Restrained drinking on the home front

It’s said that every cloud has a silver lining and if you look hard enough, there are one of two hiding, even under something as soul-destroying as the lockdown. So, looking back over the whole miserable experience, I did manage to find at least one positive, which I will relay to you shortly, but with no obvious end in sight to the current situation, I’m going to have to dig a little deeper to find some more.

The positive piece of news is that, even though I’m not really keeping tabs, I know my personal beer consumption has fallen considerably, and it’s all down to drinking at home. Flipping open a bottle or cracking open a can at the end of an evening, might well provide a welcome and thirst-quenching draught to look forward to, but it’s not the same as being in the pub with a group of friends, getting the rounds in, as the evening ears slowly on, and that’s the trouble.

You’ll appreciate that it’s not unusual to knock back three or four pints over the course of an evening, without really noticing it, but whilst the odd beer at home is undoubtedly welcome, it’s nowhere near the same as knocking back those pints, in the company of friends, at a good old-fashioned pub – any pub, for that matter, at the moment.

So, whilst there aren’t many evenings that go by when I don't pour myself a beer, it normally is just the one, especially on a school night. I might push the boat out at the weekends and have a couple, or even three, if I choose to have a beer with my main evening meal, but there’s something about those home-poured beers that just isn’t conducive to volume drinking.   

But is this decreased beer consumption having any positive affect on my not so sylph-like figure? Sadly, the answer is no, but it must be having some effect. The other good thing is drinking at home allows far more variety than the average pub – not always a good thing, as there’s a lot of truth in the irony of too much choice, meaning less. However, with many cask breweries turning their output over to packaged beers – bottles and cans, there’s a staggering variety of different beers out there.

There’s the additional option of buying beer in bulk, but this comes with problems of its own, such as keeping and storing the stuff, without it going off. I’ll cover this topic another time, as it’s well worth a second look, but whilst a few pints of the same beer in a pub, on occasion, can be very enjoyable, the prospect of getting through a cask of the same brew, night after, can be somewhat daunting.

None of this though detracts from the fact that I have tended to drink a lot less beer at home, than I would have done in a pub. I tell myself that, small as they are, my efforts are helping breweries, and those pubs I have bought beer from, survive the crushing effects of the lockdown. But despite this, I can’t help feeling concern over what will be left of the hospitality trade, when this whole wretched business is finally over.

One final point, my observations are proof, if proof was needed, that beer is a social drink, and one that is best enjoyed in the company of other humans. It doesn’t matter whether those humans are family members, friends, casual acquaintances, or strangers met along the way, as each encounter comes with its own unique experience. Even if that experience is sometimes lost in the moment, it shouldn’t detract from the overall happening or event, because the feelings of pleasure, joy or sometimes even sadness that go with it, cannot be taken away from us – unless we allow them to!

                                                            

Facebook - keeping people connected, or Pandora's box?

 Approximately nine months or so ago, I decided I’d finally had enough of social media and started giving Facebook a wide berth. A couple of months afterwards, I posted a message to all friends and family members using the site, listing out the reasons for my lack of activity and explaining why I’d been actively avoiding Facebook.

As we approach the end of a year which many of us would rather forget, I’d like to take a brief look back at that final post, especially as my reasons haven’t changed. In fact, with some of the anti-vaxxer nonsense being perpetrated on social media, I’m even more convinced that my decision to ignore Facebook, was the right one.

Since its inception and launch in 2004 as a social networking site, Facebook has become a global phenomenon, and is now the largest social network in the world, with more than one billion users. Founder and CEO, Mark Zuckerberg has obviously amassed quite a fortune in the process – not that there’s anything wrong with that in itself, it’s just the fact that what started out into a platform where people can connect with one another, has now morphed into an out of control monster whose influence now extends into the very heart of government.

Like many others, I was drawn in impressed with the possibilities the site offered of sharing photos, information, details of various activities and items with a shred common interest amongst family and friends. I used Facebook to post photos and details of holidays, rips abroad, or to comment on events that were happening in the world.

When Mrs PBT’s was seriously ill three years ago, and in intensive care, the site proved invaluable for posting bulletins and sharing updates on her progress, amongst family and friends. These Facebook updates saved me from having to make numerous phone calls or texts to all those who were anxious about Eileen’s condition and keen to learn how she was recovering.

So far, so good, but it wasn’t long afterwards that I began to notice a dark side to the social media giant that, had I bothered to look, had been lurking in the background for some time. I’m referring here to Facebook’s all-pervasive nature, and the way it encourages people to share or like certain items and events.

These are harmless enough if they’re photos of puppies or kittens, even if they are more than a little cringeworthy, but when the items being shared are stories and information that are obviously false, then the site becomes a platform for fake news and misinformation that is potentially dangerous, especially when targeted at gullible people or individuals who are easily manipulated.

These sorts of practices can be very dangerous when used to influence or even subvert the democratic process; as evidenced by the shadowy, data-harvesting role carried out by Cambridge Analytica. This data was then allegedly used by the Vote Leave campaign in the 2016 EU Referendum, to target and influence voters from socio-economic groups C2 and DE.

Similar allegations were made against the government of Russian President, Vladimir Putin, during the US Presidential elections from the same year. Facebook of course, vehemently denied such allegations, although as Mandy Rice-Davies famously said, “Well they would, wouldn’t they?

The site has also become home to all sorts of fringe activists and out and out crackpots, ranging from umpteen conspiracy-theory groups, to science-deniers, such as anti-vaxxers. Sometimes they’re combined – Bill Gates will use the Corona vaccine, to inject micro-chips into people, in order to control them. Or, at the start of the pandemic, the virus is being spread by 5G phone masts!

But serious though these charges are, it’s the things that are going on at a much lower on the social media network that is of far more concern. Sharing trivia such as photos of cuddly puppies or cute babies is relatively harmless, even if it is a detachment from the real world, but when the intention behind sharing is to shame people, then the whole thing takes on a far more sinister turn.

“Share this, if you care,” or worse still “Only my real/true friends will share this,” “They will know who they are.” The not so subtle message here is, if you want to remain friends with me, then share this piece of sentimental rubbish, fake news or out and out poison. This combined with the constant whining, the scaremongering and the people who are “outraged” over something totally insignificant, is enough to make one want to pass the sick bucket.

Worse still are the “keyboard warriors,” quick to post a cutting comment or quip, without having bothered to read the facts, safe in the knowledge that there will be no comeback on their hurtful, insulting or even racist remarks. I appreciate that this “cyber-bullying” is actively discouraged by Facebook’s administrators and compliance people, yet it still goes on.

 

This, along with all the other negativity Facebook attracts, is enough to do anyone’s head in. It was certainly doing in mine; even though I regard myself as a positive, level-headed and pretty much together sort of person. What sort of effect would all this be having on a person with low self-esteem or suffering from mental health issues?

 

So, apart from the occasional quick glance, I’ve given Facebook a complete miss these past nine months. I feel much better without a daily social-media fix; in fact, I would go so far as to say that since avoiding the site, my mood has lifted considerably. I also consider that my mental health and general well-being have improved no end, despite the gloom surrounding Coronavirus and an impending “no-deal Brexit.”

If I have missed anyone’s birthday, anniversary or significant life-event, then please accept my sincere apologies. I still care about family and friends, but now remain in touch with those I want to, via WhatsApp. 

There’s no blame attached to the people who originally developed Facebook. I’m certain they did so with the best of intentions. It is implausible to believe that, even in their wildest dreams, they could have imagined the site becoming the success it has become today. It’s naïve too to think they could have contemplated the increasingly bad effect the site is having on the world population, and the ability of people to be properly informed and think for themselves.