A roller-coaster week

It’s been a real roller-coaster of a week, with emotions running high and the mood music swinging both ways. Tuesday was the day set aside for my father’s funeral a sad but, as I will describe later, moving and uplifting occasion that allowed us legally, to escape the confines of Kent and journey up to Norfolk.

With hotel accommodation uncertain, and opportunities for dining whilst away from home severely limited, this meant driving there and back in a day. This is something I’ve always tried to avoid in the past, following the experience of the umpteen trips I’ve made to Norfolk, this past quarter century.

When my parents first relocated to Norfolk, it was common for myself, and quite often the family as well, to stay at their place, but as their health began to deteriorate, bed & breakfast or a hotel room, became the order of the day. An overnight stay, or two allowed me to experience a bit more of Norfolk than the area surrounding Dereham, which is where my parents settled down.

The return drive is perfectly doable but, it is not a particularly pleasant journey and being in the saddle for that length of time does take it out of one. Needs must though, so I booked three days off from work: one either side of the funeral itself. Due to the pandemic, I haven’t used much of my annual leave, and seeing as there’s only so much we can carry over into the next financial year, I thought I might as well use some up.

We were due at Breckland Crematorium at 1pm, for dad’s funeral, so obviously not wishing to be late, set off in plenty of time. We left Tonbridge at 8.30am, and whilst the traffic was steady, there were no holdups. The usual delays prior to the Dartford Crossing did not materialise, whereas normally there would have been congestion at that time of the morning.

This was probably due to a reduction in commuter traffic, but whilst the number of cars was definitely lower, the same could not be said about the lorries. Commercial vehicles of varying sizes abounded, including a fair number of foreign registered trucks, undeterred by the border chaos caused by leaving the Single Market. How could this act of lunacy have ever been considered a wise move?

Another thing that was increasingly evident, especially around the M25, was the poor state of the road surface, with rather too many potholes, including some potentially suspension wrecking craters. This really isn’t good enough, but then if government money has been squandered on converting large swathes of Kent into giant lorry parks, perhaps not surprising.

Despite these obstacles, we made good time, following the time honoured route of M11 and then A11, through Essex, a small section of Cambridgeshire and Suffolk into Norfolk. I know this route like the back of my hand, to the extent of every roundabout, what lane to be in, and the position of the speed cameras.

Breckland Crematorium is a new addition to the local area and from our point of view, saved a journey into Norwich and its congested inner ring road. It is in an attractive rural location, close to the village Scoulton, to the west of Watton.  Rather surprisingly, it’s a family-owned concern, rather than being run by the local authority.

We arrived a couple of hours early, so after parking up broached the picnic that Mrs PBT’s had packed up for us. A flask of coffee and a few sandwiches later, we took a drive into nearby Watton, for a quick look. The Hare & Barrel Hotel on the western edge of the town, where I’d spent a night a few years ago, ceased trading before the pandemic, but there are still several other hostelries closer to the centre. Watton also seems well served by Chinese and Indian takeaways, along with a Transylvanian shop – Romanian, presumably? And good too to see an independent butcher and several bakers.

We returned to the crematorium to await the arrival of my younger sister and her own grown-up children. The pandemic sadly meant my other sister was unable to fly over from the United States, although she was able to view the service via a live webcast. Other relations, including the Welsh contingent, were also unable to travel – the latter group falling foul of the same constraints regarding hotels, as us.

Dad’s age – he was five months’ short of his 90^th birthday, meant that surviving friends and contemporaries are few and far between, so sadly it was a rather thin turnout present, to say farewell to him. We’d chosen a celebrant rather than a priest to preside over the service, as whilst mum was deeply religious, dad was far less so, and went along with the church side of things just to keep his wife happy.

It was a nice and very moving service, with the celebrant leading the introductory words of welcome, based on information about dad that I’d supplied to her, followed by me reading out some memories of dad and his life, that I’d written. I’d been told beforehand, to speak up and talk into the microphone. Fortunately, I was permitted to remove my mask whilst reading out my tribute.

It was difficult, at times, not to choke up, but I managed to compose myself for most of my talk. It was the music that really brought out the emotion, especially the introductory track “Puff, the Magic Dragon,” by Peter, Paul & Mary. This was a favourite song from childhood, and one which dad liked too, whilst my sister and I were growing up. There is something powerful about music that can really stir the emotions, and this track certainly did this with me.

After the service, we all trooped outside managing to suppress the very powerful human instinct to hug one another. We agreed to meet up, as a family, for a proper get together, once this Covid nonsense is over. Dad’s ashes will need to be interned, in the plot next to mum at the natural cemetery and ceremonial park at Green Acres, on the outskirts of Norwich, so there will be at least one more trip up to Norfolk.

We drove home via Watton, Mundford and Brandon, passing the massive USAF base at Lakenheath, where my American brother-in-law had been stationed, before re-joining the A11 at Barton Mills. The return journey was uneventful, with again no hold-ups, although traffic on the approaches to the QE2 Bridge was predictably heavy.

So, despite news reports of motorists being stopped for travelling out of their immediate location, we did not see a single police car, let alone a checkpoint. Our outward and return crossings of the Thames at Dartford will obviously have been recorded, but as I have a Dart Charge account, the fees will automatically be debited from my account.

We had a lie in on Wednesday morning, before getting ready to go out shopping. Shortly before midday, I answered a call on the landline. It was our local medical centre in Tonbridge, offering Eileen and I a Covid vaccination the following afternoon. We both of course, said yes, even though it meant me taking an additional half day off from work.

The Baptist church, at the north end of Tonbridge, has been commandeered as a vaccination centre. We took a drive down that afternoon to check out things such as parking, and then on Thursday afternoon, I left work early and collected Mrs PBT’s from her workplace.

We arrived at the vaccination centre in good time, parked and joined the queue. It was all very well organised, with an army of volunteers assisting. After checking in, we were both interviewed by a doctor, who happened to be from our own practice, before being shown into the main hall, instructed to roll up our sleeves in order for a nurse to give us that all important, shot in the arm.

We were told beforehand that it was the Oxford AstraZeneca vaccine we’d be getting, and after the injection we were given a card, with the date, time and batch number of the jab, along with a date and time for the second shot. I must admit to feeling quite emotional about the whole thing, which really is a splendid example of the coming together of the scientific, research and healthcare communities in order to develop, test and roll out this vaccine in record time.

Those driving were asked to remain seated in the hall for 15 minutes, just to check for any possible reaction, and then we were free to go. We’ve both experienced very mild, flu-like symptoms that are similar to those associated with the flu vaccine. It will take three weeks for this first shot to confer maximum protection – of around 60%, with the second injection boosting this to around 90%.

Our combined medical practices in Tonbridge have done a first-class job and seem to be ahead of neighboring towns such as Tunbridge Wells. Eileen and I only turned 65 last year, so feel both grateful and privileged to have received the vaccine so rapidly. We will need to continue complying with current guidelines of mask wearing and social distancing, until the situation is well and truly under control, but at least in a few weeks’ time we will feel more confident about mixing with others. This will be a particularly welcome boost to Mrs PBT’s.

I said it had been an emotional week!

 

Ayinger Bräu - Munich's favourite country brewery

Whilst bemoaning the total lack of travel opportunities at the moment, I started looking back at some of the places I have visited over the years – places where beer inevitably plays a pivotal role. Most of my holidays have been relatively short city breaks, and there are two places that keep coming up. More than that, these two cities seem to compete with each other for my affection and hence it is often difficult to decide between the two.

The two cities are both relatively close to one another, and both are famed the world over for being places where large amounts of beer are brewed and enjoyed. You might well have guessed the names of these two places by now, but in case you haven’t, they are Munich and Prague.

Since the middle of the 2000’s, when I was free to travel again, following the sale of our off-license business, I have made six visits to both cities, although Prague comes out on top due to a much earlier visit, back in 1984. My son Matthew has accompanied me on most of these trips and, like me, he seems equally torn between the Bavarian and the Bohemian, but for this article it is Munich I want to concentrate on.

 Our last visit to the city was a fleeting one, in May 2018. We’d spent a few days in Bamberg, with some friends from Maidstone CAMRA and because we’d flown in and out via Munich’s large international airport, we managed a short stop off in the city on our way home. We also took a short break there, the previous February.

This was primarily to meet up with Matthew’s best friend; my role primarily being to keep an eye on the two, whilst acting as a sort of tour guide. Mid-winter isn’t the best time for visiting any city in northern Europe. The bright lights and the crowds of the Christmas markets will have long vanished, and spring still seems a long way off, but I still enjoyed the break. 

It got me thinking that it is a long time since we enjoyed a proper summer holiday in the Bavarian capital and when I checked it turned out our last high season break in Munich was in 2014. We were unlucky with the weather that year, leaving sub-tropical temperatures behind as we left England, to experience a 10 degree fall in temperature and leaden skies, on our first full day in the city. A sudden change in direction in the jet-stream, bringing the remains of tropical storm “Bertha” was responsible for the wettest and chilliest holiday we’ve had in Munich, but we still managed to track down plenty of decent beer.  

I was reminded of this holiday by some beers I bought back in December. Unable to serve the on-trade, local beer café Fuggles, who have outlets in both Tonbridge and Tunbridge Wells converted their premises into off-licences offering a wide range of bottles, cans and mini-kegs for customers to takeout, and it was here that I picked up some beers from Bavarian brewers  Ayinger Bräu,

The latter brew in the village of Aying, a 35-minute train journey on the S-Bahn to the south of Munich. The company like to promote themselves as “Munich’s favourite country brewery,” and it is well worth making the trip out to Aying in order to sample their beers.

A short walk from the station leads to the village centre, where you will find the brewery inn and guest house complex, known as Liebhards.  Ayinger Bräu’s large, modern-looking brewery is on the western edge of the village. It brews a wide and diverse range of different beers and also offers tours, although I have still to go on one.

Previously our visits to Liebhards, had been in the early evening, but in 2014 we made the trip at lunchtime instead. It was our first full day in Munich and the grey-leaden skies were pouring with rain like it was never going to stop. We got soaked just walking up from the station, but once inside the rustically furnished, but surprisingly large inn, and with a half-litre mug or two of Ayinger Bräu’s excellent, unfiltered Kellerbier in front of us, all thoughts of the inclement weather outside vanished.

We arrived at around 12.30pm and the pub was quite quiet, but not long. After we has sat down and ordered our drinks, several parties of mainly elderly people came in. Like us, they seemed glad to escape from the rain, and like us they ordered some food to go with their beer. Actually, we only ordered some soup, as we were planning on eating something more substantial in the evening, but the chicken noodle soup and the dense, dark local Landbrot that went with it, were exactly right for lunchtime.

If you don’t want to make the trip right out to Aying village, the company’s beers can be found in several outlets in Munich itself; including Ayinger am Platzl, opposite the Hofbräuhaus, right in the city centre. The latter is run by a member of the Inselkammer family, who also own and run the brewery, but for thirsty travellers, who have just arrived in the city, there’s another Ayinger run establishment, directly opposite the Hauptbahnhof (railway station).

On the northern side of Arnulf Straße, directly opposite the halt where the Lufthansa bus drops off passengers from the airport, you will find Wirtshaus Rechthaler hof.  Its yellow painted walls and distinctive Ayinger Bräu signs, are easy to spot, and on the last afternoon of our February 2017 visit, we decided to pop in for a couple of final beers, before taking the bus to the airport. We were glad that we did, as the place was spotlessly clean and welcoming, with an interior decorated in a traditional Bavarian-style, with wooden barrel ends mounted on the wall, animal trophies and historical pictures.

We chose one of the high tables close to the window, so we could sit and watch the world go by, whilst enjoying our beers.  I sampled the Helles, plus the Altbairisch Dunkles; both were good, with the former being probably the best beer of the trip. Judging by the newness of the décor, I was wondering whether Ayiner Bräu had only recently taken over but given the central location of this excellent pub and the quality of its beer, I would definitely recommend a visit.

I digress and returning to my haul of takeaways from Fuggles, I bought the following three bottles: 

 Kirtabier 5.8%, is an amber coloured, Märzen style beer, that is packed full of
chewy-toffee, malt-driven flavours. It is soft on the palate, whilst being rich in flavours, making it easy to drink and enjoy.

Winter Bock 6.7% is a strong, dark, Bock style beer, full of rich, but soft roast malt flavours, balanced by the spicy, earthy pepperiness derived from a generous hopping. Rich in flavours whilst soft on the palate, this is the perfect winter beer to enjoy on a cold late January night.

Celebrator 6.7%. This is a strong, Doppelbock beer, brewed specially for the winter season. I haven’t opened this one yet, although I might at the weekend, for reasons that might become apparent toward the end of this piece.

This talk, and sampling of Ayiner Bräu beers has increased my yearning for a return to Munich and that train ride back out to the village of Aying. Foreign travel may well still be several months away; it might not even be possible until the autumn, at the earliest. But when it does come, I shall make that journey to Aying, walk up to Liebhards and drink deeply of whichever beers they have on tap. I might even call in at Wirtshaus Rechthaler hof as soon as I arrive in the city.

One thing that really does fill me optimism at the moment, is the phone call I received earlier today, asking Mrs PBT’s and I to attend the local vaccination centre, for our first shots of the Covid-19 vaccine. The local medical centre has even given us the date for our second jabs.

A small step I know, but a significant one along the rocky road to an eventual return to some form of normality. That eventual outcome can’t come soon enough, and I’m sure we are all in agreement on that! 

Footnote: The Lufthansa transit service, to and from Munich airport, is a bus in the American sense of the word. Effectively it is what we Brits would call a “coach.” If you want comfort, style and a reasonable transit time, it really is the best way to travel into central Munich. It certainly beats struggling onto the S-Bahn with your baggage, and then sitting there as the train stops at every station en route – that’s if you can even get a seat!

 

St Peter's acquired by new owners

I am sure that many beer lovers will be familiar with Suffolk-based St Peter’s Brewery, with its distinctive oval-shaped bottles and diverse range of interesting beers. Founded in 1996, the brewery is based in former agricultural buildings alongside the historic St Peter’s Hall, in the village of St Peter South Elmham, close to the town of Bungay.

St Peter’s could be described as one of the UK's pioneering craft brewers, long before the term became fashionable, and alongside a range of “traditional” beers, such as Best Bitter, Pale Ale and Golden Ale, produce a host of other interesting beers, including porters, stout, pilsner and the odd fruit beer.

Four of the beers are available in cask form, but I don’t recall ever seeing them in this part of the country. I have enjoyed them before though, at the company’s London pub, the Jerusalem Tavern in Clerkenwell.  Most St Peter’s beers are supplied in either keg or bottled form, and although due to lock-down, it’s a while since I last ventured into a supermarket to buy beer, I am reliably informed the bottles are readily available at Waitrose.

So far, so good, but the reason I am writing about St Peter’s is the news that the company has been bought by a group of private individuals, for an undisclosed sum. This follows the decision of brewery founder, John Murphy, to retire after 23 years, during which he developed and ran the business.

Although selling St Peter’s was a difficult decision for John, he is delighted to have found a team that will continue his legacy and continue to make high quality, traditional beers. This is especially important given the loyal following St Peter's attracts, in over 20 countries.

The new owners are friends who have worked together and share a passion for beer. The team will be led by Derek Jones; a seasoned beer man with more than 20 years of global beer experience, including at Molson Coors and SABMiller. Following the announcement of the takeover, Derek said, “This is an incredibly exciting new chapter for St Peter's Brewery. The company has strong roots and a very distinctive identity. It is a powerful platform from which to grow the business into the future.”

He went on to say that “John Murphy had a clear vision for the brand, and we want to build on that.” He pledged to invest in the Suffolk brewery from the outset, and to maintain quality while meeting growing demand.

So, some a positive development, coming at a time when good news is in short supply. I was alerted to the takeover, by a press release forwarded by Nikki Whiteford, who also kindly supplied the high-resolution photos used to illustrate this post.

Most are self-explanatory, whilst the final shot shows  new CEO Derek Jones toasting the deal at the Jerusalem Tavern with former owner and founder John Murphy.

Pandemic blues

It seems I am not alone, and I don’t know whether that’s a good thing, or a bad thing. If the reports are to be believed, the majority of the nation is suffering  quite badly, mentally during this third national lock-down, and much more so than was the case during the first.

I’m not sure what happened during the second shut-down, sandwiched as it was between complicated, and often inconsistent periods of restrictions, known as Tiers – no pun intended. This current incarceration though is a real bummer, especially as it coincides with two of the coldest and most miserable months of the year.

January and February aren’t brilliant, at the best of times, but at least there are warmer days to look forward to, holidays to plan and, particularly missed at the moment, cosy evenings tucked away in the comforting warmth of a local pub, enjoying a pint or two in the company of friends. There are also occasional excursions or days out to help break up the gloom and lighten one’s load.

The beginning of 2021 sees none of these welcome pattern interrupts occurring, and instead we are confined to our own homes and only allowed out for a handful of specific reasons. Exercise – that essential pick-me-up and mood enhancer, is only allowed within a prescribed radius of one’s own home, preventing people like me with a National Trail to complete, from jumping on a train and walking in a different area.

We are not supposed to meet up with family or friends, even in an outdoor setting; a totally ludicrous and unnatural state of affairs. The population, on the whole, are behaving like compliant sheep, having been sacred witless by tales of impending doom, and whilst I don’t wish to play down the seriousness of the situation, it is surely time for a more balanced approach than this soul-destroying, involuntary, self-incarceration.

There’s no escape from it though, try and behave normally and you will feel the full weight of a police state come crashing down on you, and in case you had forgotten the message, adverts assail our eyes and ears with an Orwellian “Newspeak” message. “Protect the NHS,” say the ads, when surely the role of the health service should be the other way round, and protect us?

Now I know I will be castigated for that statement, and my heart goes out to all hard-pressed healthcare staff, working on the front-line. I also fully agree we should do our utmost to contain this insidious virus, but there are ways and means. Most of us are sufficiently grown up to know we should act responsibly, without it being drummed into us by the nanny state, so please give us a break from these utterly depressing ads!

Returning now to the issue of mental health, and further explanation as to why it should be so bad during this lock-down. We have already mentioned the weather and the complete contrast with those balmy days and mild dusky evenings of early summer, sat outside in the garden enjoying an alfresco meal and a few cool glasses of beer.

Now, after ten months of on and off restrictions of varying severity, pandemic fatigue is really setting in. The media are making it worse, with tales of new variants of the virus, capable of spreading faster, and possibly less susceptible to the vaccines that are hurriedly being rolled out. There are rumours that the lock-down may have to be extended into April, and possibly beyond that – cheer us all up, why don’t you?

No wonder many of us are depressed; six in ten men, if the reports are correct, and seven in ten women. This article in the New Statesman, sums up the situation far better than I can, but basically because it is difficult to see an end to the pandemic, despite the promise of release offered by the vaccines, people have little to look forward to beyond the dull monotony that goes with cutting all but essential contact with our fellow human beings.

I’ve written before that I’m fortunate in going to work five days a week, and I can honestly say that without the contact and interaction with my workmates, I would probably have cracked long ago, but work isn’t everything. Us humans need some variety in our lives, along with the odd spot of pleasure too. Those trips out, visiting new places or re-visiting old haunts, all help lighten the mood, as do times spent with friends and family, and yet we’re made to feel bad and accused of being selfish for wanting to experience these normally acceptable pastimes and high points in our daily lives.

So, is it just me, or are others feeling the same? I strongly suspect the latter, but what can be done about it, apart from remaining patient?  Pursuits that help take our mind off things certainly help -reading, writing, exercising outdoors, or a project to get stuck into, are all good examples, as is any pursuit that brings satisfaction and a sense of achievement.

One of the best ways to prevent the gloom from taking hold is to watch or listen to news reports sparingly. We all know that bad news sells copy, which is why the media fall over themselves to serve up as much of it, as they can.  Stories become tested and facts become exaggerated, tacitly encouraged by the government to perpetuate the state of fear and keep the nation compliant.

For the sake of your mental health, give all this gloom a wide birth. Look instead for the good news, the heart-warming and encouraging stories, and that way there won’t be room inside your mind for the bad stuff. I know there are some with a vested interest in prolonging this misery for a long as possible, but remember pandemics always end one way or another, and even if the end doesn’t work out quite as we might like, this current one will end, and things will gradually get better.

Ending on a positive note, just writing this piece has helped lift my mood considerably and given me fresh encouragement to keep going and look for the light that must surely be there at the end of the tunnel.

 

 

Time to bury bad news, or just Matt Hancock?

Probably in keeping with most other beer writers, I’ve run out of things to write about. With the entire hospitality sector on hold, and all but essential travel on hold, there really isn’t much of merit to report on at the moment. The story below, which I saw on an Irish news site, did catch my eye though, so read on.

The news is that all major beer distributors in the Republic, are to cease supplying beer in kegs.  This is a move to counter the rise of “shebeens” – unlicensed premises where surprisingly large numbers of people were gathering for a drop of draught beer. As well as flaunting licensing regulations, such places were obviously in contravention of the country’s strict lock-down rules, although despite the increase in risk to public health, one can’t help a grudging admiration for Irish ingenuity. 

Kegs were on sale at cash & carries, something I have seen over here in the UK, so by cutting off the supply of draught, the authorities are clamping down on these illegal drinking dens. However, what’s to stop the people behind these places from stocking up with bottles and can from the supermarket (or even the local cash & carry), instead? 

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, “Try and make people moral, and you lay the grounds for vice.” Even if these rules are promoted under the guise of public health, people will still find a way around them, regardless of the consequences. Take a look at the USA during the era of Prohibition if you don’t believe me.

Returning to not having much to write about, I’ve been busy raking through the annals of this blog in order to find material for inclusion on my new website – Paul’s Beer Travels, in case you missed the previous article! I came up with apiece about the Rhineland city of Cologne, Köln in German, and its famous beer style known as Kölsch.

There was plenty I’d written previously that I could revamp and recycle, and if you head over to the website you can read all about Kölsch – the taste of Cologne. One reason I’d produced so much material is the fact I’ve made seven visits to the city, with five of them being for business reasons. These trips were made as part of a team manning our company trade stand at the International Dental Show (IDS).

This event, which takes place during March,  every other year, is by far the world’s largest dental show. It occupies several halls of the Köln Messe (the Cologne city exhibitions halls), and just about every company involved in the field of dentistry is normally there. Sadly, due to the ongoing Coronavirus pandemic, we won’t be exhibiting in 2021, having wisely taken the decision back in October, to cancel our space.

This year would have represented my final IDS, so the cancellation is particularly sad for me, but it is nothing compared to the impact the loss of tens of thousands of visitors will have on the local economy. The same can be said in respect of trade shows the world over, that have been forced to cancel in the wake of the pandemic. There are still doubts over the postponed Tokyo Olympics which, despite the bravado of the IOC, are looking increasingly in doubt.

From a personal viewpoint, it’s not the trade show itself that I will miss, it’s more the opportunities for socialisation in the evening, that it offers. Whilst these evenings might appear as nothing more than a “piss-up” to some people, they normally involve dining with customers and/or suppliers, and this is where relationships are strengthened, and the real deals often made. All the pundits expounding the virtues of “virtual“ Zoom meetings, forget the importance of face-to-face meetings in business negotiations, and if these get togethers are “lubricated” by more than a little alcohol, then so much the better!

A small ray of light is the news that the show has been rescheduled for the third week in September, but whether my company will bite the bullet and book a stand, remains to be seen, but one trip that is presumably off, is the already postponed visit to the Czech Republic in March. I haven’t heard from the organisers yet, but with much of northern and central Europe facing similar restrictions to us, the chances of this trip to Pilsen taking place, must be minimal.

This brings me on to the email I received yesterday, from Easy Jet, informing me that the voucher I received for last year’s cancelled flights can now be used. The voucher is only valid until the end of June, but the good news is that it can be used to book any future flights that are available at that point in time. A visit to either Germany or Czechia for early autumn, would therefore be good bet, always assuming that the government release us from our current misery!

Those words aren’t written completely in jest, as I remain deeply suspicious of the Department of Health’s motives on this. Today, that pimply, shifty-eyed excuse of a Health Minister Matt Hancock, threw into the ring, the ultimate caveat for extending lockdown indefinitely, by stating that his biggest concern was “yet to be discovered variants of the virus.”

Well hold on a minute matey – yes you with that awful pink tie! Viruses mutate all the time, with most new variants becoming less lethal. If Hancock is prepared to keep us locked down because he is afraid of something that MIGHT possibly happen in the future then, to quote Private Frazer, “We’re all doomed, doomed!”

Unfortunately, Mr Hancock is so far up his own backside, and so engrossed in believing his own rhetoric, that unless there’s a concerted opposition to this lunacy, we might just end up confined in our own houses for eternity. Don’t these clowns realise how absurd their pronouncements are?

Ignoring this overgrown public schoolboy, and returning, for a moment, to the subject of cancelled holidays, Mrs PBT’s and I have credit with Cunard, in respect of last spring’s canceled cruise. Cruising hasn’t re-started yet, so we will probably carry the credit over for a further year.

Cruise ships are notorious for the spread of things such as norovirus, and at the beginning of the current pandemic, several ended up as floating “plague hotels.” I’m not totally risk averse, but I think I’d rather wait until Coronavirus is well and truly under control, and preferably on its way out, before booking a cabin on a liner with a couple of thousand other potential plague carriers. You never know our friend at the DoH might just be right about that mutant variant!