A week is a long time in politics, as someone famously said.
I think it was that wily old devil,
Harold Wilson, whose surprise resignation
in
1976, shocked me, as a young student.
Prime Ministers didn’t resign, did
they? Well actually they did, and still do of course, although the number of
resignations amongst
Tory Prime Ministers – four since
2016, must be something
of a record. I saw
Harold Wilson once, in one of the tearooms at the
Houses of
Parliament.
It would take too much time to explain the reasons why
Mrs
PBT’s and I were in that auspicious place and wouldn’t be at all relevant to
the piece I am writing, but he looked wizened, and shrunken with age, the
unfortunate results of the condition that caused his resignation a decade and a
half earlier. The poor man was suffering from
Alzheimer’s, a condition that
afflicted, and ultimately killed, my own
father, and something I feel that many
of us secretly fear, as we grow older.
That’s enough morbidity for one article, but the analogy
used to describe how much can happen over seven days, in the seedy world of
politics, to illustrate that a week is also a long time in the world of a beer
writer. It depends on your reference point, of course, and if you’re a
dedicated
“pub ticker” like
Retired Martin, or
Simon Everit (BRAPA), then
visiting a dozen or so pubs, over the course of a week, is small beer, if
you’ll pardon the pun. Now I’ve only visited one pub, since my most recent
article, but there’s been a lot else going on in other areas of my life, some
of which involve plans for the future, whilst others are just plain old, run
the mill, stuff, associated with an, at times, mundane existence.
So, at the risk of appearing like Boak & Bailey, with
their weekly, Saturday morning write-up, here in no particular order, are a few
things that have been happening in the world of Paul. Some of you will know
that a switch of roles at work, following my decision to go part-time, saw me
taking on the mantle of company Safety Advisor. Without bragging, I’ve made a
lot of progress, although as I started from a rather low baseline, there remains,
still much to do. Since November, I’ve become increasingly involved with the
firm’s much vaunted, “expansion project,” a plan that was seriously derailed by
the appearance of COVID, during the first quarter of 2020.
In the absence of anyone else, I’ve become the company’s de
facto
Site Manager, a role that sees me dealing with all sorts of diverse, but
often interrelated issues. Alarm systems (both fire and intruder), is just one
aspect, as are areas such as air-conditioning, heating, the phone system, waste
collection, which includes the safe disposal of expired products and raw materials. The
kick-start to the expansion project, has seen me dealing with various
contractors, including several builders, and with my
H&S hat
on, the need
to conduct risk assessments, prepare safe methods of working, plus the issue of
PTW’s (Permits to Work), for some of the more high-risk activities.
Never a dull moment then, but to top this, our sales team
have asked me to join them on the stand, at the major
International Dental Show (IDS), which
returns to the
Rhineland city of
Cologne, after a four year hiatus, thanks to
COVID. It was in preparation for this show, that saw me taking the bus over to
Tunbridge Wells, yesterday, with the express purpose of buying a new pair of
(smart),
black shoes, and therein lies a tale. I bought some black shoes last
May, primarily to wear with my suit, during our
Norwegian cruise. This was only
for the onboard, formal evenings, and as things turned out, we only attended
one of these
“stuffed shirt” events.
The shoes themselves were comfortable, so I wore them to
work, alternating them with my other, brown pair. Now I do a fair amount of
walking, both around the site -see above, but also at lunchtimes, when I head
off on my regular
Chiddingstone-Charcott walk, but even so, I didn’t’ expect
the soles to split. This defect only really became evident during last month’s
business trip to
Dundee, and whilst rain was perhaps expected, north of the
border, wet feet were not, and after walking the short distance from the car-park to the conference centre, the defect affecting my footwear was only too
apparent. Wet feet, means cold feet, and an unhappy
Paul, so the situation
obviously needed rectifying.
Mrs PBT’s said it served me right for buying a
cheap pair –
Shoe Zone, being the
High Street retailer at fault here.
I have to admit she is right, as both of us often castigate
our son for the increasingly large pile of defective shoes, that he has purchased,
over the years, from
Shoe Zone, but even so, I would expect rather more wear
from my foot wear than just seven months. I therefore grabbed the bull by the
horns and headed to
Clarks. “You get what you pay for,” as my wife always says
and, as I’m sure I’ve reported on before, my parents were avid promoters for
decent footwear, and both swore by
Clarks, as a quality manufacturer and
retailer.
We now come, at last, to the beer related part, as my bus
journey to
Tunbridge Wells, allowed me to call in at
Fuggles Bottle Shop, as
well as the company’s excellent beer café. So after trying on and purchasing a
new pair of smart, back shoes, I headed off to the
Bottle Shop, which is just a
short distance away, in
Camden Road. The shop looked as if it had received a
makeover since my visit last year, but with a number of fridges packed full of
bottles and cans, plus an array of taps offering draft craft keg to takeaway,
by the litre, I was spoiled for choice. I had already made my mind up, having
looked online the night before, so opted for three choice
Bavarian strong,
bottled beers to enjoy over a couple of chilly evenings.
Mission accomplished, I headed along to
Fuggles Beer Café,
which is just past the town's main
Post Office. Opened in
2013, the
Tunbridge Wells
outlet is where it all started for Fuggles. Whilst I’m a fairly regular visitor
to the Tonbridge outlet, it’s been quite a few years since I last called in at
the company’s original beer café, so I was quite surprised (pleasantly) at just
how busy the place was. Granted it was late afternoon, at the end of the week,
but there was a good mix of customers, and a real buzz about the place.
I approached the bar, pleased to see that the
Good King Henry Special Reserve, from the
Old Chimneys Brewery, was on tap, as promised
on
Fuggles website and
Facebook page, the previous day. This
10% Imperial Stout
is something of a rarity, and is now brewed at
Grain Brewery, under the
supervision of Alan Thompson, who founded and ran, the
Old Chimneys Brewery
between
1995 and
2019. Like the (in)famous
Westvleteren 12°, ranked
as best beer in the world by RateBeer, GKH is one of those beers that most
people haven’t heard of. Despite this low profile, it apparently is the only
British beer to feature in the RateBeer top 50.
Call me a philistine, but such rankings mean little to me, and
certainly don’t impress, but having said that, and seeing this potent stout on
sale, from hand-pump, right in front of me, meant it would have been rude not to
try a glass – except I didn’t, at least not straight away. To start with I
needed a beer that was pale, hoppy and refreshing, especially after having
completed a small section of the
Tunbridge Wells Circular Walk, that morning.
My attention was drawn to
Comfort Zone, a
3.8% beer from
Bone Machine Brew Co.
Asked by the barman if I wanted a straight glass or a jug, I opted for the
latter, the second occasion I have done such a thing in
Fuggles.
After paying for my beer, I manged to find a small vacant table at
the rear of the pub and sat down to enjoy my beer. It lived up to expectations,
so my pint didn’t last long. There was only one thing for it afterwards, and
that was to go for the GKH, but only a third mind you, seeing as this was a 10%
beer. As you can se from the photo, the beer looks rather lost in the bottom of
that rather strange “house” glass. What the stout lacked in quantity, it more
than made up in quality, being dense, dark and delicious, with an underlying
intense sweetness reminiscent of a fine dessert wine. Some beer lovers have compared
it to Harvey’s Prince of Denmark, a beer that I enjoyed over the Christmas
period, but as the latter only weighs in at 7.5%, it is difficult to make such comparisons.
