The road to recovery leads to beer

Spoiler alert, just like the previous post, there is very little in this article that relates directly to beer, although the good news is that I’m starting to feel a lot better than I did mid-week when I drafted that particular piece. It’s still “man flu” as far as Mrs PBT’s is concerned, especially as she has largely shaken off her bout of the lurgy, but at least she isn’t blaming me for bringing the infection into the house.

We ventured out, earlier today, just for a shopping trip over to Kings Hill (West Malling), but both perhaps mindful that we’ve done very little in the way of Christmas preparations. More about that later, but on the plus side, I finally managed to pick up a few cans of that Forged Dry Irish Stout I wrote about back in August. There was just a few, slightly tired looking four packs of the beer, lurking in the beer aisle at ASDA’s Kings Hill supermarket, which was more of a surprise than anything else.

I only discovered the cans, after leaving Eileen at the checkout queue, and doubling back to the alcohol section, not quite on a whim, but more so because I remembered that ASDA was the UK grocery chain chosen by brand founder and owner Conor McGregor, for the launch of this new entrant to the stout market, on this side of the Irish Sea. Rather than repeat the story behind Forged Irish Stout, and the involvement of its “colourful” MMA fighter, and founder, the link here will take you to the article from 10^th August, which attracted 90 page views, but zero comments.

Perhaps I’m being churlish by describing the product launch as over-hyped, but I have looked for the beer in several other ASDA stores and drawn a complete blank. For the record, Forged Stout is undoubtedly a very good beer, although whether it’s poised to take the Dry Irish Stout mantle away from Guinness, is open to question. Instead, I would argue the case for Black Heart Draught from BrewDog, a beer which is receiving far more in terms of promotion and presence within UK supermarkets than an upstart from across the Irish Sea.

Moving on, the carpet fitters have finally finished the job, and for the first time since the beginning of October, when we departed for our Mediterranean cruise, we can walk up and down the stairs without waking those on either side of us. It’s not until you’re without a particular facility or feature, that you realise just how much you miss it, and hobbling up and down the creaking bare boards of a 90-year-old staircase certainly wasn’t the most joyous experience in the world.

Given the daily traffic up and down a staircase, and the disruption involved in painting the surrounding wall and ceilings, it made perfect sense to call in the decorators whilst we were out of the country for an extended period. We’d instructed the tradesmen to remove the rather worn carpet from the stairs, landing and hallway, although three weeks later when we returned from holiday, the starkness of the bare wooden floors and stair treads came as something of a shock, especially when viewed against the freshly painted walls and ceiling.

I contacted a well-known national chain carpet store, and they arranged for a surveyor to call at the end of the week. Mrs PBT’s chose the carpet, we paid the bill and expected to hear from a fitter within a few weeks. Those “few” weeks dragged on into a month and a half, and if I hadn’t phoned the company, we’d probably still be walking up and down a carpet less staircase. The girl I spoke to in customer services had somehow mixed-up Tonbridge with nearby Tunbridge Wells – she excused herself by saying she was from Essex, nuff said, but somewhere along the line the company had obviously mislaid our order.

To cut a long story short, the father and son team of carpet fitters arrived mid-afternoon on Thursday, cut and laid the carpet for the hall and landing, but had to return the following day to complete the stairs. This was because the carpet was too cold, having come straight from the warehouse, and this meant it wouldn’t flex sufficiently to fit snuggly around the alternate 90° angles of a slight of stairs. You'd never have thought carpet laying could be so technical, but it does make perfect sense when you think abut it. The fitters did a first-class job, and it’s hard to describe the joy felt from walking up and down a newly carpeted staircase. That’s another job crossed off from a slowly dwindling “must do” list, and its completion has come at just the right moment.

I returned to work this morning, and there are now just two more working days for me before the lengthy Christmas shutdown. I’ve only has a couple of beers over the past 10 days, the last one being a bottle of Fuller’s excellent London Porter. At the moment tea and coffee have more of an appeal, but as the week goes on, I fully expect to be indulging once again in a glass or two of the finest hopped, malt beverages.

Since returning from the cruise, and prior to picking up this bug, I’d began drinking my way through a few of the Oktoberfest Biers I bought from Lidl, back in September – see Wiesn-Tragerl from Kalea. So far, they’ve been malt-driven, quite sweet in taste, and with a noticeable touch of ethyl alcohol on the palate.  This is perhaps not entirely surprising, given that most of these beers have abv’s of between 5.5 & 6.5 %, and this matches the experience of many beer drinkers. Here, the consensus is that an abv of around 5% is the ideal strength for a quaffing beer, especially when the beer is a pale-coloured lager.

This is a statement I not only agree with but is one which matches my own experience of enjoying beer over half a century. Discovering that the 6.0% beers served up at the legendary Franconian Annafest, were only sold in litre measures did make the event far more of a challenge than it should have been, and if I’m brutally honest, less enjoyable than I’d been anticipating. My Annafest experience happened 10 years ago, with most of our visits to the Kellerwald taking place during daylight hours.

During the evening, it was refreshing to take the bus back down into the town of Forchheim and enjoy a few “normal” strength beers in one of the local pubs, along with a bite to eat. I suppose though, that when you’re part of a crowd, swaying along with the music, whilst chugging a large earthenware mug of strong Festbier, you don’t really notice yourself becoming more and more intoxicated as the session wears on.

 Hey now, let’s not become too moralistic over this, because events such as Annafest and the far better-known Munich Oktoberfest (similar high strength beers and litre measures are the order of the day at the Wiess’n), are about letting ones hair down, joining in with the spirit of the event, and generally having a god time in the company of similarly intoxicated revellers, many of whom you won’t have met until an hour or so before hand.

So, on that note, and with dreams and fond memories of time spent in Bavaria and Franconia, it’s time to draw this narrative to an end, and time too for an early night, spent dreaming of such things. "Zum Wohl" as the Germans would say!

Indisposed and generally under the weather

I’ve been taking things easy for the past few days, especially when it comes to beer. A touch of man flu is the cause, and it hasn’t been particularly pleasant. It's obviously woman flu as well because Mrs PBT's has also being affected, so does this make it gender neutral, or non-binary flu? Gender neutral flu, perhaps, or non-gender specific flu? or just plain flu, except it obviously isn't influenza, as both of us  received our flu vaccinations, back in the autumn. It's been lingering on though, as it's now approaching the two week mark from the time when I first became aware of its presence. 

I’m pretty certain I picked this particular bug up from work, where it’s been doing the rounds, having been brought home from school by one or perhaps two colleagues young enough to have kids of a certain age. In the end, this was the situation that persuaded my sister to abandon a career in the classroom, becasue she invariably came home with something nasty! Unfortunately, this particular incarnation of the common cold is very persistent and had been dragging on a long time. It’s the type of strain of upper respiratory tract infection, that lulls you into a false sense of security, because just when you think it’s on the way out, it rebounds back, with an increased ferocity.

Fortunately, neither of us have much going on at present, as it’s the classic "calm before the storm" moment – the storm being Christmas, if I’m allowed to say the "C" word with 12 days still to go before the so-called "Big Day."  Fingers crossed this unwelcome seasonal pestilence is on its way out, but apart from a visit to the podiatrist, plus dragging myself into work, I've largely been confined to quarters. This “break from the norm” has given me the chance to catch on some reading, put various papers etc in order, and re-start my hunt for a replacement vehicle, but on the downside, I've been seriously off my beer!

Tonight, I pinched a can of Mrs PBT’s Guinness Draught 0.0, and I have to say that this smooth, and full-bodied, alcohol-free, dry Irish stout, is very palatable. I was in trouble though for helping myself, even though I said I’d buy her another pack. "I don’t go helping myself to your beer," was her response, and she does have a point, but all joking aside, Guinness have got it right with this temperance version of their iconic beer, right down to the nitro-pour can.

Given my part-time hours at work, there are now only four working days before the factory shuts down for the long, festive-season break, or what American readers would call the “holidays.” I‘m not sure how long companies, or government organisations in the US shut down for over the Christmas period, although I do know there’s no tradition such as “Boxing Day.” My brother-in-law, on the other side of the Atlantic, is retired now, so him and my sister are now enjoying the extended leisure time that comes from no longer “working for the man.”

Looking ahead, I’ve got 12 days of leisure, before heading back to the office on 2^nd January 2024, so how to use that time wisely? There’s the aforementioned car search, and having narrowed down my choice to make, model, fuel-type, engine size, age, and affordability – those things are all connected, the only painful thing will be enduring the over-inflated sales pitch, the attempts as selling me “gap insurance”, paintwork-protection coating, and all the other “add-ons” that bump up the price, and the salesperson’s commission. As a cash buyer, I should have plenty of bargaining power, although I don’t intend om passing lightly with my hard-earned cash.

As for the main event, there will just be the three of us, as those days of extended, and sometimes fraught days of extended family get-togethers are long gone. I’ve pre-ordered a fresh turkey crown, as I do every year, and Mrs PBT’s will no doubt cook it the day before. I’m trying to talk her out of buying a ham as well, as it’s too much, as far as I’m concerned, especially with a rather large bird to chomp our way through. As in most years, I’ve accumulated quite a stash of beer, mainly bottles, and including some old favourites, including London Porter and 1845 from Fullers, Proper Job from St Austell, and Pilsner Urquell from the city of Plzen itself. There are plenty of other “interesting” beers to work my way through, including Belgian Trappists Rochefort and Westmalle, St Bernardus – including the latter's  Christmas Ale, and whilst on that subject, a couple of bottles of Harvey’s wonderful Christmas Ale, plus a Bonfire Boy or two, from the same brewery. In short, I shan’t go thirsty, and what I lack in quantity, I shall make up in quality.

There was a time when a polypin of traditional cask ale was a must, in the Bailey household, but I did find that having to drink my way through 36 pints of the same beer, ended up as a chore in the end, and those last few pints were nowhere near as enjoyable as the first few. In other years I’ve gone for the 5-litre/9-pint mini-casks, and there’s still every possibility I shall treat myself to one filled with Larkin’s Porter.

The other great festive-season tradition is a ramble, not necessarily on Boxing Day, but instead a cross-country hike with a group of friends, traversing some picturesque countryside and then ending up at an unspoilt country pub. Unfortunately, the weather has put paid to such activities for the past few Christmases, and I’ve a feeling that this year’s meteorological conditions, aren’t going to be any better. That’s a real shame, as catching up with friends, post-Christmas, in a classic rural retreat, has always been for me, one of the highlights of the season. And speaking of rambles and cross-country hikes in general, previous years saw me completing the North Downs Way, long-distance footpath.

Last year’s aim of hiking the Tunbridge Wells Circular Walk, didn’t come off, despite it only being 26 miles in length. A delayed start, due to atrocious weather conditions, lead to a loss of momentum, even before the start. This, combined with a poorly signposted route, and a guidebook that assumed the reader knew exactly where he or she is going, curbed my dwindling enthusiasm, but leaving out the excuses, there is no reason for me not to complete the TWCW in 2004. 

Tomorrow, we’re expecting out new stairs carpet to finally be delivered and laid. We’ve waited in excess of six weeks for Carpetright to get the wheels in motion, and none of us can wait to have some nice new carpet fitted to our stairs, hall, and landing. The house has seemed very empty with just the bare floorboards and stair tread to look at, as we had the old carpet removed by the decorating team we engaged, whilst we were away on the cruise. It transpires that Carpetright somehow managed to mislay our order - if you’ll excuse the pun, but the bare stairs in particular creak and groan when walked on, but given the age of the property (1930’s), this is not exactly surprising,

Finally, and whilst on the subject of decorating, the Bailey family is pretty minimalist when it comes to Christmas decorations, so no decking the halls with boughs of holly for us. What we do have are a couple of “Starburst” light projectors, one for the front and the other for the rear of the house. These clever devices, project a series of multi-coloured laser lights onto any suitable, vertical surface. In our case, this is the front or rear walls of the house. The pattern varies thanks to a slow-spinning disk in the lamp housing, and if, like us, your house had white-painted walls, you can enjoy your very own changing light show, without having to climb up a ladder, or string ropes of coloured bulbs from one branch to the next.

"Simples", as the meerkats would say, and simple to erect and just as simple to take down. Life’s hard enough at times, so why not take the occasional short cut, and leave time for the more important and enjoyable things in life.

Macclesfield - revisited Pt. 2

As promised here is the write-up about the “missing” Macclesfield pub – the one I saved until last. As well as writing about the town’s Jolly Sailor, I was also going to describe the trials and tribulations I endured in getting to Macclesfield, a process that was far more challenging on the homeward journey but have decided against this. Leaving out the gory details of cancelled, non-running or delayed trains, what my day on the rails did expose was the fragility of the UK’s rail system, and the knock-on effects that occur, when something goes wrong.

We have seen record investment in the nation’s railways since the bad old days of the Thatcher government, when there was serious talk of adopting one of the more crack-pot ideas proposed by the 1983 Serpell Report. This seriously suggested slashing the UK’s rail network to just 1,630 miles of track, and I recall an even more ludicrous proposal to concrete over many commuter lines, and replace them with guided bus-ways - like that's ever worked!

Billed as the second Beeching Report, Serpell’s recommendations were quietly dropped and shunted into the sidings, in the run up to a general election. Fortunately, since then, successive governments have realised the value to the nation of a modern and efficient rail system, although the botched privatisation of British Rail by the government of John Major, did see a significant amount of the investment being syphoned off by non-contributory, private companies.

Leaving aside the inadequacies imposed by Major’s fragmented system, and looking back at the days when British Rail was a national joke (a very unfair accusation given the restraints BR was operating under), today’s railway would be totally unrecognisable to a traveller from the 1980’s, particularly when it comes to the appearance, comfort and overall high design standards of the modern rolling stock which runs over the tracks as we approach the second quarter of the 21^st century.

The major problem seems one of overcrowding, An issue that affects the northern half of the country, more than the south, and I saw this for myself last Tuesday, when I somehow managed to squeeze myself onto the late running, Cross Country trains connection from Stafford to Macclesfield. The train was already rammed when it pulled into Stafford, meaning myself, plus a dozen or so other passengers had to stand squeezed into narrow vestibule, at the end of carriage next to the toilet. Fortunately, it was only 30 minutes’ worth of discomfort, but was still not a pleasant experience.

Returning to the main event, which was the third pub (for me), on our tour of Macclesfield.  I’d heard good things about the town’s Jolly Sailor, and in particular its well-kept Draught Bass. As you might be aware from previous “Proper Days Out,” such as Burton and Bath in particular, the legendary cask ale that is Draught Bass, and the one which big-meany, global brewer, In-Bev keeps trying to kill off, is making something of a comeback. Local Bass connoisseur, Ian Thurman, a fellow blogger who I had the pleasure of meeting 3 ½ years ago in Burton-on-Trent (the original home of Bass), has compiled and maintains the Draught Bass Pub Directory, which lists all known stockists of this legendary beer.

Ian’s directory might well be a labour of love, but it’s also an invaluable tool for locating outlets where drinkers can obtain a pint of Bass. The directory is six pages long, and as might be expected, the majority of the pubs stocking it are in the midlands, with counties such as Derbyshire, Leicestershire and Staffordshire leading the way. Other areas that have historically been Bass strongholds, such as the West Country, parts of Wales, Manchester, and Greater London, also feature prominently, but sadly, my home county of Kent now only has one regular outlet, in the form of the Miners’ Arms, Dunton Green, near Sevenoaks.

Draught Bass is available in two Macclesfield pubs, the Waters Green Tavern being the second outlet. The availability of reduced-price rail tickets, plus the aforementioned delays, meant I was unable to make the midday starting time at this pub, so it will have to wait for another day, but the Jolly Sailor was well and truly open when our group called in, after our brief visit to the Queens. Described by What Pub, as “a much-improved cosy town centre pub renowned for one of the best pints of Bass around,” the Jolly Sailor is essentially an open plan, single room pub, which is divided into four distinct areas. Six hand-pumps can be found on the central bar serving two permanent beers, one of which is Bass, and up to four guests.

Comfy sofas, intermingled with more traditional seating plus a roaring log fire, combine to create that increasing rarity, a traditional town boozer. The pub is located in the heart of Macclesfield and is only a few minutes walking distance from both the train and bus stations. The open fire, surrounded by comfy chairs, where customers can warm themselves on a cold winters day, is quite rightly, the most popular place in the pub, and our party of five was lucky to have bagged that spot. I thought I detected a few words of disappointment from a group of punters who came in a short time after us. So, with pints all round, of top-quality Draught Bass all round, plus that welcoming open fire, the Jolly Sailor was definitely one of the highlights of Tuesday’s visit.

It was getting dark by the time we left the pub, and as you will be aware from the previous articles, there were two further pubs left to visit. The Silk Trader, in particular was disappointing, and compared against the Jolly Sailor and the Castle, the Wharf wasn’t a lot better. It was whilst in the latter that I discovered the distribution to rail services, which could potentially affect my journey home. This came after checking live train departures on the National Rail website, so I decided it would be prudent to make my way back to the station.

The Cross-Country train from Macclesfield was fine, this time around, and it wasn’t until I alighted at Stafford that the fun started. Both West Midlands services I could have used were cancelled, nut fortunately, an Avanti staff member, present on the platform informed me that I could use one of their trains, and advised me which would be the most direct. He also assured me my ticket would be valid on Avanti trains, in view of the West Midlands cancellations. There was also disruption heading in a different direction, so station staff has laid on a replacement bus service, for travellers heading that way.

Full marks then to the Avanti staff, and full marks to for their fast, comfortable, and not overly crowded that transported me back to Euston. I had known in advance that rail travel might be somewhat hit and miss that Tuesday, as although the south east of the country was not directly affected by the ongoing, rolling strikes by ASLEF train drivers, there was an ongoing ban on overtime and rest day working. As it happened, there was some disruption, but things still worked out OK, and after an uneventful cross-London tube journey to Charing Cross, I was on the train back to Tonbridge shortly after 10pm.

So, despite a few travel hiccups on the travel front, and not managing to track down some Old Tom, Tuesday’s "Proper Day Out" in Macclesfield certainly live up to expectations. It was good too, to catch up with what is effectively the northern contingent of the Beer & Pubs Forum, and to enjoy their company as we experienced several classic, town pubs.

Macclesfield - revisited Pt. 1

Last Tuesday I enjoyed a really good, “Proper Day Out” when I visited the north-east Cheshire town of Macclesfield. It was only my second visit to Maccy in 40 years, although it’s a place I often travelled through, by train, as a student at Salford Uni, on visits back to Kent. This time around I was due to meet up with a select band of connoisseurs from the Beer & Pubs Forum, a group hosted by Tapatalk, where the plan was to visit a half-dozen or so of Macclesfield’s best pubs, close to the town’s station.

The high cost of train travel initially put me off from attending, but further online exploration and a second dalliance with “Split-Ticketing” brought the cost of a return ticket from Tonbridge, down to a manageable £53. My “Old Git’s” Railcard helped as well, but what didn’t assist was the continuing “industrial action” by the train drivers’ union, which led to a day of cancellations and travel disruption. No matter, I got there and back without too much hassle, and it was good to meet up with some familiar faces and people who were much more familiar with Macclesfield and its pubs, than I am.

The day didn’t get off to a flying start when I couldn’t find my woolly hat, but rather than spend too much time looking for it, I left the house hat-less and with the thought that Maccy would be cold, given its location close to the Peak District. Chaos on the London Underground was another issue, forcing me to take a rather roundabout, diversionary route to Euston, but I still arrived there in plenty of time, only to find my Avanti West Coast train was 12 minutes late in departing.

My Split-Ticket meant having to leave the fast and comfortable mainline train at Stafford, and switch to a Cross Country service to Macclesfield. That train was also running late, but more annoyingly, was absolutely rammed.  I managed to squeeze myself on, and then stood in a group of equally squashed passengers in the space at the end of one of the carriages, next to the toilet. Nice! Fortunately, it was only 30 minutes’ worth of discomfort, which was nothing compared to the lady I stood next to had endured. She had boarded the train somewhere in the West Country and was heading up to Whitehaven in Cumbria.

I wished her well, as left the train at Maccy, glad to have escaped the mele of the overcrowded train, and headed off into the town, keen to meet up with the rest of the group and get stuck into my first beer. I was slightly disoriented when I left the station, and nearly headed off in the wrong direction, but Google Maps soon put me right, and it wasn’t far to the pre-arranged second pub of the day (I had already advised via  Tapatalk, that I couldn’t make the starting point).

This was the Castle, tucked away on a bend, down a narrow, cobbled, side street, just a short distance from the town’s main shopping area. It is an untouched, and timeless example of an old-fashioned town boozer that quite rightly features on CAMRA Inventory of pubs having a nationally important historic interior. It is thought that the Castle started life as a row of late 18^th Century cottages which were subsequently remodelled into today’s multi-roomed pub. Given the choice of different rooms one could quite easily lost, but once through the front door, I had little difficulty in tracking down the “advanced party.”

In order to buy a beer, it was necessary to visit the centrally located hatch bar, which allows service to several different rooms, although not to the one where the group was sitting. Pavo Pale Ale from Manchester based, Squawk Brewing Co was my pint of choice, and this pale and well-hopped didn’t disappoint, in fact it hardly touched the sides and was just what was needed after standing in a cramped and rather warm train corridor. I spent the time catching up with the day’s participants, who were, Pub Curmudgeon, Stafford Paul, Sheffield Hatter, and Retired Martin.

The latter pair sloped off for lunch at a different venue, but with an alternative pit stop in mind for myself and the two Mudgies, there was time for a look around the Castle, before moving on. To the right, as one enters, is a tiny vault, with a narrow lounge on the left. This was where the five of us sat, after my arrival. Past the bar is another lounge on the right, plus at the far end there is a larger, raised area. Attractive, open fire places feature in three of the rooms, and these, combined with the leaded windows, moulded plaster ceilings, copper-topped tables, and old-fashioned bell pushes, give a lovely, cosy, and homely feel to this classic, heritage pub. As I am attempting to visit as many pubs as possible on CAMRA’s list of Historic Pub Interiors, the Castle with its three-star rating, was a worthy addition to my quest.

The next pub was a complete contrast, but in order to reach it we had to first climb the hill up to a street, which appeared to be one of Macclesfield’s main shopping thoroughfares, before descending at the far end, past the bus station.  Alfreds, a modern, town centre café-bar, appears to have had several incarnations, but following a refurbishment last year has traded under its current name (minus the possessive “S”). It now belongs to Hydes, a long-established family-owned, Manchester brewery whose beers I remember with affection.

Times change, and whilst Hydes remain family-owned, and still trading, they now operate from a new, state of the art brewery, in Salford’s Media City. The beer range too has been revamped, although it still includes a couple of favourites that I remember from my time in the Manchester area. Hopster, a 3.8% zesty, blonde ale, is a new addition to the range and proved an excellent accompaniment to my lunch of cod, chips, and mushy peas. The two Mudgies and I parked ourselves at a convenient table, looking out across the bright, spacious, and airy interior of this popular new addition to Macclesfield’s town centre, and settled down to enjoy our respective menu choices.

We’d arranged to meet Martin and Will at 2.30 pm at the Queen’s, an imposing, red-brick, Holt’s pub, opposite the station, but in reality, it was nearer 3pm by the time we arrived. As the advanced party were already well stuck into their pints, most of us opted for half pints of the sole cask offering – Holt’s Bitter. I’d renewed my acquaintance with this legendary Manchester brewery’s beers on a couple recent trips to the local area (Manchester & Stockport), so felt I wasn’t missing too much by sticking with a half. I was also feeling rather full, following my ample, lunchtime meal.

It wasn’t far to pub No. 3, but we’re going to skip that one, until next time. This isn’t because the pub wasn’t any good, as on the contrary it was excellent. Instead, we’re passing on it for now because it was almost two good, and so much so, that a few lines at the end of this article wouldn’t do it justice at all. 

 

Pub No. 4 was halfway up a hill, on the other side of the rail tracks, but still only a short hop from the centre of Maccy. The Silk Trader, named in honour of the silk spinning industry that the town was once famous for, is a Robinson’s house that has undergone the full company refurb, and if you don’t know what that entails, then ask Pub Curmudgeon.  

 

The pub was selected as a potential source of Robinson’s Old Tom, the legendary dark ale, named after Tom, the brewery cat, and almost as old as the company itself. Brewed to an abv of 8.5%, this potent, barley wine is available in bottled form all year round, and makes an appearance in cask form, each winter, in selected Robinson houses. The Silk Trader was thought to be a good bet for a glass of cask Old Tom, but sadly, it was not to be. Instead, we had to make do with a choice of either Unicorn or Trooper.

The former was formerly known as Robinson’s Best Bitter, whereas Trooper is a beer developed in collaboration with heavy metal rock group, Iron Maiden. I wasn’t sure whether I’d drank this beer before, although I was obviously familiar with Unicorn, when it was known as Best Bitter.  My Untappd listing described Trooper as a refreshing and hop-dominated, golden beer, and it’s a brew that has obviously been a success, for both Robinson’s, and Iron Maiden vocalist, Bruce Dickinson, who helped the brewery develop the beer. Our group sat in an area at the right of the entrance, and away from the bar, where the lighting was rather subdued. A request to increase the intensity, seemed to fall on deaf ears.

With time ticking on it was time to move on to the final pub of the day, which was just a block or so further, up the hill from the Silk Trader. The Wharf turned out to be a pleasant free house, offering a range of four cask ales, all brewed in Yorkshire. For me it was a choice of either the Ossett Yorkshire Blonde, or Barnsley Gold from Acorn Brewery. I opted for the latter, in memory of two people I used to know who originated from the famous South Yorkshire, former mining town. It was a pleasant enough beer, but by this time I had other things on my mind.

As the afternoon slowly wore on into evening, I had been checking my phone for travel updates on the trains home. A spate of cancellations indicated that the sooner I left Macclesfield, the better my chances were of getting home that night. There was only myself plus the two Mudgies left in the pub by this time, Will and Martin having departed earlier, so looking at my watch and realising the train for Stafford departed in 20 minutes time, I thanked Peter and Paul for their company, hurriedly said goodbye, and hot-footed it to Macclesfield station.  Fortunately, it was downhill for most of the way, and I managed to catch my train without having to break into a sweat.

As hinted earlier, there’s more to come about my visit to Maccy, the trials and tribulations associated with train travel during a period of industrial unrest, and, most importantly the other amazing pub we found in the town, that was every bit s good as the first one (Castle). To be continued.

 

Pre-loading before the firm's Christmas bash

Friday 1^st December, saw me in Tunbridge Wells, ahead of a Christmas Party invitation. It’s that time of year, and whilst many will think it far too early to be thinking of the festering season, my firm thought otherwise – or at least some female members of staff did. That might sound slightly sexist, but in my 40 years + experience of such events, it is invariably the ladies who like to plan and organise these get-togethers. There was one memorable year though, when myself and the works engineer, sorted out the party arrangements, but that was only because it allowed us to visit potential venues to check out what was on offer. In pre-internet days, this was often the only way of organising the Christmas Party.

I digress, but this year’s bash broke with protocol by plumping for an evening event, at a different location. Covid aside, for the majority of my 17 years with the company, our Christmas party/meal has taken place at the Little Brown Jug, a large, but cosy and comfortable pub just 10 minutes’ walk along the road, from our factory in Chiddingstone Causeway. The “Jug” is also directly opposite Penshurst railway station – an important consideration for those indulging in a glass or three of something inebriating, with their festive meal.

We have tried various combinations of afternoon or evening events, the latter having the advantage of extending the invitation to the spouses or partners of staff members. However, as the company has grown in size, we have reverted to a mid-afternoon event reserved solely for employees. The Little Brown Jug has invariably laid on a sumptuous, and almost gut-busting, three-course meal for us, and to my mind there was little need to change. Other voices prevailed though, which meant the search was on for an alternative venue. To cut a long story short, we opted for a pub-cum-restaurant in Tunbridge Wells, and for an evening function, and that is why I found myself in Tunbridge Wells, last Friday.

With a 5pm meet-up at the restaurant, I potentially had several hours to enjoy, but after deciding that with an open bar tab at the party venue, I would need to pace myself as far as drink was concerned, I left it until just before 3 pm before taking the train over to the Wells. On arriving in the town, I made my way up from the station towards the main shopping area, primarily because I wanted to stop off at the bank. From there it was just a short hop to Allkin Tap & Bottle, at the far end of Calverley Road. This recently opened establishment is a welcome addition to the local beer scene in Tunbridge Wells, and the people behind the place are Allkin Brewery, who are based in Eridge, which is just a few miles across the border into Sussex.

Allkin Brewing started life as “Good Things Brewing” back in 2018. The brewery was housed in an attractive 17^th Century barn, next door to the family home, and by generating their own electricity, drawing up their own bore hole water, re-using waste products from the brewing process and delivering beer in their own electric van, established itself as the most sustainable brewery in the UK. Things were working out fine, and the even managed to survive lock-down, until on Sunday 25^th July 2021, the brewery was tragically struck by lightning and burnt to the ground.

A period of crowdfunding then followed and has resurfaced as Allkin Brewing Company. I’m not sure if the new brewery is up and running yet, or whether some of the beers are currently contract-brewed, although looking at the website, I suspect the latter situation applies. Looking for a place to showcase their beers, the company acquired a former shop unit at the far end of Calverley Road, Tunbridge Wells, which they opened as the Allkin Tap & Bottle six months or so ago. Initially, opening was restricted to Thursday to Sunday, but recently was extended to seven days a week.

I knew the local CAMRA branch had been keeping an eye on the place, and I had seen some good reports about it on one of the WhatsApp groups. It was no surprise then to find a couple of West Kent CAMRA members sitting there, at a table next to the window, when I walked in on Friday. They were probably surprised to see me, as I don’t get over that much to Tunbridge Wells, but after exchanging a few pleasantries, I ordered myself a beer, and joined then at their table. I’d taken the trouble earlier, to select a couple of beers from the Tap’s website, and started off with Flip the Bird, a 4.5% pale ale from Allkin. It was a keg beer, in common with most of the other beers at the tap. A total of 15 keg lines serves up a mix of beers and ciders from approved brewers, based throughout the UK, but a single cask beer is dispensed by hand pump. The choice of beer changes weekly, to ensure the freshest beer is always available.

I switched to cask for the second beer, and this was Plateau from Burning Sky Brewery, who are based close to the village of Firle, in the shadow of the South Downs. Apart from me plus my two CAMRA companions, there was only a handful of people in the Tap, but as the afternoon drew on, the place started filling up. The pub interior is long and slim with bench and stool seating, looking towards the bar counter and serving area to the right of the building. It seemed quite canine friendly, with canines of varying breeds and descriptions, present, along with their human owners/handlers.

Food, at the moment, seems limited to cold meats, pate, and cheeses, in the same vein really as nearby Fuggles. My companions were enjoying some sort of spread on artisan bread, but I had a meal waiting for me, just down the road. With this in mind, I polished off my final beer, a half of London Black Porter from Ansbach & Hobday, said goodbye to my companions, and set off back down the hill, towards the station.

The venue hosting our Christmas celebration was the Barn, a rebuild of an old barn using some of the original beams and bricks, which lies just off Mount Pleasant in the middle of town and a short walk from the station. There’s not a huge amount to report, on the venue, or the meal, so I shall save that particular pleasure for another day.