A Christmas catch-up

Well, that's Christmas nearly over for another year, and as in previous years I can't say I'm sorry to see the back of it was not I don't particularly dislike the festival, but what I do detest is the commercialism, the precious to buy things, and the false bonhomie associated with Christmas and in particular the cheesy Christmas songs. Andy Williams may have thought it “The most wonderful time of the year,” Dean Martin might have wanted it to keep snowing, Nat King Cole was roasting his chestnuts by an open fire, and as Perry Como observed, it was "beginning to look a lot like Christmas."

These artists of course, were all American, and therefore tended to have different expectations from what, for some inexplicable reason, they call the "holidays." Mind you it could be worse, as here in the UK, we have Noddy Holder hanging up his stocking or, bottom of the pile, Roy Wood, "Wishing it could be Christmas every day." No thanks, in fact I can't think of anything worse!

Nowadays, extended family Christmas celebrations tend to be a thing of the past, thankfully, and I tend to view them as some sort of intermediary between the family Christmases I knew as a child, when it was just me, my two sisters, plus my mother and father. Growing up in the 1960’s, they were probably the simplest of Christmas celebrations, and are also the ones I recall most fondly - especially now that I'm heading towards the end of my sixth decade. There's obviously no going back, and I'm pleased to say that with each passing year, Christmas has become less rushed and less frenetic.

These days there's just the three of us, Mrs PBT’s, son Matthew and me. There was a time when Eileen’s mother would come to us for Christmas, as would her brother and his late wife. We also invited a friend along, as he lived on his own. Times have changed, and as head cook, Eileen certainly doesn't miss catering for those extra people. Being a grumpy old git, I also prefer keeping my own company at Christmas, and not having to entertain members from our extended family.

Matthew also doesn't like Christmas, primarily because he works in retail, and the festive season is always the busiest time of the year. He claims, and not without some justification, that customers are often quite rude, especially as the countdown to the big day gets nearer. Many seem to be in a tearing hurry, probably because they’ve left everything until the last minute, or that the item they are after has sold out. They need to remember that their lack of forward planning it's not the fault of the stressed and harassed shop assistant.

Now that Mrs PBT’s and I are semi-retired, we find things are far less rushed, and we have plenty of time to do the shopping, present buying (mostly carried out online), boring tasks, such as writing out Christmas cards, although the posties ill-timed strikes might be the final nail in the coffin of this archaic, and largely pointless exercise. (Look, we’ve received a card from the Glums. We’d better send them one, even though we never hear from them during the rest of the year!)

Then there is the final food shopping, along with all the other activities that go into making Christmas Day as hassle free, and as smooth running as possible. So after cooking a rather large, and rather sumptuous Turkey, and devouring an equally large Christmas dinner, I'm full to the brim and sitting here, enjoying one of several beers that I chose specially to mark this celebration.

As far as beer is concerned, I've tried various approaches over the years, ranging from polypins of cask ale - with only me drinking the beer, they tend to go flat before all 36 pints are consumed, through to 5 litre mini kegs, or a selection of bottles and cans. I had intended to get in one or two mini kegs, for the festive season, but contracting COVID, just a week before the big day, rather put a spanner in the works. Instead, I’ve stuck to the tried and tested method of accumulating a large selection of bottles, and sometimes even a few craft cans.

I’ve certainly built up quite a stock this year, including some from our recent trip to Amsterdam, but I’ve also fished out the odd few bottles that have been lurking at the back of the cupboard.  I'm pleased to say that none so far have disappointed, despite several being past their best before date. At the moment I'm just finishing off a dark strong ale called Tynt Meadow, a  Dubbel-style beer, brewed by the Trappist monks of Mount Saint Bernard Abbey, in Charnwood Forest, near Coalville, Leicestershire. I've no idea where I bought this beer from but have to say it is very good.

I’ve also enjoyed a few old favourites, such as Pilsner Urquell, a hoppy and refreshing beer, which is ideal for home-drinking, plus London Porter and 1845 – both from Fuller’s. The latter is my “go to” Christmas dinner beer, and this particular bottle, with a BBE of August 2023, was well conditioned, nicely matured, and the perfect accompaniment to a roast turkey Christmas dinner. 

Today, being Boxing Day, we took a drive down into darkest Sussex, and to Uckfield to be precise, in order to visit Mrs PBT’s niece and her extended family. She’d laid on a nice spread for us all, and it was nice to catch up, but if I’m honest, I’ve already done far too much sitting around this festive season. Perhaps I’m envious that she and her partner are flying off to Cyprus tomorrow, but possibly not, as travelling over Christmas often brings problems of its own.

Part of me is itching to get my hiking boots on, and head out, back into the great outdoors. One of the Christmas gifts I had, is a nicely illustrated and well laid out pocket book, detailing 40 short circular walks in Kent. I’m itching to try a few of them out, especially as none of them seem too taxing. Some of the walks cover familiar ground, although the majority do not, and it is amazing that despite having lived most of my life in Kent, there are still areas of the county that I am unfamiliar with.

I’ll bring this post to an end now, apart from offering compliments of the season to all my readers and followers. Thank you all for your interest in, and continued support of this blog, over the past year. It is very much appreciated!

Where is everybody?

Fortunately, my recent encounter with Covid was on the mild side, as well as being relatively short-lived. It also marked the end of the unpleasant head cold, cough and blocked sinuses that had somewhat marred my enjoyment of life since the end of last month. Mrs PBT’s has also finally managed to shake off the infection too, the one that we’re both certain was picked up on our cruise to Amsterdam. She’s convinced that she had Covid as well, despite not returning a positive lateral flow test result, although as I told her,  she’s probably just feeling left out.

It felt good to return to work, even if it was only for a day. The snow had finally melted, and whilst I achieved some of what I’d set out to do, the day was marred by a series of power outages. According to work colleagues, these interruptions had been occurring all week, and although National Power Networks had dug up the road, they seemed unable to determine the cause of the problem or give a time for its resolution. The other strange thing was not all areas of the factory were affected – something to do with our 3-phase power supply.

Several members of staff were also experiencing problems with their domestic water supply, due to a spate of burst pipes, affecting large areas of Tunbridge Wells, Southborough, and Crowborough. With industrial action affecting rail services, postal deliveries, and hospital care, on a scale not experienced since the 1970’s, it really does seem like the whole country is falling apart. 

Still, onward, and upwards, and on Thursday evening Matthew and I took a drive over to the Tesco superstore at Riverhead, to stock up on Christmas goodies. This annual, father and son trip is something of a tradition in the Bailey household, as Matthew likes to buy items such as mince pies, a Christmas pudding, brandy sauce, plus a section of cheeses. We were really surprised to find the store absolutely heaving, something we didn’t expect at 8.30 in the evening. It was that busy, that I donned a mask, a sensible precaution in case my immune system is still compromised.

On the way home, I suggested a short diversion and stopping off at the Plough at Leigh, on the way home. This was sensible thinking on my part, as our delayed arrival would allow Mrs PBT’s to watch the end of a programme she’d been following. It was some sort of psychological elimination game, not my cup of tea, but I knew she wouldn’t appreciate us crashing in, with bags full of shopping, right at the crucial moment. I’m good to her, like that, but in fairness, it did provide the perfect opportunity to visit a pub I don’t get over to, that often.

The Plough  is an attractive, part tile-hung, 16th Century building, set on a bend a mile or two from Leigh village.  Up until the mid-1970’s, it was a simple country ale house, of the type which was once very common in this part of Kent, but has been through several renovations and several changes of ownership over the past four decades. It has always been a popular place to visit for the people of Tonbridge and the surrounding area, but as most of my recent visits have been during the hours of daylight, and in summer time as well, I wasn’t sure what to expect as we pulled into the car park.

The fact there were very few vehicles parked there, should have been a clue, but as we walked along the path in front of the pub, I couldn’t help noticing it was virtually empty. Stepping inside we saw two women sitting at a table in front of the bar, and upon hearing us enter, one of the ladies told us they were about to close. Before I could reply, she’d obviously taken pity on us and said we’d be welcome to order a drink, as she didn’t want us to go away thirsty.

I thanked her and replied that we’d just have a couple of halves, Tonbridge Old Chestnut for me and Amstel for Matthew. Our hostess apologised and said it had been very quiet that evening, and she wondered where everybody was. “Shopping at Tesco’s in Sevenoaks,” was my reply, but after a brief chat, as she poured our drinks, she did tell us that trade had been pretty good. I said that was encouraging, and after paying for our drinks, Matthew and I sat down at a table, adjacent to the fire.

I was rather surprised to find it lit, in view of the mild weather we we’d been having, but it added a nice warming touch to the pub. My Old Chestnut was very good, at least a 4.0 NBSS, had I been scoring. I’m not a huge fan of Tonbridge beers, but they must be doing something right, as they have been brewing for a decade or more, and their products are quite a common sight in local pubs.

We finished our drinks, in order to not overstay our welcome, and thanked the landlady and her friend as we left. I could help noticing the sign at the bar stating cash payments only. The Plough was the pub I mentioned in my article concerning local banks shutting up shop, and as Mrs PBT’s and her friends found out the landlady then was bemoaning the loss of banking facilities in Tonbridge. She was cheesed off at having now to drive into Sevenoaks, in order to bank the weekly takings and procure sufficient change.

I totally understand her frustration, and the situation in Tonbridge will be even worse come January, as HSBC, the town’s sole remaining clearing bank, will also be closing its doors for the final time. As I said towards the start of this post, the whole country is falling apart!

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Life isn't all cakes and ale, although it still can be beer and skittles

For a brief moment I was wondering whether I was wrong to have completely ditched WordPress, the writing platform I used for my late, but not particularly lamented website, Paulsbeertravels.com. I say that, very much tongue in cheek, because writing sufficient material for a self-hosted website, on top of this current blog, was just that little bit too much effort. I was certainly spending too much time staring at a computer screen, particularly for someone who still does this for a living, (albeit part time), and instead was wanting to get back out exploring the towns and villages of this fair land, especially when it involves visiting the occasional pub or two.

I mentioned WordPress, because on several of his recent posts, prolific blogger, and pub ticker extraordinaire, Retired Martin, has kicked off with quotes that are a feature of WordPress, in that they appear, every time the writer commences a new post. According to Martin, they are “prompts for the blogger with writers block,” and whilst I realise our pub-ticking hero isn’t lacking inspiration for things to write about, I certainly am.

Richard Boston in 1994. Photograph: Frank Martin/The Guardian

My second brush with COVID hasn’t helped, and whilst I have now recovered, I still feel somewhat washed out. Providing I returned a negative lateral flow test on Wednesday morning, which allowed me to return to work, even though it is only for a day. I didn’t enjoy being confined to quarters, and now that the snow has disappeared, and the temperatures are back to normal, I was pleased to reconnect with the outside world.

So, what to write about? Well, how about a book that first appeared in 1976, which was the year I graduated from Salford University. "Beer and Skittles" wasn’t originally written as a book, instead it was a compilation of the authors writings which first appeared in the weekly column that he wrote for a national newspaper. The author is none other than Richard Boston, and the aforementioned newspaper column, was titled "Boston on Beer," which was a feature every Saturday in the Guardian for around three years, during the mid-1970’s.

Boston’s writings told the story of the early days of what became the fight back by drinkers against the bland and nationally promoted keg brands, that were often the only beers available in many of the nation’s pubs. The column also championed the remaining small, independent, and mostly family-owned brewers, that were still producing beers of character and flavour, that were brewed to suit local tastes and palates.

The book is a lot more than that though, as it contains chapters on beer and brewing, along with the factors that make up a decent public house. This chapter takes up a significant number of pages, and is divided up into 11 different sections, all based largely on the authors’ observations drawn from many years of pub-going. You can tell from these descriptions, that Boston is a dedicated pub man. Some of the pub regulars he describes would be recognisable today, and the same applies looking back in time, when the author refers to characters who frequented the Boar’s Head used by Shakespeare as one of the settings in his play, Henry IV Part 1.

Beer of course, forms a major part of the book, and whilst not a member, Boston praises the achievements of CAMRA in persuading brewers to either stick with traditional beers, or resurrect new ones. For example, brewers such as Courage, after ripping out hand-pumps from their tied estates, in favour to keg or top pressure dispense, re-introduced their Directors Ale – a beer that at one point was on the verge of extinction. Numerous smaller brewers, that were just bumping along the bottom, suddenly found their traditional beers back in favour, and much sought after by the drinking public.

CAMRA did come in for a bit of stick in one part of the book, for being too dogmatic and obsessed with methods of dispense, Their fixation on extraneous CO2. rather than what the finished product actually tasted like in the customers glass, attracted both criticism, and a fair bit of ridicule from the author, although he is quick to acknowledge how CAMRA inspired others in the food and hospitality sector, to offer artisan bread, proper butcher’s sausages, and tasty farmhouse cheeses. He describes these essentials as “Good things,” so it is not surprising to see characterful traditional beers included here.

A brief guide to the UK’s breweries, titled, “What’s Where: a pub man’s gazetteer,” brought back more than a few memories, and makes fascinating reading, especially as a significant number of the companies listed, are no longer with us. It’s true to say this is where the majority of the changes have occurred, and whilst the brewing sector is brighter, and significantly larger, especially in terms of the sheer number of breweries, (2,000 +), there are many cherished companies which, for whatever reason, are no longer with us.

Quite a few of these breweries were favourites of the author’s, as well as my own, including, Adnams, Boddington’s, Brakspear’s, Gales, Hartley’s, Hook Norton, King & Barnes, Jennings, Marston’s (the original Marston’s brewery, not the company that emerged from the merger with Wolverhampton & Dudley), Morland’s, Ruddles, Yates & Jackson, and Young’s.

Adnams, and Hook Norton are still with us, but the others are not, and this chapter alone provides an illuminating snapshot of the beer and pub scene from almost half a century ago. The example of Ruddles is particularly poignant, and whilst tacky imitations of this once legendary brewery can be purchased, at discount prices, in equally tacky JDW outlets throughout the land, the Ruddles that Richard Boston describes, and the one I remember with fondness, was one that was held in high esteem by lovers of traditional beer.

“The company (Ruddles) produces some of the best beer in the country, and in the past few years its fortunes have been completely reversed by the new found enthusiasm for real beer. There are nearly 50 tied houses in the immediate area, and a growing free trade. The draught Ruddles County is a powerful 1050 OG, which seems too much to me for midday drinking, when I would stick to the excellent ordinary bitter. They are both outstandingly good, and I would put Ruddle’s beer in the top half dozen in the country.”

How the mighty have fallen, but Ruddles weren’t the only stars of the burgeoning “real ale” scene to make the wrong calls. I won’t bore you with too much history for this one, apart from saying that W.H. Brakspear & Sons, of Henley-on-Thames, were another of Richard Boston’s top breweries, and a favourite of mine as well – even though I didn’t often have the opportunity of drinking their excellent beers.

The author described both their Ordinary and Best Bitters, as amongst the best in the country, even though he was unable to decide which of the two he preferred. He also described the company’s pubs, which were always signed with the words, “Henley Brewery,” as some of the most “outstandingly attractive” country pubs in the UK, and having visited a few myself, over the years, I certainly would not disagree.

Unfortunately, whilst Brakspear’s beers are still available, they are no longer brewed at Henley, but instead are produced at the Wychwood Brewery in Witney, Oxfordshire. The Henley site ceased brewing in 2002, and the old brewery buildings are now a boutique hotel – a sad fate indeed for such a respected and well-loved brewery. In mitigation, some of the original Brakspear’s kit was moved to Witney, including the unique, “double-drop” fermenters, which helped give the beers their characteristic taste. Brakspear’s beers, are now just another brand in the already overcrowded Marston’s portfolio, and they are rarely seen in this part of the country.

Richard Boston died, four years after the closure of the Henley site. He certainly would not have approved of the move, but fortunately his thoughts and the legacy of his writing live on in “Beer and Skittles,” plus a handful of other publications. Somewhat fittingly, the Guardian published an obituary of him, which nicely summarised his life as a wit, raconteur, a bon viveur, and above all a person with an irreverent sense of humour. If you want to know more, particularly about the early days of the campaign for better beer in the nation’s pubs, look for a copy of Beer & Skittles. The book is no longer in print, but a decent, second-hand bookshop will probably be able to help you. Alternatively, a certain well-known online retailer has links to several sellers, who will be pleased to provide you with a copy.