A few thoughts from yesteryear - or how my love affair with beer began

In his autobiography, “A Sort of Life,” the author, Graham Greene, wrote about his first taste of beer. He described how, after initially hating the taste, and having to force it down to prove his manhood, he later found the memory of the taste coming back to haunt his thirst during a long walk in the country. Greene went on to describe how he and his companion stopped for a drink plus some bread and cheese at a country inn, where he “Drank bitter for the second time and enjoyed the taste with a pleasure that has never failed me since.”

A similar sort of experience was described by the journalist and pioneering beer writer, Richard Boston in his informative and highly entertaining book “Beer and Skittles.” My love affair with beer began in the early 1970’s, but I cannot claim that my first experience of drinking it was as memorable, or indeed as special, as those described by Messrs Greene and Boston. It took place at a “Country Fayre”, held in the small town of Wye, a few miles from my home village of Brook. I was member of the local scout troop at the time, and our contribution to the Fayre was to run the coconut shy. The main highlight of the event though was to be a re-enactment of a civil war “skirmish” by members of the “Sealed Knot Society”. 

Watching this colourfully dressed bunch of cavaliers and general bon-viveurs, wandering around the Fayre, prior to the enactment, with a string of pretty girls in tow and clutching their foaming tankards of ale, persuaded myself and a couple of my fellow scouts that a drink would be a good idea. So, forgetting all about what Baden Powell might have said, we nipped into the beer tent where I was treated to a light ale by the two patrol leaders. They were both a couple of years older than me and were no strangers to beer. Like Graham Greene, I wasn’t over keen on the taste, but drank it down, nevertheless.

By the time I reached the VIth form at school, I was a regular visitor at several local pubs. I slowly graduated from bottled beer to draught. In Whitbread pubs I tended to drink brown and mild, whilst in Courage houses, I drank Tavern Keg initially, before switching to PBA – a light mild which has long since been discontinued. As I became more mature, I developed a liking for bitter itself. I slowly became aware of the difference between cask-conditioned “real ale” and brewery-conditioned keg beer but, more importantly, I developed a burgeoning interest in the different breweries who were still in operation during the early 1970’s, sparking off a life-long interest in beer and brewing.

One of the pleasures of drinking during this time was being able to tell whereabouts one was in the country, by the local beer on offer. There was a patchwork of independent breweries the length and breadth of the country, ranging from regional giants such as Marston’s and Greene King to small concerns such as Batham’s and Harvey’s. Each had its own territory, its own distinctive beers and, quite often, its own style of pub. This made travelling a fulfilling and pleasant experience, and also made the destination much more rewarding and enjoyable. There was a sense of anticipation which went with visiting certain towns, or areas, in the knowledge that the beers you were going to drink weren’t available anywhere else. As a beer lover, you also knew which parts of the kingdom would offer the best choice, or the most distinctive beers, and which areas to avoid.

For example the Greater Manchester conurbation could boast one of the best selections of beer anywhere in the country, as there were around half a dozen independent brewers operating in the region, alongside a couple of national breweries which also turned out a decent drop of beer. Contrast this with the county of Norfolk, where a series of takeovers and mergers had left most of the county’s pubs in the grip of one large brewer: the infamous Watney Mann. Watney’s, had abandoned cask beer altogether and, as Richard Boston so eloquently put it, “had placed all their kegs in one basket.” If you didn’t like cold, weak, fizzy, and characterless beer and lived in Norfolk, you were out of luck!

Obviously, things have changed over the past half century, and good beer is not only far more widely available, but comes in a myriad of different types, styles, and strengths. Beer Agencies – companies that distributed a variety of different beers, from all over the country, coupled with the parallel rise of the “beer exhibition” pubs, which served these beers meant that in many cases punters could drink beers from the length and breadth of the British Isles, just by working their way along the bar!

Whilst many drinkers welcomed this vastly increased choice, for drinkers like myself it took much of the fun and excitement out of travelling around the country. Gone were the joys of a visit to Dorset, where the delights of Eldridge Pope, Hall & Woodhouse and Palmers awaited the thirsty drinker, or pitching up in rural Lincolnshire to enjoy a few pints of Bateman’s. A weekend in Oxford meant being able to sup the much-missed Morrells beers, whilst a little further back along the Thames Valley, saw one in Henley-on-Thames, where the incomparable Brakspear’s Ales were available, in some of the most unspoilt and picturesque pubs imaginable.

I have fond memories of a camping and cycling holiday in the Cotswolds, based just outside Stow-in-the- Wold; the intention being to visit and drink in as many Donnington pubs as possible. Also memorable were the forays made, by bicycle, from south London where I was living at the time, into Surrey where there was a handful of pubs belonging to Horsham brewers, King & Barnes. Their Horsham PA, pale in colour, low in strength, but packed full of flavour and crowned with a flowery hoppiness, remains as one of my all-time favourite beers, even though sadly, it is no longer available. It certainly made the effort of all that pedal-pushing worthwhile. Further afield, a trip into the area of East Sussex, centred on Lewes, meant the chance of enjoying the delectable and, in my view the still unbeatable, Harvey’s Prize Sussex Ales.

Adnam’s and Greene King beers are now nationally available, and the same has happened to other well-regarded brewers, such as Timothy Taylor’s and Shepherd Neame, to name just a couple. Slowly, but surely, the uniqueness that characterised the British beer scene has been eroded, and whilst there has been an unprecedented rise in the numbers of new brewers entering the market, producing some outstanding beers (as well as rather too many mediocre ones), the decline in the numbers of independent family brewers, coupled with the rise of voracious pub owning companies has made pub-going a real lottery for many drinkers.

Whilst the potential choice of beers available to today’s drinker would seem unimaginable to one from 40 years ago, much of this choice is random in its distribution and often haphazard in nature. By way of contrast, I look back to the years of mid 1970’s, with a real fondness. Today too much choice really does mean less, and I feel we have definitely lost something which is both unique and rather precious.

 

Ticking a few more Donnington pubs, plus others, by bike - Pt. 2

Continuing the narrative surrounding a cycling holiday in the Cotswolds, 40 years ago, you left the previous Mrs PBT’s and I sheltering in our tent, away from the cold north wind. We were waiting for the pubs to reopen because, unlike in these more enlightened times, licensed premises were forced, by law, to close each afternoon, for a two-and-a-half-hour period. This bizarre practice was a hangover from the Defence of the Realm Act (DoRA), drawn up at the height of the First World War, to maintain the supply of munitions, by preventing workers spending all day in the pub. Nearly 70 years later, this restrictive piece of wartime legislation (in slightly amended form), was still on the statute book, before finally being repealed, piecemeal, in 1988.

That evening, it was back to visiting Donnington pubs but, in view of the weather we took the car, and drove to the picturesque village of Broadwell, and the charming, but rather compact Fox Inn. The Fox won my accolade as the best Donnington pub of the trip, thus far, and the chicken casserole we enjoyed that evening still remains in my memory as amongst the best I’ve enjoyed in decades of pub going. Later that evening we moved on to the Golden Ball at Lower Swell, another fine old, stone-built Cotswold inn. We sat in the bar writing out postcards – back in the day when people still did such things, whilst enjoying the XXX Mild.  

The following morning, we decided to move on. It had rained heavily during the night and wasn't all that better come day break. We packed up the car and headed towards the village of Broadway, where a campsite had been recommended by some friends, back in Maidstone. The road took us down the edge of the steep Cotswold escarpment, into the village itself, rewarding us with one of the most spectacular views imaginable, furthermore, despite Broadway appearing to be awash with tourists it looked absolutely charming.

What we saw was sufficient to dispel any doubts we might have had about the village being a bit of a tourist trap - a view that had initially made us reluctant to base ourselves there. The campsite too turned out to be every bit as good as our friends had suggested, and after roughing it at the previous site, the hot showers, shaving points and well-stocked camp shop were most welcome! What's more the sun was shining again by the time we had finished pitching the tent!

That lunchtime we part cycled, and part pushed our bikes to the top of the Cotswold escarpment. Our destination was the Snowshill Arms, situated in the hamlet of the same name. This was the fifth Donnington pub on our list, and very nice it was too. From the Snowshill Arms, we cycled along the edge of the Cotswold escarpment to Broadway Tower, a 19th century folly. Inside the tower was an exhibition dedicated to the work of William Morris, whilst from the top there was a spectacular view right across the Vale of Evesham. Cycling back down the steep Fish Hill was exhilarating, if a little hair-raising, and that evening there were two more Donnington pubs to visit. The first was the Mount Inn, at Stanton, from where some further spectacular views were obtained, but as the pub could best be described as “upmarket”, with food prices to match, we decided to move on to the nearby New Inn, at Willersey. This was much more to our liking, but unfortunately for one reason or another, turned out to be the last Donnington house we visited on that particular holiday.

The following day we decided to cast the net further afield and ended up cycling to the picturesque town of Tewksbury. It was a pleasant enough town, and after enjoying some excellent Wadworth Devizes Bitter, along with fish and chips, in the ancient and unspoilt Berkeley Arms, a look round the town’s ancient abbey church was in order. Before leaving Tewksbury, we stopped off at the Britannia, a fairly basic local on the outskirts of the town. The Davenports Bitter there was superb, in fact it was so good that I had to have another pint just to make certain!

The ride back was via Bredon Hill, a well-known local landmark. It was quite hard going, but a most enjoyable ride, nevertheless.  I can still recall the ride, skirting the famous hill, and passing through the village of Bredon. Later that year I read a book, that I picked up in a charity shop, written by Fred Archer, a local lad who had lived and worked in Bredon, between the wars. "The Distant Scene" provided a fascinating look back at rural life during the 1920’s & 30’s, with Bredon and the surrounding area, featured prominently in the book. It was especially interesting reading about an area we had recently visited, described through the eyes of someone who had been born and bred there.

Roger Davies / The Snowshill Arms

That night, a car ride was in order, following the day's exertions. My diary recalls that we visited the Butchers Arms at Mickleton, a sprawling village to the north of Chipping Camden. The diary also records that it was there that I enjoyed Flowers Bitter and Original for the first time. These two beers, which became very common in the south-east, were only available at the time from the former West Country Brewery in Cheltenham (long closed by our old friends, Whitbread!)

The next day was Thursday and was to be the last spent in the Cotswolds. We had arranged to visit some friends in Lincoln for the weekend, so would be spending the following day travelling. To make the most of our final day, we arose early and cycled into Evesham for a brief look round, and also to visit the bank. From Evesham, we cycled on to the tiny village of Bretforton, where there was a particularly special pub that I wanted to visit. The pub in question was the world famous Fleece Inn, a totally unspoilt classic pub that had been in the same family for over 400 years. When the last incumbent landlady died, she bequeathed the pub to the National Trust. They in turn had asked CAMRA's pub-owning off-shoot, CAMRA Real Ale Investments, to run the place on their behalf.

The Fleece was everything that I expected, and a lot more besides. To say that it was unspoilt would be an understatement, although to say it was caught in a time warp would be nearer the truth. The sense of continuity that only comes when items such as furniture, crockery etc. have been handed down from generation to generation gave it an air that was truly historic, as opposed to the fake sense of history so beloved by modern day pub designers. The Fleece remains in the hands of the National Trust (no doubt with NT prices!) and retains its “highly recommended” status from CAMRA.

My notes that day, record the following beers sampled: Marstons Capital - a light mild that was discontinued some years afterwards; Highgate Mild, plus Hook Norton Bitter. A Stilton Ploughman’s helped to soak up the beer, before cycling on to the small, picturesque town of Chipping Campden, high up in the Cotswold Hills. The route back was via Snowshill, which afforded one last look at the view from the edge of the Cotswold escarpment, before departing the following day.

That evening, by way of a change, we visited the Plough at Elmley Castle. The original plan had been to have a drink in the Queen Elizabeth, in the village of the same name, but found, much to our disappointment, that it was shut. The Plough was a cider house that brewed its own cider, and the locals were not very appreciative to strangers, and the welcome we received both from them, and from the landlady, was far from friendly. We were even charged a deposit on the glasses! Needless to say, we didn't stay long, taking our halves of very pale coloured cider outside to drink. It wasn't a terribly good end to the holiday in the Cotswolds but then you can't win them all!

Looking back, our plan of cycling round all the Donnington pubs was rather ambitious, and in the end, we only managed to visit 8 out of 17. This total was crammed into just five and a half days, and combined with the terrain, plus the restriction of afternoon closing, it wasn't bad going either. It would have been far more sensible to allow a fortnight for such a feat, but there were other holidays to be had, and other places to visit.  

Footnote: as with the previous post, the same restrictions apply, with “free to use” images from the net, along with a few found on brewery websites – surely the breweries concerned won’t mind a bit of free publicity. Again, if the owner of any of the images reproduced on this post, has any objections to their use, please get in touch and I will take them down, straight away.  

 

Ticking a few Donnington pubs by bike - Pt. One

In my most recent post I explored the prospect of a trip to the Cotswolds, with the aim of visiting a few of the pubs that make up the Donnington Brewery tied estate. This trip wouldn’t be the first that I’ve made to this idyllic area of England, but it would only be the second, and with a gap of four decades since my original visit to the area, it’s worth travelling back in time to the 1980’s, and taking a nostalgic look back at what I encountered.

In June 1983 the previous Mrs Bailey and I embarked on a cycling holiday in the Cotswolds. The aim was to cycle round as many pubs as possible, that belonged to the local Donnington Brewery. We were both keen cyclists, at the time, although our enthusiasm was pushed to the limit by the many hills in the region. This explains why, despite the best of intentions, we only managed to tick off eight Donnington pubs from a total of 17 pubs.

First, a bit of background information, to help set the scene. The Donnington Brewery is situated just outside the town of Stow-on-the-Wold, hidden in a fold in the Cotswold Hills, and is housed in a converted mill, complete with its own trout lake. Without a doubt, this
setting makes Donnington the most picturesque brewery of its kind anywhere in the UK.  The brewery itself came into being in 1865, but the mill buildings which house it are considerably older, Today, the mill house functions as part of the brewery. The mill wheel is still in use to power some of the machinery, whilst the water, or "liquor", for brewing is drawn from a spring beside the mill pond, making the entire operation as a true survivor from a bygone age.

Two draught beers are produced, all of them good, and claimed by the brewery to be brewed from recipes that have remained unchanged over many years. Both beers are bitters and are well received both locally and by visitors from further afield. I make this last point, as it is necessary to travel to the Cotswolds in order to sample the beers as, apart from a very local and somewhat restricted free trade, they can only usually be obtained in the company’s 17 tied pubs. Back in the 1980’s, a dark mild was also brewed, but this was discontinued many years ago, due to poor sales.

At the time of our cycling holiday the brewery was privately owned by Mr Claude Arkell, grandson of the brewery's founder. Claude sadly died in 2007, and control of the Donnington Brewery passed to his cousins Peter and James Arkell, who have their own family-owned brewery, Arkell’s of Swindon. The latter is a reasonably sized concern owning around 80 pubs. Following their acquisition of Donnington Brewery, the cousins stated they would keep things much as they were at Donnington, and so far, have stayed true to their word. There have been a few improvements as well, the main one being the commencement of brewery tours, an activity that Claude claimed there was never time, or indeed room for. (Note to self, book a place on one of these tours!)

The idea for this holiday came from a friend who had spent a year working in Gloucestershire, as part of his horticultural studies course. The beauty of the local area, left him with the thought of taking a holiday, cycling around all the Donnington pubs in that part of the county. As with many of the dreams we all have from time to time, my friend never got round to even starting out on such a trip, but inspired by what seemed an excellent idea, I drew up plans for a Donnington tour of my own, as soon as time and finances allowed.

I managed to sell the idea to my then wife, who was keen to give it a try, and after looking at what was involved, we both booked a week off in June from our respective jobs and set about planning the trip. Early on in the process, we concluded that our finances would not permit the luxury of bed and breakfast accommodation, so decided that camping would be the next best alternative, so prior to our planned departure date, we dusted off our camping equipment, sorted out the tent, and along with our bikes loaded it all into the back of our Mark II Ford Escort Estate, and set off for the Cotswolds.

We headed for Stow-on-the-Wold, as the area surrounding the town is where the majority of Donnington pubs are concentrated. We would also be looking at suitable campsites.  People forget that in the days before the internet, a letter of phone call was the only means of contacting businesses offering accommodation, but you had to find these operators in the first place. In a way, we were flying blind, but being full of youthful optimism, we were confident of finding a campsite close to the town.

As events were to prove, our confidence was rather misguided, and we had the great difficulty in finding a suitable place to pitch our tent. The journey to the Cotswolds was uneventful, and we stopped for lunch at the Six Bells at Warborough, an attractive looking Brakspear’s pub, complete with a thatched roof. We then carried on to the picturesque town of Burford, where we located the local office of the English Tourist Board. This surely was the place to help us locate a campsite.

It might well have been, had it been open, but to find the office closed on a Saturday afternoon, in a popular tourist town in the middle of one of the most picturesque regions of Britain, seemed unbelievable. We’d been banking on being direct us to the nearest campsite, but undeterred we carried on to our final destination, Stow-on-the-Wold (where the wind blows cold). After parking the car, we again made our way to the English Tourist Board office, only to find that it too was closed. Enquiries in the town informed us that camping was available at a nearby pub, the New Inn at Nether Westcote. 

The campsite was in the grounds of the pub and although rather basic, was, under the circumstances, most welcome. In the New Inn that evening, we enjoyed a couple of pints of the late and much lamented Morrells Bitter with our meal, before walking up to the Merrymouth Inn at nearby Fifield. This was the first Donnington pub on the itinerary and gave us the chance to sample both the company's BB and SBA bitters. (Spoiler alert: the pub no longer belongs to Donnington, and now operates as a free house).

The following morning, we cycled into Stow where, despite it being a Sunday, we were able to do some shopping. We then set off to cycle to the rather isolated village of Ford, where we intended to have lunch at the local pub. The Plough at Ford had been recommended by a work colleague from, who had enjoyed a long weekend break there, the previous year. En route to the Plough we decided to make a slight detour and take a look at the Donnington Brewery itself.

Unfortunately, this was not that easy, as the brewery is situated down a private road, close to Donnington village. Despite the picture postcard setting, visitors were not welcome, primarily because they would end up over-running the place. Leaving my wife at the top of the lane, I sneaked down as far as I dared and managed to obtain a few photos of the back of the brewery but was unable to get the classic shots from across the lake that I really wanted.

We resumed our journey towards Ford, a distance of some six miles or so, through some very pleasant countryside, and found the Plough Inn, located on a bend in the middle of this tiny hamlet. The Plough claims to be one of the oldest inns in England; its cellar having formerly served as a jail. With bare walls, of Cotswold stone, and low-beamed ceilings it looked every bit the part, but being a fine day we sat outside in the garden. Here, we enjoyed a good bread and cheese lunch, washed down with a couple of pints of Donnington’s SBA. That evening we visited our third Donnington pub, the Queens Head in Stow-on-the-Wold itself. The food was good here as was the pub, and for the first time on that trip, we were able to sample the now discontinued XXX Mild.

The following day saw us undertaking a longer cycle ride, to the village of Hook Norton, in neighbouring Oxfordshire. En route we stopped off in the busy market town of Chipping Norton, primarily to stock up on provisions, but also to try beer from Halls Brewery for the first, and, as it happened, last time. Halls were a brewery, based in Oxford, that had been taken over, by Ind Coope, a decade or so previously. As is usually the case with such take-overs the brewery was closed, and the Halls name disappeared.

Following the general revival of local beers that took place during the early 1980’s, the Hall’s name was resurrected as part of Allied Breweries move towards decentralisation, and a beer called Harvest Bitter, brewed at the Ind Coope Brewery in Burton-on-Trent introduced to appeal to local tastes. It was not long though before the policy providing local beers was reversed, and the Halls name once again vanished.

Suitably stocked up, and refreshed, we continued our journey. The ride took us through some very pleasant and undulating scenery, in short, the English countryside at its best. Before too long we arrived in the village of Hook Norton which, as all beer lovers know, is home to a renowned brewery of the same name. The Pear Tree, in the village centre, served some very acceptable, as well as cheap, pints of Hook Norton Mild and Bitter. After our long cycle ride they were just the ticket, as was the more solid refreshment they helped to wash down. 

Before leaving the village, we cycled up the lane leading to the brewery itself. This time there were no signs warning visitors off, and we were able to see the impressive tower brewery, designed by the famed 19th century brewery architect, William Bradford, in all its glory. From the brow of a hill, on our way back to the campsite, we were rewarded with a splendid view of the brewery from across the fields. The setting was just perfect; a fine, but rare, example of a working country brewery.

By the time we arrived back in Stow, the weather had taken a turn for the worse, becoming cold and windy. This made cycling hard work, and we were both glad of the shelter and relative warmth of the tent for a couple of hours, when we arrived back at the campsite. To be continued.......

Footnote: given that the events described in this narrative took place 40 years ago, there are obviously, no contemporary digital photographs available. Somewhere, in the various boxes and folder of photos, tucked away in a cupboard at home, there must be some decent images, taken on my old and trusty Pentax, SLR. If I find them, they will need to be scanned, prior to uploading, and that would be a project, in itself.

Consequently, I have selected a few “free to use” images from the net, along with a few I stumbled across on brewery websites – surely the breweries concerned won’t mind a bit of free publicity.

If, the owner of any of the images reproduced on this post, has any objections to their use, please get in touch and I will take them down, straight away.  

A Cotswold challenge

Well, we’re approaching the end of second week in October, and the nights are really starting to draw in. Although the weather was kind last weekend, the incessant wind and rain have now returned with a vengeance. As I’ve mentioned in a couple of previous posts, the deluges we’ve been experiencing recently aren’t good news for those of us who would rather be out an about, enjoying the English countryside. This is especially true for me, because I missed most of last year’s October in the UK. It seemed strange arriving back in Blighty and realising this, after three weeks (19 days) away, cruising around the Mediterranean, and enjoying the delights of Crete, Athens, Kefalonia and Sardinia, although such places now seem a distant memory.

Time then to enjoy a few home-grown delights. I’m sorry to be the first to mention the dreaded “C” world, but I discovered following our return from a most enjoyable week away in Northumberland, that plans had already being drawn up at work for the firm’s Yuletide bash, with a choice of venue that is rather “left field” as our friends/relations from Norh America would say. More about that, closer to the event. In the meantime, we’ve got two groups of visitors coming over from our parent company, in Japan to look after. So, after the formalities of an audit, plus a board meeting (I’m obviously not involved with the latter), there will be a couple of evenings entertaining our visitors at a local restaurant or hostelry and watching hem drink too much.

These corporate “dos” are alright, and have their place, but what I’m really after is a relaxed and proper day out, with people I know and like. You know the idea, by now, meet up in a distant location – preferably one I’ve never been to before, and then spend the day visiting a sprinkling of delightful pubs, carefully selected for their atmosphere, beer selection, history, unspoiled interiors and general ambience whilst, of course, enjoying some equally fine beers.

I’ve been on quite a few of these trips now, to various towns and cities across the UK, including Stockport, Bath, Birmingham, Sheffield, Manchester, Burton-on-Trent, and a Shropshire town with the unusual name of Shifnal. Attendances have varied, ranging from just a handful, into double figures, but all have been enjoyable, with different merits, depending on location, with the common factor of allowing the group to visit a wide range of different pubs, and enjoy some excellent beers. Not for nothing have these trips become officially known as “Proper Days Out. “

I’m in the early stages of planning a possible day out, in a part of the country that I haven’t visited for nigh on 40 years. You probably won’t guess the region I’m referring to, but it’s the Cotswolds, and it was a light-hearted and rather flippant, throw-away remark, on one of my recent blog posts, that pointed me towards this area. My flippant comment was followed by a far more serious response from someone who, after setting me a challenge, left me in little doubt that he was serious. Confused? You ought to be because I’m also struggling to determine how we arrived at this point.

Basically, I was set a challenge, that was one of my own making, and it followed on from a remark about Donnington beers made by Stafford Paul, after he suggested I have a crack at the Donnington Way. This is a meandering  croos-country footpath through the heart of the Cotswolds, that connects all 17 Donnington Brewery pubs. I responded to Paul’s comment, by suggesting pub-ticker extraordinaire Retired Martin, might like to join me. This was a very tongue in cheek remark, as Martin has a very low opinion of Donnington ales. I’m not sure where this abhorrence came from, but I thought I was on steady ground when I made that suggestion of him accompanying me. To my surprise, his response was, “If you pick a date, I shall come.” I replied, “Thanks Martin, I knew you wouldn't resist a challenge. I shall sort out the practicalities, and let you know.”

That was the easy part; the hard part was sorting out the logistics of such a trip. I knew from past experience how difficult this would be, because 40 years ago, on a cycling holiday in the Cotswolds, I once attempted to visit all 17 Donnington pubs. I failed, primarily because the Donnington tied estate is spread across quite a large area, and it is one that is also hilly and, in many places, connected by a network of narrow country roads. So, if I couldn’t achieve this quest on a bike, how could I possibly do so using public transport?

The Cotswolds are an area of limestone hills, covering over 800 square miles, across six English counties so, by their very nature, there isn’t much of a rail network covering the area.  Towns on the periphery of the Cotswolds are well served by rail, with Banbury, Bath, Cheltenham, Gloucester, Moreton-in-Marsh, Stroud, and Oxford the main examples, but should the traveller wish to venture further into the region, then it’s bus or walk. One could always drive of course, but that rather negates the main reason for visiting the area in the first place.

I already knew that Donnington’s have a pub at Moreton-in-Marsh, the Black Bear Inn. Moreton is one of the few locations in that part of the Cotswolds to have its own railway station, on the Cotswold Line, which runs between Oxford and Evesham. So that’s the first pub sorted, and I also gives a toehold into both the Cotswolds and Donnington country, but what about the rest of the area? Depending on which source you refer to, Donnington now have 20 tied pubs, with the majority centred around the small town of Stow-on-the-Wold, which is close to the location of the brewery itself.  

Local bus service No. 801, operates an hourly service to Stow from Moreton, and this pleasant Cotswold town would make the ideal base for most of a Donnington-centred, “Proper Day Out.” As well as the Donnington-owned Queen’s Head in the centre of Stow, there is the Stag, which is a rare outpost for Arkell’s of Swindon, plus the Talbot, which is a Wadworth tied pub. A mile or so to the west of Stow, (slightly further by public footpath) is the Golden Ball, at Lower Swell, which would be the third, and probably the final Donnington pub of the day.

Given there is a section of cross-country walking involved, this “Proper Day Out” would be more suited to the summer months. I haven’t yet finished working out the timings, for such an event, but if anyone is interested, as well as Retired Martin of course, please let me know and we can then come up with a visit to a lovely part of the country that not many of us get to visit – unless it’s for a specific holiday, of course.

 

 

“We are stuck with technology when what we really want is just stuff that works.” ― Douglas Adams

I seem to have experienced a run of bad luck recently when it comes to household systems and technology, and just when I thought my troubles were over, up crops a new issue. Since June there’s been a problem with the central heating system - necessitating the replacement of a motorised valve, a toilet cistern that wouldn’t refill after flushing, and Matthew’s shower scaled up and non-operational. There has also been the ongoing issue with a squeaky wheel on my car, but despite visits to two different garages/vehicle repair shops, no one can find anything wrong with the vehicle. (It made it to Scotland and back, last month!)

Yesterday morning, thinking my troubles were behind me, I logged on to Blogger, in order to access my dashboard, to discover I was denied access. I’m talking about my own site here, the one I post all sorts of articles that come under the beer, pub and travel banner, but the browser I use – Firefox, would not let me in. You can see the message below.

The problem seemed to start after I set up my new Samsung Galaxy, mobile phone, purchased the previous weekend. I experienced all sorts of trouble trying to sync my contacts across from the old one, before Mrs PBT’s – who’s rather more tech-savvy than me, came to the rescue and said I had to save the contacts, on the old device, to the sim card, before installing the card in the new phone. That worked, but now I’m looking for a music app that will work off-line as well as when connected to the net, and one that will enable me to listen to the umpteen MP3 files copied onto this PC, from my extensive CD collection. Physical music is making a comeback, don't you know, and it's not just vinyl I am referring to.

It was an interesting process buying the new device, and despite a faultless four year run from my Xiaomi Mi 9T, I wanted a phone, with a decent camera, good memory and plenty of storage – the latter was important as over the 4+ years I had with the Mi 9T,, I managed to completely fill the 64 GB memory with photos, MP3 files and all the other stuff that accumulates over the years. Work colleagues had recommended a Samsung, and as I’d owned one previously, it seemed a good suggestion. Unlike a lot of tech geeks, I didn’t want the latest version or top of the range model, although I did want a phone that was slightly larger than my current.

So last Sunday, I took the bus over to Tunbridge Wells and pitched up in the O2 shop. It was far busier than I imagined it would be, so they were operating an appointment system. I consequently left my details, and the staff advised they would text me in an hour or so. Time for a beer, I thought, even though the original plane had been to go for a drink after completing my purchase. Fuggles was the nearest pub, as well as the most convenient and there were a couple of people I knew in there, as well.

Not knowing quite how long it would take for O2 to call me back, I thought I’d better stick to smaller measures than pints, so I ordered a two thirds – government approved, glass of Paulaner Oktoberfest. I then sat down for a chat with a friend I know from CAMRA. Despite its strength the beer slid down remarkably quickly, so I decided to push the boat out with a half of Wally Winker’s Death by Chocolate, from Westerham Brewery, as I’d heard good reports about it.

I’d only just sat down to enjoy my drink, when the text from O2 came through. I necked the beer down as quick as I could, before heading back to phone shop. I took the precaution of calling in at the Gents at the RVP on the way, as I knew the sales process wouldn’t be quick, and I was right. I was served by a pleasant young lad who, although obviously a techy, (it goes with the territory, I suppose), knew his stuff. I did have to tell him to slow down on a number of occasions, but in the end, he made a sale, and I got what I wanted, a shiny, new Samsung Galaxy A55 5G on a 36-month contract. I didn’t’ get the phone out the box until I’d bought a suitable case, plus screen protector, and that’s where my troubles began.

Leaving this issue aside, it’s worth mentioning that also in Fuggles, and sitting at the bar, was another West Kent CAMRA member, who works for a well-known Hop Factoring group, whose roots are in Southern Germany, but have sites in the US, Australia, China, Bavaria, plus the UK. The group’s UK offices are based in Paddock Wood, a large village formerly at the centre of the Kentish hop growing area, and is where this particular character works.

He had recently returned from a visit to the United States where along with a group of colleagues, they had witnessed part of this season’s hop harvest. Talk about nice work if you can get it, but there’s more to come as the group was due to make a rare visit to Samuel Smith’s brewery at Tadcaster. As well as being tantamount to the Holy Grail of brewery tours, long-serving company chairman, Humphrey Smith is due to step down by the end of the year. Like others, I look forward to hearing about this visit, although given Humphrey’s reclusive nature, his disdain for modern technology, plus his views on a whole host of different topics, I don’t expect we’ll be seeing any photos!

Oktoberfest beers bring a sparkle of Bavrian sunshine, and help lift the autumn gloom

September was a pretty lean month as far as articles were concerned, with just seven posted on the blog, which constitutes the lowest monthly total for a long, long time. I’m not sure of the reason, especially as our trip to Northumberland provided plenty of material for blog articles, but if truth be known I ended up with a mild case of “writers block.”  

The rather sudden end to summer, also put a stop to some planned outdoor activities, including starting out on a couple of local, river valley walks. It also induced a general feeling of lethargy and loss of interest that probably has more to do with the changing of the seasons than anything else. I’m possibly working too hard as well, something that was almost inevitable given my current part-time working regime. Trying to cram five normal days into just three, was always going to be challenging, and at times it can be quite hard, even if it does have its rewards come Wednesday afternoon.  Life goes on though, and the world of beer and pubs never stands still.

In Munich, the world-famous Oktoberfest is getting into its second and final week. I haven’t seen the attendance figures, although they wouldn’t mean a lot to me anyway, but here in the UK, as in many other parts of the world numerous "copy-cat" events have been taking place. I have written about some of these before, so I won’t be repeating myself, as whilst a small number of home-grown Oktoberfest happenings are taking place locally, most tend to be rather kitsch, stereotypes of what the organisers imagine this "Bavarian Folk Festival" to be.

I’ve so far managed to steer clear of these faux events, and for good reason, but local beer café Fuggles, who have outlets

in both Tonbridge and Tunbridge Wells, have been running their own Oktoberfest tribute-cum-promotion featuring Märzen style Festbiers from both home-grown brewers, and also from Bavaria itself. Most importantly, and in a tribute to the main event, they have featured a rotating range of the genuine Oktoberfest beers imported directly from Munich. Ranging in strength from 5.7% to 6.3% abv, these are not beers to be trifled with, even if you drink them by the pint. For the brave-hearted, or foolish, the beers are also sold by the one litre Maß, the traditional measure at Oktoberfest, as well as other parts of Bavaria.

Fuggles are retailing these beers at £7.00 a pint, but considering their strength, and the lengths that to which Fuggles have gone to obtain them, then it’s probably not too bad, all things considered. At Oktoberfest itself, all beer sold at the event must be brewed within the city limits of Munich, and the "Big Six" breweries that supply the festival are: Augustiner, Hacker-Pschorr, Hofbräu, Löwenbräu, Paulaner and Spaten. All the Oktoberfest beers will be good, full-bodied, well-rounded and with the right balance between malt and hops.

There are tie ups between certain members of the "Big Six", as Hacker-Pschorr are part of the same group as Paulaner, and the same applies to Löwenbräu and Spaten. Augustiner are still family owned, whilst Hofbräu are owned by the state of Bavaria. Other brewers have tried to get round these limitations by opening breweries within Munich, but the city council moved the goal posts by stating only those established before 1970 could supply beer to Oktoberfest.

I’ve been slowly, and I mean slowly, working my way through the beers on sale at Fuggles, and as they haven’t all been available at the same time, it’s been an enjoyable and interesting exercise. So far, on three separate visits, I’ve enjoyed Oktoberfest beers from Paulaner, Spaten, and Hofbräu. I had planned on calling in today, but that didn’t quite work out (I was too early, if truth be known, but as a consolation, I picked up three short-dated bottles of Schlenkerla Rauchbier, from the nearby, well-stocked Organic Market store. This establishment sometimes has bottles of Samuel Smith’s, on sale, and I did spot a few bottles of Pure Brewed lager on the shelves, but this time around, Bamberg’s finest, won out.

Returning to Oktoberfest for a while, the Bailey family attended the event, back in 2017, albeit only for half a day. We were en route to Regensberg, a city we had visited the previous year, and had spent the night, and part of the following day in Munich. Having arrived early at the Wiesn (Oktoberfest site) things were pretty quiet. But we were still able to get a “feel” for the place.

The first thing to note is, the event is free. Obviously, you will have to buy your beer and food, but unlike most British beer festivals, including the “look alike” Oktoberfests, there are no admission charges. The costs involved in providing the “temporary” infra-structure (the so-called tents), paying the staff and the all the other ancillary charges involved in putting on this mammoth festival, are recouped by the price of the beer (and to a lesser extent the food).

We visited the Hacker-Festzelt, which can accommodate up to 9,300 people, a similar number to the other large “tents”. There are fourteen of these; seven of which are operated by the breweries, and the rest by independent landlords. There are also around 10 smaller “tents”. We actually sat outside, and whilst we perhaps missed out on the feel of the event, it was very pleasant sitting out in the warm, late-September sunshine, taking in the atmosphere and enjoying the general ambience.

It is worth noting that unless you have a seat; either inside or outside one of the tents, you will not be served. There is none of the vertical drinking common at UK beer festivals, and you will not be allowed to wander around carrying your mug of beer. By “seat” I mean a long bench, in front of an equally long wooden table. Typically, there will be room for 10 average sized people, on each table (five along each bench.).

Our waitress brought two foaming Maβ Krugs of Hacker-Pschorr Festbier for Matt and I, plus an equal measure (and an equal price), of alcohol-free beer for Mrs PBT’s. We also had something to eat a plate of local (Fränkische), sausages, with potato salad for Eileen and I plus roast pork in gravy, with one of those spongy potato dumplings (Kartoffel-Knödel) for Matthew.

At Oktoberfest, you pay for your food and drink when they are brought to your table; unlike the practice in most German pubs and restaurants, where you pay before you leave. This makes perfect sense, given the high numbers of people coming and going, and I prefer this anyway, as it saves hanging around waiting for the final bill to appear.

There is a lot more to the event than the drinking of copious amounts of beer. We enjoyed just walking around, looking at the stalls selling snacks and souvenirs, the various side-shows, shooting galleries plus other fairground attractions. We personally steered away from the latter, as none of us enjoy being spun round at high speed, turned upside down or dropped from a great height, but if this sort of thing floats your boat, then do give the rides a try – preferably before you’ve had a skinful of beer and a roast pork knuckle! The main thing we discovered about  Oktoberfest was just how accessible the whole thing is and,  having now “learned the ropes”, I would definitely go again but this time spend a bit longer there.