Moving in the right direction

I took three days off from work at the end of last week. I didn’t go away anywhere and didn’t do anything terribly exciting, but it was nice just being away from the workplace for five days and just generally chilling out.

The reason I wanted to write this piece is I have noticed encouraging signs of something like a return to normal. For example, I had to take my car in for a spot of work last Wednesday, and after dropping it off at a garage on North Farm Industrial Estate, I took a stroll along to High Brooms station from where I caught the train back to Tonbridge.

My original plan had been to walk back, via the cycle-way that runs parallel to, separate from the main A21 trunk road, but with 30 degrees of heat, and no shade, I didn’t fancy a three and a half mile walk. Instead I let the train take the strain, as the ads used to say, and was heartened by the number of people waiting to board at High Brooms.

Arriving back in Tonbridge, I thought I’d chance getting a much needed haircut – my first since early March. Walking up to my usual barber’s I was just studying  the sign on the door about how to make an appointment, when the owner popped her head out and asked if I’d made a booking.

I said that I hadn’t, so she said she could fit me in, if I wanted. Well, after sweltering in the heat, with a mop of unruly hair, I of course said yes, but before sitting down in the chair, there were the Covid safety procedures to perform. Name and contact number, followed by having my temperature taken. I was slightly concerned that having walked up from the station, the reading might have been too high, so I was rather shocked when I was informed it was 34° C!

If her thermometer was that accurate, I would have been suffering from hypothermia, so rather than relate this information I instead  just smiled sweetly and said nothing. It was nice and cool in the barbers, due to the recently installed air-conditioning, and whilst in the chair, we’d chatted about trade and the situation in general. The hairdresser’s had been busy, and whilst operating mainly on an appointment basis, the proprietor said that she wasn’t going to turn away walk-up trade, if the shop was quiet.

One haircut later, and a promise to send my son up for a haircut as well, I was on my way to pick up some shopping, before heading home. Tonbridge High Street was bustling as I walked along to son Matthew’s shop to inform him it was safe for him to get a haircut. The hardware store he works at has remained busy, since reopening at the end of June, and the same seemed true of several other nearby shops. I was tempted to stop off for a coffee, but wanted to get home before temperatures climbed much higher.

The following day I was up extra early, as we were due to have a section of our garden fencing replaced. The contractors advised they would be on site between 7.30 and 8am, and true to form they were ringing the bell at just after 7.30am.  There were just two of them, but they worked like a couple of Trojans, slaving  away in the heat and high humidity of the summer heatwave.

I kept them liberally supplied with cold drinks and coffee (most contractors drink tea, surely?), nipping out for a short while in order to drive Mrs PBT’s to her place of work. The fencers were finished, just after 1pm, having replaced three damaged and two missing panels, along with new fence posts, where necessary.

We’d been waiting to get that job completed since the winter storms had first wreaked havoc with our fence, back at the end of last October, so that was another item to cross off the list. In the weeks leading up to the installation, I had the job of removing a Leylandii conifer hedge, that was long passed its prime, so whilst the garden looks a little bare at present, I will be planting some less rampant and far more colourful replacement shrubs.

Friday proved a welcome chance for a trip out. The weather was a lot cooler, so Mrs PBT’s and I took a drive down to Peasmarsh, in order to pick up some “luxury” grocery items from the Jempson’s  superstore on the edge of the village. I have written about this emporium before, so won’t repeat myself here, but it proved an enjoyable ride out in the country and the chance to do something a little different.

One thing we did notice was the leaves on many of the trees were already starting to turn yellow. Some were even brown, indicating that autumn has either come early, or that the trees were suffering from a lack of water, given the near drought conditions we’ve experienced over the past few months.

Continuing in that vein, I’ve noticed a similar autumnal effect on many of the trees, whilst out on my regular lunchtime walks. I’ve also come across plenty of ripe blackberries, whilst out on these jaunts; another indicator that autumn is on its way.

The following day we drove over to Gravesend, for a socially-distanced get together in the garden, with Eileen’s brother and his girlfriend. It was quite wet on the drive over, but fortunately there was a large gazebo which kept us dry.

Keeping us wet, on the inside, was some draught beer which Mrs PBT’s brother had collected earlier from the local Iron Pier Brewery. I took a look at their website, which demonstrated that Iron Pier produce a myriad of different beers – far too many in my eyes, but their standard bitter that we glugged was a very drinkable, dark and malty 4.0% brew, which went well with the fish and chips, ordered from a local takeaway.

The point of this article is not so much to bore readers with domestic trivia, but to demonstrate  that a degree of normality is starting to return to our lives. Yes it's a pain having to wear face-masks in shops and other places, but if they allow us to mingle more freely whilst we go about our business, then I can put up with it for a while longer.

Getting that much needed haircut was another step in the right direction, as was that ride on the train. It was encouraging to notice a lot more passengers than on my previous journey, three weeks before, and whilst I didn’t get the chance to visit any pubs over the course of my short break, I’ve received reports from friends that suggest things are picking up too in the licensed trade.

 

Dancing to the music of time - a book at bedtime

“A Dance to the Music of Time” is one of those books I’d always promised myself that I’d read. I first became aware of it when the book was dramatised on Radio Four, back in the early 1980’s. At the time, the previous Mrs Bailey was an avid listener to the broadcasts, and although I dipped in and out of the dramatisation, I never properly got into it.

That wasn’t quite true as I remained mildly fascinated by such a lengthy novel, so some 40 years on was determined to fulfil my desire to one day read the book, in its entirety. So, in June last year, I bit the bullet and placed an order for “Spring,” the first volume in the series. I have been reading my way through that, and subsequent volumes until the present date, and have enjoyed the books immensely. I still haven’t finished – more about that later.

 “A Dance to the Music of Time” is a multi-volume novel, published in twelve instalments between 1951 and 1975 and spans a large chunk of the 20^th Century, from the years before the First World War to the early nineteen-seventies. It was written by English writer Anthony Powell – pronounced “pole” rather than “pow-ell,” who was a contemporary of other 20^th Century literary luminaries, such as Evelyn Waugh, Graham Greene and George Orwell.

It has a cast of several hundred characters, drawn largely from the English upper middle classes. This was a society where the well to do and the bohemian overlap, and a world where no-one appears to have a proper job. As the novels progress, it is clear that this society was disappearing, even as Powell wrote the books, so for those interested in mid-20^th Century history, the novels provide a fascinating insight, into a rapidly vanishing world.

Another element about the series, and one which keeps readers on their toes, is the various characters come and go throughout the books; just as they might in real life. At times it is hard to keep up, as some characters who might have just a minor role in one volume, appear later with a major one later in the series. The same is true the other way around.

The books are narrated by a writer called Nicholas Jenkins, who is closely modelled on Powell himself, and many of the events portrayed in the narrative, reflect similar happenings in the life of the author.

The twelve books, whilst not quite stand-alone novels, run roughly in chronological order through Jenkins’s life; although there are a couple of exceptions which appear almost as flashbacks. The twelve books are grouped into four sets of three novel volumes that reflect the seasons, and are titled accordingly Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter.

The Spring volume chronicles Nick Jenkins and his friends, from their time at public school – almost certainly Eton College, through to them making their way into what Powell describes as the “acceptance world.” This is a world of debutantes and society balls which, whilst sounding glamorous, turn out to be predictable and often boring affairs.

Summer continues this theme through the late 1920’s and into the 30’s, detailing the comings and goings amongst the crowd that Jenkins falls in with. Although members of the aristocracy many of the characters have fallen on hard times. There is also a definite bohemian element amongst them.

Nick marries into the aristocracy by wedding Isobel, one of the Tolland sisters; siblings of Lord Erridge, Earl of Warminster, an eccentric socialist peer, who goes off to take part in the Spanish Civil War. Nick’s marriage, mimics that of Powell’s own to Lady Violet Packenham, daughter of the 5^th Earl of Longford. 

The third book in this volume is a flashback to 1914, when Nick was still living at home with his parents. The events of that summer, which led to the start of the First World War, are deliberately set against the storm clouds that gathered over Europe during the latter part of the 1930’s, with the Spanish Civil War casting a shadow and acting as a chilling precursor to the horrors of World War II.

Autumn details Nick Jenkins’s experiences through that war, and to me is the dullest and most drawn-out of the four volumes. Given his age, Nick does not see active service, but does eventually obtain a posting within the section set up to liaise with the forces of the occupied countries who are fighting the Nazis alongside the western allies.

One character who crops up throughout the series, is Kenneth Widmerpool, a slightly tragic, anti-hero, described by one critic as “one of the most memorable characters of 20^th Century fiction.” Because of his awkwardness and total lack of any self-shame, Widmerpool is ridiculed and made fun of by his peers, but despite this becomes determined to show the world what he is made of. 

He turns into a real social climber who, against the grain, achieves high office, first in the military and then in politics and, much to Nick's chagrin, keeps popping up in his life, often at the most awkward of moments.

The Winter volume covers the years following World War II, up until the 1970’s. Here, Nick continues his literary career, becoming the reviewer for "Fission," a socialist magazine, backed by Quiggin, a Marxist writer and adversary from his time at Oxford. Financial backing for this magazine comes from non-other than Kenneth Widmerpool.

I have now started the second book of this final volume, which jumps forward to the late 1950’s, and sees Nick attending a literary conference in Venice; a city he remembers from visits during childhood, with his paents. Even whist far away from home shores, it comes as no surprise that he should bump into Widmerpool, accompanied this time by his highly attractive, but "man-eating" wife, Pamela.

I have been thoroughly engrossed in this series of novels for the past 14 months; so much so that it will be a shame in some respects to finish them. I of course, had aspirations of reading one of these volumes whilst lounging out on the deck of the Queen Mary 2, on the cruise Mrs PBT’s and I booked, across the North Sea to Hamburg, but alas it was not to be.

Instead the books helped keep me sane through the long weeks of lock-down and into the unsettled times we now find ourselves in. There’s much to be said about “a book at bedtime,” especially as one can lose oneself in another word, before drifting off into a restful sleep, and I’m certainly glad I embarked on this marathon, 12 book novel.

So if there are any literary gems, or even a plain old novel that you’ve always promised yourself you’d read, you could do far worse than just follow you desire and discover whether or not that special book really was worthy of your time and your patience.

 

I'm with Tim on this one!

 It’s very rare that I find myself agreeing with Tim Martin, founder and chairman of JD Wetherspoon, especially after his support and enthusiasm for a damaging, hard Brexit, but on the issue, I am about to relate, Mr Martin is spot on.

The case in question concerns a statement made by Richard Pennington, Professor of Bacteriology at Aberdeen University, in which he claimed there is a link between drinking indoors in pubs and a recent rise in Coronavirus cases. The Wetherspoon’s chairman has subsequently demanded that the scientist should publish hard evidence to back up his claim.  

The professor was referring to the recent spike in cases seen in the city of Aberdeen, which has led to the imposition, by the Scottish government, of a localised "lock-down" shutting all pubs, bars and restaurants in the area. Speaking on BBC Radio 5 Live, the professor said that pubs were risky places for the spread of Coronavirus, as “hot and steamy” environments help Covid-19 to “get about.” Tim Martin has now challenged Professor Pennington to publish his findings so they can be “properly peer reviewed.”

A statement from Mr Martin in the Morning Advertiser, said that whilst some JDW outlets had experienced “individual cases” among staff and customers, they had not experienced an outbreak. He added there was nothing which could be described as an outbreak, and so far, there had not been a case of transmission from person to person among staff, or from staff to customers, or vice-versa.

In the light of this, Tim Martin stressed the importance of the pub industry to staff, customers and the treasury, and reiterated his call for an in-depth analysis of Professor Pennington’s findings and challenged him to publish the basis of his assumptions about any possible link between pubs and Coronavirus.

Now I doubt very much whether the professor will put his money where his mouth is; especially as his pronouncement seems little more than an assumption, but putting two and two together and making five is something that has characterised the Coronavirus saga since the beginning of 2020.

If anything, the use of science to drive a certain political or behavioural agenda has accelerated over the course of the past eight months, with dozens of so-called “experts” all eagerly chipping in with their own thoughts and comments. Some, of course, have been well-thought out and have helped our understanding of this novel-virus, but far too many have been sensationalist or misleading.

As a scientist, this "politicisation" of science makes me very cross, especially as good science (and there is still plenty of that out there) is working hard for the benefit of us all, but bad science is leading us in the opposite direction and it is not somewhere we ought to be travelling to.

Now I don’t intend on getting bogged down here, as this is a subject in its own right, but I do want to mention briefly,  the mathematical modellers, whose predictions (not always, by any means accurate),  have influenced, and in many cases driven, government policy from the start. Pandemics, such as Coronavirus, don’t always behave in the nice, neatly ordered way that computer-generated modelling says they should, and neither do populations, and this is now starting to show in various parts of the world.

Unfortunately, false assumptions, based on flawed science, attract the attention of the mainstream media, which remains obsessed with anything remotely connected to Coronavirus, especially if they can put a negative/sensationalist spin on the story.

So, to return to Tim Martin, who is quite right in calling for studies into virus spreading within pubs, to be published, along with proper scrutiny of the type of generalised statements put out by scientists and politicians to suit their own agendas. Given the measures put in place by licensees and pub owners throughout the country, to keep people safe and mitigate any risk – real or imagined, why should pubs and restaurants be regarded as less safe than say travelling on crowded buses and trains or shopping in a busy supermarket?

Pubs have received more than their fair share of bad publicity during this outbreak and seem to be used as scapegoats every time there’s even the merest hint of Coronavirus. It’s almost as if the powerful health lobbyists, at Public Health England are using the situation to promote their own anti-alcohol, "kill-joy" message, which sadly is being taken up the UK government. And in Scotland, just yesterday, First Minister Nicola Sturgeon was once again singling out pubs for criticism, virtually repeating Professor Pennington’s words. 

We would all like this situation to be over, as soon as possible, and for a degree of normality to return to our lives.  Properly managed businesses, whether they are factories, distribution centres, retail outlets or pubs and restaurants are helping this process along the way, whilst at the same time ensuring employees and customers remain safe. Why then single out certain sectors of our struggling economy?

Politicians are very keen on stressing that we are all in this together, so stop playing politics and get people behind what you are doing, instead of alienating them. That way we can bring about an end to this pandemic, that little bit sooner.

 

 

Cider, perry and me

After my recent foray into the world of fermented fruit juice, I want to explain more about my state of wariness when it comes to drinks such as cider and perry. It began when I was in my very early teens and harks back to the very first time, I got drunk.

I was 14 years old at the time and had consumed quite a few glasses of Woodpecker cider. This was whilst at a party, in the village of Wye, at the house of a girl who was a few years older than me. Don’t ask me why, but for reasons unknown, I foolishly thought that cider was either a soft drink, or one that was only slightly alcoholic – like shandy.

This confusion may have been due to the availability of a beverage called “Cydrax” - a non-alcoholic, sparkling, apple-based drink, marketed as “Cider’s little sister.” Cydrax was, produced by a company called Whiteways, who were based in Devon, and following a series of takeovers and mergers, eventually ended up as part of the Allied Lyons conglomerate.

Cydrax and its pear based equivalent "Peardrax," were hugely popular during the 1960’s and early 70’s, but by the following decade, both brands were in terminal decline. They were finally discontinued in 1988 but, as my researches show, both drinks continue to be made under licence in Trinidad of all places, where they are extremely popular.

 CC BY (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0)

My parents may have got the odd bottle of Cydrax in for Christmas, when I was growing up, but as neither mum nor dad were drinkers, my exposure to “Cider’s little sister” was probably minimal. This naivety at least partially explains why I unintentionally found myself inebriated at Jackie's party.

 

To be fair, I quite enjoyed the experience, especially as I was centre of attention for a while. It certainly didn’t put me off drinking.  To be honest, I wasn’t really that drunk, and it was more like a little tipsy, but my mood was definitely enhanced by a feeling of euphoria. My father wasn’t quite so pleased though, when he arrived to drive me home, and my mother was even less impressed. 

 

Neither of my father’s parents were drinkers, and whilst my mother’s parents were regular pub-goers, I wouldn’t really describe them as heavy drinkers. They drank enough though to put my mother off the demon drink; hence her displeasure at my slightly inebriated state.

 

As for the party, I don’t remember if Jackie’s parents were at home, although I suspect they probably were. I do recall some daft, "show-off kid" who’d brought an air-pistol along to the event and was fooling around with the weapon. Fortunately, no-one lost an eye, but this individual certainly discharged the pistol several times. My father would probably have been more concerned about me getting tipsy, than someone clowning around with a gun, but they were different times and different attitudes prevailed to those of today.

 

Moving on, I quite quickly graduated onto Strongbow cider, before developing a taste for beer, and when this happened, my taste for cider never really returned. This was possibly because, even 40 years ago, industrial ciders had elbowed the traditional stuff off the bar. It is true to say that cider, far more so than beer, became almost unrecognised from the traditional farmhouse drink it once was, and heavily promoted brands, such as those from Strongbow, Blackthorn, Taunton and Gaymers dominated the market.

 

Traditional beer, on the other hand, fared much better, thanks to a series of successful and well organised campaigns from CAMRA. Eventually, with traditional cider (and perry) in danger of disappearing, CAMRA took these threatened drinks under its wing, with the formation of their cider and perry campaign, APPLE.

 

Many CAMRA members, including me, weren’t overly happy with this move. Our argument was we had joined the Campaign of Real ALE and that the clue is on the name. CAMRA argued that cider was never going to attract the same level of support as beer, and with no other organisation prepared to champion cider’s cause, there was no other option available.

 

https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?curid=36389990

By directing some of its resources to supporting this traditional pub drink, proper cider, and by extension, perry, stood every chance of surviving, rather than withering on the vine – or should that be apple tree? Cider bars became a regular and popular feature at most CAMRA approved beer festivals, offering a wide range of traditional ciders and perries. They were staffed by keen volunteers, knowledgeable in all things related to apples and pears.

 

Inevitably gave these a wide berth, not because I disapproved of them, but more so because of the high strength of most of the ciders and perries on offer. My preoccupation at beer festivals during those early days, was to “tick” as many new beers as possible, and with cider, in many cases, being twice the strength of beer, the odd glass of fermented apple juice would seriously impinge on the number of beers I could cross off my list.

 

commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Magners_cider.jpg

As the new century approached, cider took off in a big way, and became an extremely popular drink, especially with young people. I am talking here about mainstream, big-market ciders - light years removed from their country origins. Perry – the pear equivalent of cider, became extremely rare in traditional form, and to add insult to injury, perry ended up being marketed as “Pear Cider,” presumably because modern consumers had no idea as to what perry was.

The charge into this brave new world was led by Irish cider producer, Magners. There had been a connection between Magners and renowned English cider maker HP Bulmer of Herford, for some time, but by the time the major sales push into overseas markets occurred, the company was owned by Showering’s (see below).

 

Magner’s success was due to clever marketing and the advertising made great play of it being “poured over ice.” This was in line with the craze for chilled and even “extra cold” beers, but the advertising worked and Magners seemed to be available everywhere. The brand certainly became a best seller at the off-licence I ran, with Mrs PBT’s, back in the early 2000’s. 

 

Far wore than Magners, which was at least a decent enough drink, were the plethora of exotic, fruit- flavoured ciders. Swedish producer, Koppaberg brew a wide range of fruit ciders, as do Bulmer’s, but without wishing to sound like a snob, these drinks really aren’t cider as we know it. Taking this fad to the extreme is “toffee apple cider,” a bottle of which I found Young Bailey necking back yesterday, along with his evening meal.

 

I started this article as a follow-on from my enjoyment a couple of weeks ago, of a bottle of traditional perry, so with this in mind it’s worth taking a quick look at the company which promoted and popularised perry, on a commercial scale, back in the 1960’s.

 

Showering’s began life as a small brewery based at Shepton Mallet in Somerset. They were the company behind that 1960’s favourite Babycham – the way to a girl’s heart, or perhaps more, if the advertising was to be believed! Babycham was a sparkling perry, sold in small bottles and specifically aimed at the female market. It weighs with an alcohol strength of 6%, so it is not exactly a “soft drink.”

 

Showering’s ran into a spot of bother over their marketing of Babycham, and in 1978 they were taken to court by several of the major French champagne houses, for advertising Babycham as “Genuine champagne perry.” They were forced to drop the word “Champagne” from their marketing but, as a cynic would say, there is no such thing as bad publicity and Babycham remains a popular drink to this day.

 

There’s a bit of a sting in the tail as we wrap up this story, but it’s one that offers an explanation as to where the term “pear cider” came from. In 1992, four brothers who represented the next generation of the Showering’s family, set up a company called Brothers Cider.

 

The story goes that when the company were offered a bar for their perry at the Glastonbury Festival, many festival attendees didn’t know what perry was. As a result, the “brothers” behind the brand, coined the term “Pear cider” and this is why today’s “yoof” use this term when referring to perry.

Like its former parent company, Brother’s Cider is based in Shepton Mallet and occupies the site of the former Anglo-Bavarian Brewery in the town. They have an annual turnover in excess of £50 million.

 

After 40 plus years of eschewing traditional cider and perry, I’ve got a lot of catching up to do, so that’s enough for now, but when circumstances are favourable, and I fancy something a little different from my usual beer, I shall be giving these traditional drinks more of a try.