Lewes, on a wet Saturday afternoon

Last Saturday was something of a washout, so much so that the family barbecue we’d been invited to, by Mrs PBT’s’ niece, at her new home in Uckfield, had to be cancelled. Rather annoyingly, both Friday and Sunday were fine, it’s just that a rather slow-moving weather front put the kibosh on things.

Determined to do something, other than stay at home watching the rain, I suggested a drive down to Lewes.  I knew from the time I worked in the town that there is a large Tesco down by the river, and I also knew that it is only a short walk along the towpath, from Tesco’s car park to Harvey’s Brewery.

As well as wanting to stock up on some of Harvey’s rarer bottled beers - brews such as Tom Paine, Bonfire Boy, Star of Eastbourne and Prince of Denmark, I had a number of empty beer bottles to return. Harvey’s are one of the few breweries to use returnable bottles, and over the past 18 months I’d accumulated quite a few of them. A shopping expedition to Lewes would provide a good excuse to return these, whilst picking up a few new ones at the same time.

We set off shortly before midday, choosing the direct route along the A26, via Tunbridge Wells and Crowborough. This is a road I know well, having worked in Lewes for three and a half years, between 1992 and 1995. I was 30 years younger back then, so took the daily 50-mile round trip, in my stride, but these days it’s not a commute I would like to repeat on a regular basis.

It rained incessantly all the way, the rain perhaps helping to keep traffic levels down, but it did mean that moment, when the imposing bulk of the South Downs suddenly comes into view, didn’t happen. Rain, low cloud, call it what you will, meant we were driving into Lewes before the famous chalk hills could be seen, and then only because they rather dominate the town.

Some annoying, and quite major roadworks held up our entry into Lewes, so I made a mental note to select a different route for the drive home. We parked the car at Tesco’s and leaving Mrs PBT’s to do the grocery shopping (she much prefers shopping on her own, and that’s not something I'm going to argue with), Matthew and I descended the steps to the riverside towpath, and followed it towards Harvey’s magnificent looking, brewery.

Following the disastrous flooding of 2000, the company have constructed a large, but attractive, red-brick wall, right around the perimeter of the brewery – an expensive undertaking but worth every penny if it protects against future flooding. Our walk therefore took us round the back of the brewery, before emerging into the bustle of Cliffe High Street. From there, it is just a couple of hundred yard to the brewery shop.

What I’ve always liked about Lewes, and bear in mind I spent three and a half years working in the town, is the large number of independent shops. These range from book and record shops to hardware and clothing outlets, along with the obligatory antique/tat shops. There are also a few “alternative” and quite quirky shops, that don’t fit into the above categories. Pride of place, in my view though, is the Harvey’s Brewery Shop, fronting on to Cliffe High Street, at the corner of the pedestrian and small vehicle entrance to the brewery yard.

I was a regular visitor to the shop, during the time I worked in the town, walking from my employer’s factory, on the Cliffe Industrial Estate, along the River Ouse, and then following the old road (now bypassed by the Cuilfail Tunnel), making a couple of visits each week. My purpose was to fill up my Karry-Keg beer jug, primarily with Sussex Best, but also with whichever seasonal beer Harvey’s had available at the time. I enjoyed those walks, and the peace and quiet of the old road with its rows of cottages, leading to the top of Cliffe High Street. It was also good to get away from the workplace, and “escape” back into the real world, from time to time.

In keeping with the illustrious brewery buildings behind, the shop is an attraction in itself and is well-stocked and well laid out, with all sorts of Harvey’s related goodies. As well as the aforementioned cask ale and bottles to take away, the shop stocks a wide range of wines and spirits plus, for those who like to act as purveyors of some free advertising for the brewery, all sorts of Harvey’s sartorial merchandise.

Matthew and I were there for the beer and ended up filling our shopping basket with quite a range of “hard to obtain” seasonal brews, to take home with us.  We handed over the dozen or so empties, that I’d accumulated, and received a refund of 10p, covering the deposit due on each bottle.

We didn’t dally to take photos of the shop interior, as was there was a Covid restriction on numbers allowed into the shop at any one time. Pleased with our purchases, we retraced our footsteps back along the River Ouse, to Tesco, where Mrs PBT’s had more or less finished the shopping, picking up a sandwich each to eat in the car, for our lunch. Another bonus was the rain had finally stopped, making the drive home a lot more pleasant.

As hinted at earlier, I took a different route out of Lewes, that involved crossing the river and then heading up the rather steep, School Hill into the heart of the town, passing the Law Courts and the famous White Hart Inn, which face each other across the High Street. After passing the Black Horse Inn, now nicely restored and much improved from the time when friend Eric and I stayed there, whilst walking the South Downs Way, we headed out of town on the East Grinstead road.

We were quite high up, but I was told to keep my eyes on the road, rather than the view, as we began to descend from the Downs, and back into the Ouse valley. We passed through the villages of South and North Chailey, both of which are picturesque, and well laid out settlements. The Five Bells pub, overlooking the green, looked particularly inviting, and even more tempting!

The route home meant turning onto the A272, which took us through the much larger village of Newick. Again, there were a number of attractive looking properties and several pubs, all of which suggest that this corner of East Sussex warrants further exploration for dedicated pub-goers. Once I cut down on my hours at work, I will be taking a close look at some of the local bus routes, and planning out a few cross-border forays, taking full advantage of my bus pass.

It pains me to say, especially as someone who has live most of his life in Kent, that Sussex does have the edge on its northern neighbour, with some very pretty looking villages, surrounded by equally attractive countryside, but Kent’s proximity to London and the Thames Estuary, doesn’t help the northern part of the county.

As stated earlier, Lewes is also a town that is well worth a visit, and with the No. 29 bus running between Tunbridge Wells and Brighton, is another place easily accessible, using my "old-git’s" bus pass!

A quiet Monday at the Nelson

When I mentioned in passing, to a couple of my work colleagues that I was meeting up with a friend for a few drinks, last Monday evening, the comment was, “Not on a school night, surely?” My answer was, "Why, not?” and why not indeed, as leaving aside the fact that Monday represents the first day back at work, for most working people, it is a day that is little different to most others. 

Granted, it’s not a day for really letting one’s hair down, but I can think of few days better for a few quiet drinks, a natter, and the chance to catch up with an old friend who, because of the pandemic, I hadn’t seen since the start of the new year.

One of my stipulations when arranging this meet up, was a football-free venue, or a night when no Euro 2020 matches would be taking place. So it was my friend who came up with the suggestion of the Nelson Arms, on a Monday. This excellent back-street, community pub has been showing the championship matches, but with none scheduled for that evening, it was the ideal choice and certainly got the thumbs up from me.

I would normally have walked down to the pub, but after it had started raining heavily, the offer of a lift down there, from son Matthew, was too good to turn down. I therefore arrived slightly ahead of my friend, and after giving my contact details (the pointless in an empty pub, as you will find out in a minute), I was sat down at a table, perusing the menu, in full view of the bar.

My friend arrived a couple of minutes after me. He is much more a regular at the Nelson than I am, so was on first name terms with the barmaid. She mentioned that the pub would probably be closing early – around 9.30pm was her guess. We both said that wouldn’t be a problem, particularly for me with work the following morning. My friend is retired, but he did say there he’d had quite a few pub sessions recently and would therefore welcome a relatively early night.

With the formalities out of the way, it was a question of what about the beer? Monday is a sort of “changeover day” at the Nelson, a day when the landlord will run down those beers that are coming to an end, before placing any new ones on sale. This eminently sensible practice not only cuts down on waste, but also ensures beers aren’t left hanging around in the cellar, for too long, so whilst the choice might not have been as extensive as it would have been at the weekend, there were still several excellent beers from us to choose from.

It’s a shame that more landlords don’t follow suit, because when trade is expected to be quiet, like at the beginning of the week, there is little point in having a vast array of beers on offer, especially when there is likely to be just a small number of customers in the pub.  It goes without saying that the clock starts ticking, with regard to shelf life, as soon as a fresh cask is broached, and if you know it is unlikely to sell within a three to four-day period, (due to there already being too many other beers to choose from), there is little point in putting yet another one on sale.

Fortunately, the number of beers on sale, last Monday, was probably just right, and the one I opted for was Cowcatcher, a 4.8% citrusy American Pale Ale from East London Brewing Company. This was followed by Spectra, another pale ale, this time from  Hull-based, Atom Brewery. I ended the evening with a half of Fire Saga, a strong, British-style brown ale from Wild Weather Brewery

During the course of the 90 minutes or so that we were in the pub, no other customers came in. We noticed that the barmaid had finished the re-stocking, facing up and all the other tasks she was engaged with, so we drank up, settled our bills, thanked her for her patience and left the pub. It was still raining, but only slightly – light enough for us to walk home without getting soaked.

We hadn’t gone far though, before the heavens opened, so I decided to take Matthew up on his earlier offer of a lift home. We cut through the back of the railway station, and then I called him from the shelter of the station entrance.  He arrived, like a knight in shining armour, picked us both up, and after dropping my friend off, we arrived home shortly before 10pm.

It was good to see my friend and to have caught up with what had been going on in our respective lives. He has been retired for as long as I have known him, so obviously has a lot more spare time than I do. Time to go out for long country walks, to visit pubs and to spend time away from home – although the pandemic has put paid to that over the past 14 months.

With my planned scale back in work commitments, due to take place in two and a half months’ time, I also will have more time on my hands, and look forward to enjoying similar activities to those currently experienced by my friend.

As for the Nelson, well it was a particularly quiet night, although I am certain it would have been buzzing for last Wednesday’s semi-final match between Denmark and England.  

Finally, two and a half pints was plenty enough for me, especially on a “school night,” and goes to show how the changes in my own drinking habits, brought on by the pandemic and enforced lock-downs, has inadvertently changed the way in which my body responds to alcohol.

Sunday 4th July - was something happening elsewhere?

A busy weekend and a successful one too, marked the beginning of July, and a two-day break that literally flew by in a flash.  The primary objective was a pre-booked trip to the dump or, as it is properly known, the Waste Transfer Station (WTS). It was something that had been at the back of my mind or sometime, and when it actually came to it, the whole process a lot easier than we’ve been led to believe.

As with many people, the two lockdowns gave me the opportunity for a good sort out of items that had accumulated in various corners of Bailey Towers, and the three main areas were the summerhouse, the garden shed and the greenhouse – ranked in descending order of importance. I had made several lists, that I eventually merges into one and then gradually added to.

So far, so good, but there was then the problem of having to book a slot in advance. It was here that the horror stories of a six week wait had first started circulating at work. I would be needing son Matthew’s help with both the loading and the unloading of the car, with the former proving, as forecast, the most arduous, but as he only discovers his roster, a week in advance, that part of the process was looking rather difficult.

It was only after looking on the KCC website that I discovered there were plenty of available “slots” at our nearest WTS, at North Farm, Tunbridge Wells. I booked a slot for 12.30pm on Sunday, knowing that Matthew had the day off from work, and whilst this involved giving details of my postcode, vehicle registration number, make and model of vehicle, the whole process was surprisingly easy.

After the seemingly obligatory shopping trip, most of Saturday was spent locating, sorting, and then loading into the back of the car, items ranging from a rusty old wheelbarrow, a garden table and chairs, a fold-up bed and mattress, an old computer, plus a rather large CRT type television. The latter was by far the heaviest and the most cumbersome, so I left that until Sunday morning, when Matthew was available to help. I managed the other items, by myself, although it did take most of the afternoon.

I needed Matthew’s help to carry that CRT television down the stairs, and for a heart-stopping moment, I thought it wasn’t going to fit in the back of the car. Fortunately, it did, following a spot of moving things about, so fully laden we set off for the tip.

Unloading the car and throwing the various items of accumulated household “junk” into the appropriate container took far less time than the sorting and loading. There was also something strangely satisfying about the whole process, especially when you know as many of the various “waste streams” are actually recycled, so mission accomplished, we drove back towards Tonbridge, but not before checking out the location of, and the parking arrangements for the vaccination centre, where Matthew was due to attend, for his first Covid vaccination.

The Tunbridge Wells Reserve Army Barracks is conveniently sited next to the town’s swimming pool and sports centre, so knowing where he had to attend on Tuesday evening, with dad acting as chauffeur, meant Matthew knew where he was supposed to go. Afterwards, we decided that a pint would be in order, but which pub should we choose, bearing in mind that many would be busy with the Sunday lunchtime dining trade.

Matthew suggested hoovering the back of the car out first, using the allegedly powerful pay-as-you go vacuums at the Three Elm Lane, BP garage to the north of Tonbridge. There is something about the pride young boys take in the appearance of their vehicles, that is the complete opposite to the older generation, so I went along with his idea, only to find that the vacuum machine we pulled up alongside, was hopelessly under-powered.

We gave up on that idea, after wasting a quid, and decided that the nearby Carpenter’s Arms might be worth stopping at. A look at the extensive carpark, that was full to capacity, told us otherwise, so we continued along the road towards East Peckham.  The Bell at Golden Green, looked OK, but with the flags flying for the football, had the appearance of a real locals’ pub.

Nothing wrong with that, as Life after Football will tell you, especially if you want to soak up and revel in the banter, but if, like us, you just wanted a quiet drink, then probably not the right place. Instead, we drove on, until we came to the Man of Kent, at Little Mill – a pub that received a brief mention in last month’s post about the nearby Bush, Blackbird & Thrush.

As luck would have it there were spaces in the car park, at the rear of the pub, so after utilizing one of them, we approached the front of the pub, as the notices instructed, and waited for someone to attend to us. That didn’t take long, and although we were informed that all the tables inside the pub were fully booked, there were plenty of spaces outside.  

This suited us fine, and we chose one over-looking the stream (actually the River Bourne), that runs alongside the pub. As the name “Little Mill” suggests, there was once a mill nearby, on the opposite bank of the stream. Suitably seated, and our contact details taken – I’ll be glad when this nonsense is over, we ordered our drinks.  From a choice of Tonbridge Coppernob or Harvey’s Best, I chose the latter. Matthew asked which lagers were available, and on hearing the name “Guinness,” inextricably chose a pint of the “black stuff” because he thought Guinness might brew a lager.

They do, of course, but it’s called "Hop House," so quite why the barman chose to rope Guinness Extra Stout in with the lagers, is beyond me. Matthew enjoyed what was almost certainly his first pint of Guinness, and ended up buying the round as well, after my card was declined twice. I had the same problem in Waitrose, on the way home, although my payment did go through with chip and pin.

We spent a pleasant half hour or so, enjoying our drinks out on the riverside terrace. I popped inside, ostensibly to use the facilities, but more so to have a look at the pub interior. The low ceiling beams inside the 16^th Century Man of Kent, are definitely a case of “duck or grouse,” even for a shortie like me, but the pub was pleasantly full with diners, enjoying their Sunday lunches.

It was good to see the pub busting and full of people enjoying themselves, after the lean period of the past 14 months. It was good also to renew my acquaintance with this historic and picturesque old inn.

Footnote: photos of discarded or unwanted household items, don't exactly add to a post, so instead, I've included a couple of shots of our wildflower garden. This corner of the garden has really come into its own, following a slow start, due to one of the driest (and coldest) Aprils on record.

The beautiful game?

This is a short post, that has been lifted from a much longer article I have been writing. In the light of recent sporting events, it deserves a spot of its own, so here goes.

Saturday evening was spent watching the England v Ukraine match on TV, in the company of Mrs PBT’s. Like me, she is something of a fair-weather supporter, and like me is someone concerned about the hypocrisy of the whole thing. After last Tuesday’s Wembley clash with old rivals Germany, played before a crowd of 40,000 spectators, we couldn’t help noticing the lack of social distancing. is was in stark contrast to Saturday’s game against Ukraine, played in Rome, where there were clearly plenty of empty seats that were marked as,  “off-limits.”

Then there was the perhaps understandable euphoria when the England goals came, along with the jumping, shouting hugging and other forms of social contact that have been expressly forbidden during the two lock-downs. If an example was needed, we were restricted to just twelve mourners at dad’s funeral, back in early February, and all forms of singing – including hymns were prohibited.

Some might say the latter was a good thing, but contrast that with a load of drunken idiots screaming and jumping for joy, hugging, and kissing all and sundry within their reach. Now I’m not a “do-gooder,” and neither am I an apologist for the control freaks at SAGE, but at the same time I want this pandemic to be properly over in time for the lifting of restrictions in two weeks’ time. 

Something tells me that isn’t going to happen, so in the meantime, can someone tell me why large-crowd, sporting events are suddenly acceptable, seemingly without any form of control, but if I want to go out for a drink with a mate, at a local pub, tomorrow night, both of us will need to wear a mask when we enter the building (there were no masks worn at those football games), and we will have to (by law), supply our contact details.

There are double standards here, and the undoubted driving force is money. The same financial induced hypocrisy will also be evident at the Tokyo Olympics, which are going ahead in a country that is still in the grip of a Covid epidemic, whilst at the same time being in denial that there is a problem.

Rather strangely, other events such as rock concerts, that attract large crowds, are still on hold, so it seems very much a case of one rule for some, and different ones for everyone else. Don’t get me wrong, I want to get back to normal as soon as possible, but only if it makes medical sense to do so.

What none of us want to see, are Covid cases continuing to rise, followed by the spectre of yet another lock down. UEFA and the IOC are desperate not to lose revenue, by restricting these major sporting events, but when this comes on top of all the sacrifices small businesses have had to endure (particularly those in the hospitality sector) and puts at risk the gains, so painfully won, then you have to call into question the motives of these people.

 

Quantock Brewery reaches new milestone

Just over a week ago, I received an email from a nice lady who runs the PR company, that looks after  Quantock Brewery. She wondered if I would be interested in running a story, on the blog, about the latest beer from Quantock, produced to celebrate the company’s 1500^th brew.

The new beer is a limited-edition beer, called Milestone 1500, and the brewery describe it as a Mountain IPA. That’s not a beer style I’ve come across before, or indeed heard of, but it’s said to blend West Coast bitterness with East Coast smoothness.

We’re talking about the United States here of course, but Milestone 1500 is inspired by Quantock Head Brewer and Co-Founder Rob Rainey’s recipe for the brewery’s 500^th brew. The original hop combination of Centennial, Citra, Columbus, Mosaic and Simcoe has been used with a different yeast strain to gives a fruitier complexity to the beer. Milestone 1500 is described as having a smooth mouthfeel, citrus, and pine flavours with notes of peach. It has an ABV of 6.5% .

That’s enough beer-geek stuff for the time being, as the most important part is what does the beer actually taste like? The original communication did say samples were available on request, so on the basis of if you don’t ask, you won’t get, I rather cheekily asked for some. This was in return for an honest write-up on the blog about the new beer specifically and Quantock in general, and to enhance the story, I also asked for a few photos.

I’d been aware of Quantock Brewery, for some time, primarily because their beers seem to feature quite regularly on Flavourly. Because of this connection I'd been tempted to order one of the latter’s mixed cases, but then Pippa’s email arrived out of the blue.

The beer arrived first, after being given the thumbs up by Quantock Brewery’s senior management. What’s more, there were nine x 440ml cans, all looking very striking and modern. The selection included Milestone 1500, plus lots more very appealing sounding beers, including QPA – Session Pale Ale 4.0%, Titanium West Coast IPA 5.1% and Lager Than Life dry-hopped, lager 4.6%. Also included in the case are several other beers, each show-casing a single hop variety.

I’m looking forward to cracking a few of these cans open, when time permits, but here’s my take on Milestone 1500, the beer the press release was all about. Fruity and smooth, with plenty of mouthfeel, alongside ample citrus and pine flavours, set against a background of really juicy malt. At 6.5% , the beer packs quite a punch, but is still a pleasant and refreshing drink.

With the launch of the new beer following in the aftermath of the pandemic, Cheryl Ford, Managing Director and Co-Founder of Quantock Brewery commented, “With everything the last 18 months has brought, it has felt at times like we’ve had mountains to climb, but like many other businesses we’ve tried to keep innovating to survive and focus on our customers. Investing in our onsite canning line last summer meant we’ve been able to keep the beer flowing, keep up with demand and keep on creating new beers. Thanks to everyone who continues to support us, and I feel incredibly blessed to be able to welcome you back to our Taproom. Here’s to the next 1500 brews!” (Cheryl is pictured below.)

In a bid to provide some background material for this article, I also carried out some research into Quantock. The brewery was set up in December 2007 in Wellington Somerset, by Rob Rainey, who is still head brewer. Rob’s philosophy was to brew beers of the highest quality, using the finest natural ingredients.

In June 2015, due to continuing demand, Quantock Brewery moved to a larger facility at Bishops Lydeard, Somerset, alongside the southern terminus of the West Somerset Railway. The new site allowed them to not only to produce more beer but to also open a brewery shop and taproom.  

In February 2017, Quantock Ales received a major cash investment that enabled the team and the new investors to continue brewing not only their well-respected range of traditional ales whilst at the same time pushing forward to create new and exciting beers. This coming together of new and old allowed Quantock’s new range of modern craft, hop-led style beers to sit alongside their long-established, traditional beers.

The brew house is an 8-barrel size with 8 fermenters allowing Quantock to produce 5 brews per week and over 2,300 pints per brew. Currently the brewery can produce over 160 casks or 11500 bottles per week. Recently the brew house has started producing kegged beer supplying over 40 key kegs a week.

Getting back to the beers I’ve been sent, if they are every bit as good as the Milestone 1500 I’ve just enjoyed, then I look forward to sampling to sampling the others. I’m also tempted to book a break in Somerset’s Quantock Hills, especially as it’s a part of England I don’t know particularly well. That way I can try a few of the brewery’s more traditional cask ales, whilst at the same time familiarising myself with a new and different part of the country.

Fuggles ticks all the right boxes

Sunday looked as though it was going to be a complete wash-out, and whilst the day started off OK weather-wise, it wasn’t long before the drizzle started. This put paid to my carefully laid plan for cutting the grass, after breakfast.

Like the kind and considerate husband I am, I helped Mrs PBT’s with the housework instead, hoovering the house from top to bottom.  The vacuuming is usually my job anyway, but there was the added incentive this time of using our brand-new Shark, cordless hoover.

After several frustrating months of struggling with an underpowered, under performing and slowly dying cordless Dyson, the super-efficient Shark made the hoovering a doddle; although I won’t go so far as saying it was a pleasure! I also changed the bed linen, a task I still struggle with.

I then grabbed some computer time to compose a couple of emails, before looking at options for replacing the brittle and yellowing Perspex windows on the summerhouse. So, all in all Sunday morning was what I’d call a “doing day.”

That’s enough of this domestic stuff, as with the chores out of the way, I could head off to the pub, with a clear conscience. So, after making myself a quick sandwich, I informed Mrs PBT’s that I was off down the town, to pick up a couple of items missed from the previous day’s grocery shop. She of course, knows me better than that and quickly sussed out I was going to the pub, but as I said to her, “Why not?”

Why not indeed, it had been a long hard week, and a couple of hours in one of Tonbridge’s pubs would do me the world of good, but which one to choose? One thing was certain, I wanted to avoid the football – not that I’ve got anything against the beautiful game, it’s just that this time around, the Euro’s hold no interest for me whatsoever. Nothing to do with me having drawn North Macedonia, in the work’s sweepstake – I mean they didn’t even pick up the wooden spoon and end up bottom of the pile, denying me a £7 consolation prize.

The football meant the Nelson, the Forester’s, the Chequers, the Punch & Judy, the Man of Kent, and the George & Dragon were all out, which just left the Beer Seller and Fuggles. The latter won hands down, and not just on the choice of different beers. The Beer Seller is good at showcasing cask, whilst Fuggles offers a much wider range of different beers, including keg and foreign examples. Finally, I find the Beer Seller, with its alcoves and low, artificial ceilings, slightly claustrophobic, as opposed to Fuggles, which is far more open, bright and spacious.

Fuggles it was then, but not before diving into Sainsbury’s for those missing items, followed by a quick call into Matthew’s shop, Robert Dyas, for a couple of packs of screws. Dyas wasn’t particularly busy, but had what I wanted, and with the staff discount that Matthew enjoys, well worth calling in at.

Fuggles didn’t seem that busy either, and this allowed me a choice of where to sit. The friendly and knowledgeable member of staff, allowed me to sit at one of the window tables and this gave me an uninterrupted view of the whole pub.  After taking my details – no Dido Harding, failed track & trace App for me, I made my choice from one of the printed beer menus, which adorn every table.

I opted for a pint of Session Pale Ale from Cellar Head, and this did not disappoint. Cool, well-conditioned and bursting with flavour, this pale and refreshing straw-coloured pale ale from this Flimwell-based, local brewer, really was cask ale at its finest. I’m unable to submit beer scores, these days, due to me no longer being a member of CAMRA, but his one was approaching 4.5 NBSS.

I sat there savouring his excellent pint, and watching the comings and goings, as customers entered or left the premises. I reflected that this was my first visit to Fuggles, as a drinker since last summer. I had popped in during early December, last year, when the pub was functioning as a bottle shop, but with no garden, or indeed any real outdoor drinking space, Fuggles was only able to reopen to customers on May 17^th.

Another beer was called for, and this time I went for a keg option, in the form of Milk Shake from the strangely named Wiper & True Brewery. As the name suggests, this is a milk stout, produced by this Bristol-based outfit, and along with lactose and chocolate malt, vanilla pods are included in the brew. It may sound like a real cliché, but this beer really was pure silk in a glass.

I made that my last beer as I wanted to cadge a lift home from Matthew, after he’d finished work. Before leaving, I nipped to the Gents, stopping on the way for a brief chat with one of my old customers from the off-licence.

I definitely made the right choice, calling in at Fuggles, and I will certainly be back. As an added incentive, I have a £15 voucher to
spend in the bar, as a reward for being a loyal subscriber to FUGSCLUB - Fuggles home-delivery beer service, which I wrote about here. The club has been providing me with a selection of top-class dark ales, each month, and in fact I am drinking one now, as I write this piece, Heart of Chambers, from Dublin-based Whiplash Brewery is an excellent coffee and oatmeal, double porter, but at 7.5%, it’s definitely not a session beer!

 

A rare lunchtime pint

Regular readers of this blog will be aware that it’s a very rare occasion for me to visit a pub at lunchtime, when I’m working. There was a time, 30+ years ago when a lunchtime drink was a relatively normal experience, especially on a Friday, but those days have long gone, with many companies and organisations forbidding the practice altogether.

I am fortunate to work for a company where the occasional pint at lunchtime is perfectly acceptable, and no one will bat an eyelid. However, it is not exactly common practice, and as much as I enjoy my beer my lunchtimes normally consist of a brisk 35-minute walk in the delightful Kentish countryside. This is followed by a period of unwinding in front of my PC, with a cup of tea and my sandwiches, once I am back in the office.

These days there’s also the strong chance that a lunchtime pint will cause me to nod off at my desk. So rather than risk this happening, I try and keep business and pleasure, separate. Occasionally I do fancy a change, and last Wednesday was one of those days. I’m not sure why, but for some reason the appeal of a beer at lunchtime, entered my head and wouldn’t go away.

I didn't fight the feeling and instead I thought, why not? The sun was shining, and outside of our air-conditioned premises, it was a pleasant and warm summer’s day, so at 1pm sharp, I headed off, up the hill, to walk to the Greyhound at Charcott.

This was only my second visit to this local since pubs were permitted to re-open in April. It was outdoor service only back then, and whilst now customers are allowed to drink indoors, I still opted for a pint in the garden. It’s probably to do with being cooped up in an office all day, but with the sun shining, and the outside temperature just right, I could think of nothing finer than a pint outside.

I checked in, taking a quick look at the beer menu, as I did so. The latter was thoughtfully written out on a chalkboard outside, and there were several different choices. The young man who signed me in, said that Gun Brewery ‘s Chummy Bluster had just gone on sale and there was also a black IPA from Kent Brewery. Neither appealed.

Chummy Bluster is by far my least favourite of the Gun Brewery range, having sampled most of them during the first lockdown, courtesy of Flavourly.  Black IPA is a ridiculous, American fake beer style, and also an oxymoron, because how can a "pale ale" be black? Fortunately, local favourite Larkin’s Traditional, was also on tap, so after placing my order with the staff member, I headed off into the garden at the side of the pub.

There were a few drinkers, and the odd diner sitting outside plus, as far as I could make out, a few others in the pub itself. There was no sitting at the bar of course, as was the normal practice at the Greyhound, prior to the start of the pandemic.

Back in the garden, the majority of the tables were in the shade. With shades of "mad dogs and Englishmen," I managed to find one where I could sit in the full glare of the sun. You might too if you’d been stuck indoors all day, or you might be more sensible!

My pint arrived, looking slightly hazy, and with hindsight, perhaps I should have taken it back. There’s a problem doing that under current rules, when one is not supposed to approach the bar, but as luck would have it, the Larkin’s was perfectly drinkable, even though it wasn’t quite the pint I’d been craving for earlier.

I sat there soaking up the sun, and enjoying my beer, but all the while keeping a slight eye on the time. It was good just to be there, especially as there is something special about sitting out in an English pub garden, whist enjoying a well-crafted pint of English draught beer.

All things come to an end, and it didn’t take long for me to finish my pint, so after attracting the attention of a different staff member, and setting up with cash, I headed back to work. There was still time to make a cup of tea, grab my sandwiches and have a working lunch, sat in front of my computer. It wasn’t quite the ideal pint, but in the lottery that is sometimes cask ale, it wasn’t too bad either.

A couple of things to consider. Under normal circumstances, I don’t like rushing my beer, and having to keep one eye on my watch, isn’t my idea of a relaxing time. This wasn’t normal circumstances, as having spent the last couple of months beavering away at work, and at home – or rather in the garden, I really deserved to let my hair down.

Grabbing a swift lunchtime pint, was hardly doing the latter, but with my successor at work, settling in well, and most of the major garden projects drawing to a conclusion (there’s still the shed roof to re-felt), proper lunchtime sessions should begin to become much more common.