Christmas Day 2021

Christmas 2021 has, so far, been fairly similar to that of 2020. This is hardly surprising seeing as we are still in the midst of a pandemic. A few months ago, it appeared to be on its way out, but the nasty little blighter had a sting in its tail and has returned with a vengeance.  Admittedly, for the time being at least, restrictions aren’t any way as stringent as they were last year, but there’s still a feeling of wariness over mixing too much with our fellow human beings, and that is having an effect on the number of people leaving the sanctuary of their own homes.

That said, the Bailey family doesn’t tend to stray far from home at Christmas time, as all three of us prefer to enjoy the festivities within the comfort and familiar surroundings of our own four walls. However, with 12 full days away from the workplace (three of which have elapsed already), I just know that I will go stir-crazy if I don’t manage to get out and about.

The weather is looking pants at the moment, and the forecast for the next 10 days isn’t much better either. It appears that we are stuck with a series of rain-bearing fronts moving in from the Atlantic, across the bulk of the country, that will bring a gloomy end to what for many, has been a gloomy year.

I had planned to get some walking in, and I probably still will because, as the saying goes, there is no such thing as bad weather just inappropriate clothing. All the same, it’s not much fun making one’s way through the rain and the mud but having said that it would be immensely satisfying to knock a few more miles off from the still to be completed, North Downs Way. The end is nearly in sight, as far as that endeavour is concerned, and with around 35 miles left to cover, I should be walking into Farnham, to claim my end of trail certificate, sometime in the spring.

Meanwhile, on the home front, the kitchen cupboards are full to bursting point, which ties in with my theory that there’s something in the female psyche that goes with the hunter-gatherer instinct, which is to make sure the family doesn’t go hungry. We’re not going to go thirsty either (at least Matthew or I won’t), as there’s sufficient beer in the house, to float the proverbial battleship!

Talking about beer, I decided not to bother with a mini keg this year, as even though the contents of a 5-litre mini keg will keep for a week or so, it does get a bit boring sticking with the same beer over an extended period, especially when there are so many other beers to choose from. So, it’s bottles and cans only, instead of draught, but with a myriad of different beers I’ve managed to accumulate over the course of the past few months, I won’t want for variety.

It’s interesting that some of these bottles have been kicking around for several years, and they include an admittedly shrinking selection of monastery beers from the St Bernardus brewery, at Watou in Belgium, plus various other strong ales and barley that I’ve accumulated over the years. There’s an Imperial Stout from Gadd's, and another strong stout from Three Legs Cross, whose brewery I visited with Retired Martin, back in February 2019. No doubt most of these will be drunk over the course of the Christmas break.

As for the main event, there were just the three of us sitting down to an excellent roast turkey dinner, and it’s been the same for quite a few years now. I’m not complaining, as despite what traditionalists might say about Christmas being a time for family get together's, I’m not convinced. I’m also sure that I’m not alone in this. My father much preferred to spend a quiet Christmas in his own home, but dutifully went along with my mother, who liked to keep open house, or go off visiting other family members – normally that of the youngest of my two sisters.

Poor old dad used to end up driving all the time, and whilst he was never much of a drinker, missed out on the enjoyment of a beverage or two with his Christmas dinner. I can sympathise with that, as when I first moved in with Mrs PBT’s, some 36 years ago, her sister used to host the extended family at Christmas. With Eileen not driving, Christmas day was usually a pretty sober affair for me.

Yesterday was similarly restrained as whist I did rather over-indulge on the food front (I do the enjoy the vegetables and all the trimmings that go with Christmas diner), I was quite restrained on the drink front. After getting up late, we decided to skip breakfast. Mrs PBT’s got the turkey ready and in the oven, leaving Matthew and I to "pig-out" a bit on nuts and nibbles.

After exchanging and opening our presents, I found myself rather
tempted by the Terry’s Chocolate Orange that was included amongst my gifts. Chocolate and beer are not a good combination, so I had a mug of coffee instead. It wasn’t until the dinner was almost ready to be served that I cracked open a beer – Thornbridge Jaipur. Pale, hoppy and bursting with citrus and other fruity flavours, this was a good beer to start off with, and one to stimulate the appetite – not that it needed much stimulation!

I then opened a bottle of Fuller’s 1845, a beer that requires little in the way of introduction, and one which rarely does it disappoint. This fine, full-bodied, and well-hopped amber ale has accompanied my Christmas dinner for more years than I care to remember, so much so that it has become something of a tradition.

Also, as in previous years, we ordered our Christmas “bird” from Messrs. Wait & Rose, and true to form, they once again came up trumps. Mrs PBT’s cooked the turkey crown to perfection, and after letting it “rest” for the requisite time, served up some really tasty, juicy and succulent slices of meat. This, along with plenty of roast potatoes, roast parsnips, sprouts, broccoli, red cabbage, pigs in blankets, bread sauce and plenty of gravy, meant that once again, she had certainly done us proud.

I was unable to resist the temptation of "seconds," which meant leaving the Christmas pudding until the evening, and whilst I had intended accompanying the pudding with a bottle of Rochefort 10 that I’d left out on the back step to cool, in the end, I opted for coffee. My thinking was that whilst the rich, dark and nutty flavour of this 11.3% Trappist Ale, would have gone well with the vine and other fruits of the pudding, the sweet and creamy brandy sauce it was drowned in might have rather spoiled the match.

There was the usual dross on the TV, but as Mrs PBT’s is something of a tele-addict, there was no escape the run of “celebrity nonsense” and “Christmas Specials.” One thing that continues to puzzle me, is why does it always snow in these dreary series? It rarely snows in real life, any more at Christmas, so why do these lovey producers and directors think it has to in their “make believe” worlds?

We watched the re-make of the H.E. Bates “Darling Buds of May” series, the one starring Bradley Walsh, as a very different Pop Larkin, compared to that portrayed by David Jason. My curiosity had been sparked, after walking in onto the film set at West Peckham, back in October, and as someone familiar with this tiny village, I could see why it had been chosen as the backdrop to the Christmas Special.

The programme was slated by the critics, but if you accepted it for what it was, and just let your imagination run freely, then it was the ideal piece of light entertainment to round off Christmas Day. Whilst watching the episode, I enjoyed my final beer of the evening - a bottle of Aecht Schlenkerla Märzen, Bamberg’s best known, and most distinctive Rauchbier.

It was the perfect beer to round off the day, and on that note, I wish everyone a happy, peaceful, prosperous, safe and above all healthy New Year.

Tonbridge gets its own Christmas market

After the doom and gloom of the previous two posts, here’s an article designed to raise your spirits and bring some much-needed festive cheer into your lives. No surprises that it’s Christmas related, but it’s Christmas in a good way.

It kicks off with a visit Mrs PBT’s and I made nearly a fortnight ago now, to Tonbridge’s first ever Christmas Market.  Held in the grounds of the town’s historic 13^th Century castle, and billed accordingly as Castlemas, the market was just the tonic that Tonbridge needed in the run up towards Christmas. It certainly brought a touch of festivity to west Kent from northern Europe.

Christmas markets have a long tradition in central Europe, having originated during the late Middle Ages in the German speaking part of the continent. They gradually spread to other parts of Europe, as well as continuing to grow in their region of origin. In Germany for example, there were around 950 such markets during the 1970’s, and this figure had grown to around 3,000 by 2019. The number of Christmas markets in the UK has also increased dramatically, trebling from about 30 in 2007, to more than 100 a decade later.

The best-known Christmas market in the UK, as well as one of the longest running, is the Birmingham Frankfurt Christmas Market. It is the largest authentic German Christmas market outside of Germany or Austria and offers a wide range of traditional goods and gifts, alongside equally traditional food, and drink. Bratwurst, Schnitzels, roasted almonds, and gingerbread, all washed down with authentic German beer, Gluhwein, or hot chocolate.

Tonbridge’s first steps into the Christmas market tradition might still have a fair way to go, but it was pretty good for a first attempt. There

were plenty of stalls, housed in traditional wooden huts, featuring crafts items from local businesses, as well as a wide range of tasty snacks and goodies. Eileen bought a beret from Penny’s Boutique, a clothes emporium run by two sisters she knows, and there were plenty of other stalls, all waiting to take your money.

Of more interest to me, was the Jingle Bell Bar, a beer tent sponsored by and featuring beers from Constellation – the town’s newest brewery. They even had their newly launched Castlemas Ale on sale.  I forwent the beer in favour of a coffee, as I planned to pop back later without the car. As things turned out, I ended up at the Nelson instead, but that’s a different story.

There was also an entertainment venue, in the shape of the Igloo Theatre, a large inflatable hall, shaped like its namesake. The igloo was doing a roaring trade, with mums and their young children, queuing up to meet Santa Claus. The punters changed in the evenings with a diverse range of different acts, including several tribute bands. Judging by the reports I the local press, and also on social “meejah,” the event was a success, and well-received by local townsfolk.  There is every chance then, that it will return next year and become a welcome part in Tonbridge’s build up to Christmas.

I have been to a number of European Christmas markets, including those at Nuremberg, Rothenburg, Prague, Salzburg and even Barcelona. That last one though, didn’t really work for me, as even in early December the temperatures in Catalonia were in the high teens, and this didn’t exactly contribute to the “Christmassy” feel. The others though, all had the atmosphere, and presence,  one would normally expect during the run up to Christmas.

Nuremberg was the first of these markets that I visited, as part of a coach trip to Northern Bavaria, back in December 2007. I had joined the trip primarily because the famous brewing town of Bamberg was included on the itinerary, rather than for the Christmas markets, but after spending a rather beer-fueled lunchtime in the former, I re-boarded the coach which took us on to Nuremberg.

I didn’t actually spend that much time looking around the market, even though it is one of the largest and best known in Bavaria. Instead, I climbed up the hill and had a good look around the city’s most impressive medieval monument, and one which dominates the skyline. The Kaiserburg, or Imperial Castle, was a potent symbol of the power and importance of the Holy Roman Empire of Germany, with Nuremberg ranking as one of the empire’s most important cities.

I only had time to see a fraction of this massive fortress, although I was able to see quite a bit more, on a return visit eight years later, but the following day there was another Christmas market for the coach tour party to visit. The location was the fairytale medieval town of Rothenburg ob der Tauber, built on a hill, overlooking the Tauber River, to the west of Nuremberg.

The picturesque, and atmospheric cobbled stone streets, together with the half-timbered centuries’ old houses, of this compact town, embodies most peoples’ idea of Christmas, so it is small wonder that Rothenburg is the fifth most visited tourist attraction in Germany. The Christmas market, known in German, as the Reiterlemarkt, is held in the heart of the Old Town, in front of the City Hall, in the central marketplace.

With a light snow flurries falling, driven by a cold easterly wind, the Reiterlemarkt was certainly the place to get into the Christmas spirit, fortified by a cup of hot chocolate, and a lengthy Bratwurst, that must have been a foot long, in an equally lengthy, crusty bread roll. It was also the place to help dispel the hangover I was suffering from, due to the previous day’s over-indulgences. I could have stayed all day, but to the south of Rothenburg, there was another picturesque Franconian town for us to visit.

Dinkelsbühl is another attractive old town, but is more work-a-day, and less of a tourist attraction than its better known, northern neighbour. By this time though, I fancied a beer, and so after a stroll around the streets of Dinkelsbühl, including a look at the impressive, old town walls, I found a small pub, selling a locally brewed beer, thereby giving the Christmas market a miss. If truth be known, nightfall had arrived, it was rather cold, and I just fancied finding somewhere warm where I could relax, with a beer, before re-joining the coach for the journey back to our hotel.

That coach trip represented my introduction to German Christmas markets, but unfortunately the only photos I have of that mini break are a stack of non-digital images, taken on my trusty old Pentax 35mm SLR camera. Consequently, the majority of the non-local photos on this post, were taken on subsequent family trips to Prague and Salzburg.

Looking back at them has made me feel rather nostalgic for a touch of the run-up to Christmas, spent in the cold of a central European location, but given the current Covid-induced, travel restrictions, there is no point in getting all misty-eyed over past memories.

The pandemic has obviously taken its toll and this year, many German cities have once again been forced to cancel their Christmas markets, due to rising Covid-19 levels. Bavaria has canceled all such events, throughout the state and now, following the spread of  the Omicron variant, Germany has imposed tough quarantine restrictions for all visitors from the UK, as have several other European countries.

So fingers, and everything else crossed for next year, although given the proliferation of Christmas markets, here in the UK in recent years, there is no real need now to travel abroad to experience them, unless, of course you want some proper Christmassy weather!

Events are overtaking us - as they often have a habit of doing

It looks like my idea for a follow-up post, about the threat of a new lock-down, has been overtaken by events, so I’ll keep this one short.  I spent much of yesterday first helping Mrs PBT’s getting things ready for Christmas, before heading outside to tidy the garden, thereby taking advantage of the dry and relatively mild weather.

Consequently, I missed much of the news, and whilst that’s no bad thing, I gradually became aware that the lock-down story wasn’t going to go away. Hints and snippets had been surfacing throughout the day, even so I wasn’t that aware of them until I came in from the garden.  

These news snippets were all about a two-week lock-down, a so-called “firebreak,” which would commence the week after Christmas, and help slow the seemingly exponential spread of the Omicron variant of Covid-19. The reports were keen to emphasise that it wasn’t the government that were calling for these measures, but rather it was the scientists, advisors and so-called “experts” of SAGE who were insisting it was essential to curb social mixing in non-work-related indoor situations.

The government haven’t denied these stories, even though they would have to rely on the Labour opposition again to get such measures through Parliament, but they are content to let them run, as it plants a seed in the minds of the population at large. The fact that a large chunk of the population is susceptible to this sort of persuasion emboldens not just the politicians, but the control freaks of SAGE.

What we are seeing now, is very much “lock-down by stealth,” and the Johnson administration (or what’s left of it), are playing quite clever, for once, as this policy makes it appear that it is the people who are asking for another lock-down, rather than the government who are imposing it. Both SAGE and the UK government, seem to be ignoring the World Health Organisation, who state that lockdowns don’t work, but with a jittery British public chasing their heels, both parties may have felt compelled to act.

People are already taking heed of Chris Whitty’s ill-timed advice to restrict their socialising, with pubs reporting cancellations of parties, and other celebratory events, and Fuller’s announcing the closure of 20 of their busiest pubs in the capital. Locally, we have seen one prominent Tunbridge Wells pub, reporting that they will not be opening now until Boxing Day, but that might be a short-lived re-opening, because if the rumour mill is true, this so-called firebreak will come into effect on December 27^th.

I checked briefly this morning, and apart from the very welcome news of Brexit Minister, Lord Frost’s, resignation, there seemed little in the way of updates. That could all change once the Sunday morning discussion shows get going. I shall be giving them a wide berth, although I expect Mrs PBT’s will be glued to one or more of them, in between the usual cookery shows.

I’m off out with the boy, over to Tunbridge Wells, so he can pick up a few, last minute Christmas things. Perhaps we can find a hostelry whilst there, to enjoy a drop of festive cheer, while we still can – “suitably distanced,” of course!

 

Here we go again - but this time it's lock-down by stealth!

With Christmas fast approaching, we unfortunately seem, once again, to be on familiar territory.  Think back to last year when after categorically stating that Christmas celebrations would go ahead as normal, Prime Minister Johnson was forced into a dramatic U-turn.

Things had been developing for some time, with the alpha, or Kent variant of Covid-19 spreading rapidly across the country, bringing in its wake a wave of hospitalisations and deaths. In the face of mounting evidence, Johnson was forced into re-imposing restrictions on the hospitality trade, travel, workplaces, shops, and businesses along with strict rules about families mixing, outside their own “bubbles” (stupid term). In short, the PM was forced into an embarrassing U-turn and had to “cancel” Christmas - something he said he would never do.

Things were very different back then, as the roll-out of an effective vaccine against Covid-19 was in its infancy. 12 months on, and with most of us having received at least two shots of vaccine, and a substantial number having received a third dose – the so-called “booster” vaccine, you might be forgiven for thinking we were nearing the end of this wretched pandemic.

And so, it appeared, but just over three weeks ago, news broke about a “variant of concern” that had been discovered in South Africa. This heavily mutated Corona virus, notated by the Greek letter Omicron, was spreading rapidly and was likely to be heading our way.

Fortunately, the government acted quickly, this time around, and suspended flights to the UK from southern Africa. This was in sharp contrast to their dithering over the delta variant, which originated in India, but despite their quick-thinking Omicron was soon spreading rapidly, throughout the population at large.

Fast forward to the present and the media is awash with stories of how fast Omicron is spreading. The UK’s Chief Medical Officer, Chris Whitty, found himself in hot water, particularly from a number of senior Conservative MP’s for requesting that people should limit their socialsing over the Christmas period, and it appears that many people have taken his nannying advice to heart.

Following on from the CMO’s speech the other day, many people have been frightened into modifying their behaviour, although the government’s advice appears to be saying, carry on as normal. Weighing into an already confused situation, are the newspaper and public broadcasters who, working on the basis that bad news sells copy, seem hell-bent on forcing us into another lock-down. This view is reinforced by the stay-at-home, “protect the cheeldren” Mums Net brigade, oblivious of the fact that their precious little darlings are probably the biggest plague spreaders of the lot!

Downing Street is of course insisting that there won’t be another lock-down, but instead we are seeing a situation that many are calling “lock-down by stealth.” On commuter routes into London, passenger numbers are already way down on what they were, just a week ago, as, “stay at home” office workers desert their desks, in favour of their kitchen tables. These namby-pamby, remote workers, didn’t need much of an excuse to abandon their offices and slob around once again at home, perhaps attending the occasional, token, “Zoom meeting.”

The upshot of this contradictory advice can be seen in the already struggling hospitality industry. Hard-hit throughout the pandemic, the sector is currently experiencing a wave of cancelled bookings, with Christmas parties bearing the brunt of this. After the total washout of Christmas 2020, this is the last thing that pubs and restaurants needs.

I saw evidence of this for myself on Thursday afternoon, when I took a walk down into Tonbridge town centre. My mission, as decreed by Mrs PBT's, was to post the Christmas cards, so having popped the local ones through the relevant neighbour’s letter boxes, I queued up at what is now the town’s only post office. This is a section of shop space towards the rear of WH Smith’s, a sorry reminder of a once far more important business and operation.

Like most towns of any size, Tonbridge once had its own Crown Post Office. These were large post offices, directly owned and managed by what was originally the General Post Office (GPO). Many were distinctive and quite attractive buildings, dating back to the period between the two World Wars. They can still be seen on many High Streets, although many have alternative uses. Tonbridge’s former Crown Post Office* is now the town’s JDW outlet – the Humphrey Bean.

I digress, but the point I am making is that as the demand for postal services has declined, due to much quicker and far less costly means of communication, such as email, the Post Office has found it cheaper to rent out floor space, in separate, and totally unconnected establishments, such as Smith’s.

Mission accomplished, I fancied a pint, despite Mrs PBT’s warning not to set foot in a busy and crowded pub. Unfortunately, she is someone who, swayed by constant reports in the media, is convinced that it’s the end of days on our streets, and in particular the nation’s pubs.

Determined to prove her wrong, I thought I’d find out what was happening on the ground, so to speak. The Beer Seller, which was the first pub I walked past, seemed more or less empty – unusual for 3.30pm on a Thursday afternoon. The aforementioned Humphrey Bean also looked quiet, although in both cases my observations were made by peering through the window.

Next up was the Gatehouse, on the opposite side of the road. That too seemed much quieter than I imagined it would be. Finally, I reached my destination Fuggles, one of the town’s premier beer outlets, and somewhere I knew that wouldn’t compromise on customer and staff safety. Donning my mask, even though it’s not compulsory at present, I walked in.

Only two of the tables were occupied, each by just two persons. There were two members of staff behind the bar. They were also masked, as this has been Fuggles’ policy ever since full indoor service resumed, back in the summer. I ordered myself a drink, a rather nice pint of Gadd’s Yule Special – Little Cracker, a 5.0% Kentish Ruby Ale.

I asked the barmaid if I could take my drink outside, and she of course said yes.  thereby placating Mrs PBT’s unfounded fears about putting myself at risk. There is bench, out on the pavement, primarily for the use of smokers, but with none present, it suited my purpose of enjoying a pint whilst not in the confines of a pub.

Fortunately, the weather was quite mild, although I have to say the diesel fumes from a passing bus, caught up in queuing traffic, weren’t particularly pleasant. The beer was good, and whilst I am not normally a fan of red ales, the inclusion of some rye malt in the grist was a pleasant and flavoursome touch.

After finishing my pint, I made my way home, and made a point of telling my good lady wife, that I had enjoyed a beer OUTSIDE of a pub. She of course, knew that I would grab a beer whilst down the town, but used the news about the pubs being quiet, as reinforcement that people were heeding the warnings.

In a way, she was right, and this afternoon the Evening Standard couldn’t wait t break the news that the daily Covid infection rates were at their highest since the start of the pandemic. No mention of course, that testing is also at an all-time high, so much so that pharmacies have reported a shortage of lateral flow test kits. We have witnessed this at work, with some members of staff testing themselves on a daily basis, even though there is clearly no need to.

Meanwhile the madness continues. I might post another article on this tomorrow, but on the other hand being heartedly sick of the whole Covid debacle, I probably won’t.  

*Footnote: One of the less pleasant tasks my father had to perform, during his final days of working for the Royal Mail, was travelling around south-east Kent, in order to oversee the closure of some of the smaller Crown Offices, in places like New Romney and Hythe. He was glad to retire after that soul-destroying task! 

Winter ales at the Nelson

A winter beers festival has been running  at Tonbridge’s Nelson Arms since the end of last week, so it seemed rude not to go along, take a look and try some of the carefully selected ales on offer. I wasn’t being facetious with that last statement, as the beers had all been hand-packed and hand collected as well, by Nelson licensee, Matthew (Matt) Rudd.

Although most of the beers were dark, a few weren’t, and these included Victoria Bitter from Earl Soham Brewery near Stowmarket, and Black Country favourite, Holden’s Black Country Bitter. There were also a couple of heavy weights, in the form of Prince of Denmark, from Harvey’s and Baltic Trader Export Stout, from Green Jack Brewing, near Lowestoft.

Matt told me, and another customer, how he had embarked on a circular trip, taking in, amongst others, breweries such as Church End, Holdens, Blue Monkey, Castle Rock, Earl Soham, Lacon’s, Green Jack and Bishop Nick. That sounded like quite a tour and quite a haul as well.

 The “other customer” was a chap I got talking to, whilst standing at the bar. He was quizzing Matt as to why he didn’t pick up any Batham’s beers, when he stopped to collect the Holden’s.  Matt took the hint and said he would try and get hold of some Batham’s when he returns the Holden’s empties.

My newfound “friend” turned out to be a fellow called Brian, who had travelled over, by train, from Maidstone.  Given his enthusiasm for, and knowledge of all thing’s beer, I guessed he was a CAMRA member, and I was right. He turned out to know several people that I know in the Maidstone branch, so I asked him to pass on my best wishes, the next time he sees these individuals.

The pub was quite full, with a crowd in the public bar watching some motor race or other – something to do with a Grand Prix!  Now I’ve never been that interested in this so-called sport, which seems to rely on which team can change a set of tyres the quickest, and which driver can slip past the one in front, when it comes to a corner. Many people are fans, so it was good to see the “public bar” area full of Formula One devotees.

The area at the other end of the pub, which is around the corner of the bar, seemed popular with diners, getting tucked into the Nelson’s popular Sunday roast dinners.  There was a roast dinner waiting for me at home, so I was content to stick with the beer. I started off with a pint of Holden’s, thinking that the last time I enjoyed a glass of this tasty Black Country Bitter, was just over two years ago, in the bar at Codsall Station. Yesterday’s pint at the Nelson was every bit as good as that one, which came at the start of a boozy day out in the neighbouring Shropshire town of Shifnal.

I then moved on, at Matt’s suggestion, to the Old Ale, from Kent Brewery. Regular readers will know I enjoy a drop of the dark stuff, and old ales, which are normally of reasonable strength, have always been amongst my favourites.  So, after tracking down some Harvey’s Old Ale, the Sunday before at the Elephant’s Head, and now a pint of a slightly stronger old ale, was enough to put me in dark beer heaven.

Matt claimed that particular gyle of old, had been maturing in a tank at Kent Brewery, since last year. It was an interesting beer, with more than a touch of liquorice lurking in the background. Whilst I was getting stuck into my pint, Brian from Maidstone, left to catch his train, but I wasn’t on my own for long as a couple of local CAMRA members, Jon, and Claire, called in.

They were just in time for a spot of lunch and managed to grab an adjacent table to me. Jon was straight in on the old, with Claire, who was chauffeuring him around, on the orange juice. I hadn’t really seen either of them since before the last lock-down, so it was good to have a bit of a catch up on both the beer and the CAMRA front.

Time was getting on, and I had only really popped in for a swift one. I couldn’t leave though without sampling at least one of the strong ales that Matt had on tap, and seeing as I’ve tried, and enjoyed, the 7.5% Prince of Denmark from Harvey’s, in previous years, my choice had to be the Baltic Trader, Export Stout from Green Jack Brewery. With an abv of 10.5%, this rich dark ale doesn’t take any prisoners.

Fortunately, the pub had thought of this, and was offering the beer in 1/3^rd, 2/3^rd, half-pint, or full pint measures. I opted for the smallest of these, and at £2.60, compared to £7.50 for a full pint, it was worth paying the small, extra premium for a small glass of this fearsome beer. The two stronger beers were dispensed straight from casks in the cellar, presumably to minimise wastage as well as leave room on the pumps for the more standard strength beers.

When tasted, this full-bodied Export Stout certainly didn’t disappoint. I described the beer on Untappd as “Liquid dynamite. Thick, dark, and like liquid molasses.” Others described it as being packed full of preserved fruit, with liquorice and chocolate notes, but whatever the description, it was certainly a beer not to be missed.

Green Jack Brewing are based in Lowestoft, which makes them Britain’s most easterly brewery. The brew-plant is hosed in an old smoke house in the heart of Lowestoft’s old town, and Green Jack beers can be found all over the country. A wide and eclectic range of beers is produced, including a smoked beer, which is highly appropriate, given the brewery’s home in an old smoke house. 

I left, after finishing my glass of this very special beer, but as the festival still has another week to run, I’m quite likely to be making a return visit to the Nelson before next weekend is out.

Christmas party 2021 - no, not that one!!

I mentioned at the beginning of the month that I had been to two Christmas parties, which had been held on consecutive days. They were two very different events, and the first – the British Guild of Beer Writers’ Annual Awards, was just that - an awards ceremony, rather than a party in the accepted definition of the word. Both were enjoyable in their own ways, but it is the second of these events that I want to write about here, in a little more detail.

My company’s Christmas dinner took place on the afternoon of Friday 3^rd December. It was the first, proper sit-down meal we had had in three years, because 2019’s event, was a buffet, rather than a more formal meal, and last year’s event didn’t take place, for obvious reasons. All agreed that whilst the buffet, get-together, held at the Greyhound in Charcott, had been enjoyable, with some excellent food and a good range of beers, the pub itself was more than a little crowded.

I’m right in saying that with just under 40 members of staff on our books, the cramped nature of a small country pub, did make it rather difficult to mingle.  So, with some semblance of normality appearing at the end of September (what happened there?), the decision was taken to return to the much larger Little Brown Jug pub, which is just over five minutes’ walk away from our office and factory in Chiddingstone Causeway.

During my 15-year stint with the firm, the Jug has hosted quite a few Christmas dinners on behalf of the company, so it seemed logical to return there. In the early days of my employment, the dinners were evening affairs, which saw spouses and/or significant others invited along. The company also paid for, and arranged taxis to transport the party-goers to and from the pub – a strange decision give there is a railway station (Penshurst), literally across the road from the pub.

As the company increased in size, such events became unviable, and the decision taken to return to a sit-down meal, for staff only, held from mid-afternoon onwards. This was fine with the vast majority of employees, and fine by me as well, given the Jug’s reputation for good, heart food. Not so fine has always been the pub's less than exciting beer range, which never seems to get out of second gear.

This is a minor gripe, and the other Friday was of no real importance to me, given the surfeit of different beers I’d enjoyed the previous evening. Friday is actually my day off, but I was quite happy to wander down to Tonbridge station and take the 13.01 train, for just two stops to Penshurst.  

If you are wondering why the station is called Penshurst, rather than Chiddingstone Causeway, it’s because the latter settlement grew up around the station, rather than the station coming to an existing village. When the rail line first opened in 1836, as part of the first London-Dover route, settlements along the route were of secondary importance. Although Penshurst is 2 miles away, it was the nearest village at the time – hence the name.

Due to the timings of the train, I was amongst the first to arrive, but given the beers I’d indulged in the previous evening, was in no hurry to start drinking again.  This continued to be the case as the afternoon gave way to evening.  As mentioned previously, the beer offering was a little disappointing. The Tonbridge beer had been taken of sale - cloudy, apparently.  This left Larkin’s Traditional – a bit of a staple around these parts, plus St Austell Tribute. I didn’t fancy either, so stuck to water, plus non-alcoholic ginger beer.

The food on the other hand was excellent. I tend to go for something different at these events, rather than stick with traditional turkey. After all I will get enough of that at home, over the Christmas period. So, with a starter of citrus cured salmon, a main of poached smoked haddock, Welsh Rarebit – served on a bed of spinach and creamy mash potato, and a dessert of apple and plum crumble, my meal was anything but Christmassy. It was extremely good though, and there was plenty of it.

Whether or not the party went ahead, was somewhat debatable, at the beginning of that week, given the emergence of the Omicron variant of Covid. The consensus amongst management was the event should still take place, but the company would ask all attendees to take a lateral flow test, on the morning of the party. This was voluntary, rather than compulsory, and had little to do with Omicron.

The main reason was that having gone right through the pandemic, virtually unscathed, we had an outbreak of Covid amongst the workforce, some three weeks previously. Six members of staff were affected, all but one of whom had been double jabbed. The un-vaccinated individual was the person who initially shared the virus with the rest of her colleagues and was also the one who experienced the most severe illness.

We have since had a further two colleagues test positive, and again both these people were double vaccinated. Being of a certain age, I received my booster, three weeks ago, as did Mrs PBT’s, so with a flu vaccination a well, my left arm is starting to feel like pin cushion! I’m not really sure what to think, apart from two things. The first is that as society as a whole has opened up, following the lock-downs at the start of the year, people are mingling more. This affords more opportunity for the virus to spread.

The second point relates to waning immunity – something the scientists were aware of for quite some time. The fact that the fully vaccinated members of staff experienced relatively mild symptoms, whilst the unvaccinated individual was laid up in bed, is evidence that whilst the vaccines can’t always prevent infection, they can limit its severity AND make transmission far less likely. Because of that last point, we strongly suspect but, of course, can’t prove that the unvaccinated person was responsible for infecting the rest of her colleagues.

 Omicron too, now seems inadvertently linked to Christmas parties – ones which the government is still pretending didn’t happen. With the proverbial brown stuff, about to hit the fan, what better way to deflect criticism of the Prime Minister, than by calling a press conference and beefing up the anti-Covid measures. Strange times, indeed!!