Same old, same old

It was back to work for me yesterday, but only for a couple of days. It was good to catch up with colleagues after the long Christmas - New Year break, but I must admit I’m feeling quite lethargic, at the moment.

It’s probably something to do with the time of year, but just in case it was something more sinister, I performed a lateral-flow test at home, yesterday morning. Fortunately, it turned out negative, but regular testing for Covid, is not a route I want to go down. Some people seem obsessed with the idea though, testing themselves every time they leave the house – even if they’re just popping out for a loaf of bread. Small wonder that lateral-flow test kits are in short supply!

Moving swiftly on, the lethargy has extended to blogging, but here I think it’s more a question of finding something novel and new o write about, instead of repeating stuff from the past. As an example of this, I started writing about Dry January, before realising I had written similar pieces about giving up the booze in 2015, 2019 & 2020. So, not wishing to repeat myself, or bore my readers, I aborted the piece.

This got me thinking and looking for other examples of a season-related theme cropping up on an annual basis. I didn’t have to look far, as “Old Ales” crop up in 2015, 2015, 2018, 2019 & 2021, proving just how seasonal some topics are – or how predictable I am becoming!

So, with nothing much new to write about, at the moment, I will sign off in a moment, and look for inspiration elsewhere.  The forecast is looking half decent for tomorrow, so a walk down into Tonbridge and around the Sportsground, might be in order. It will certainly help blow the cobwebs away, and who knows, I might just have to call in somewhere for a swift pint – Old Ale, of course, which means I won't be doing Dry January!

 

2021 - The Year in Beer

Ladies and gentlemen, boys, and girls, here at last is my review of 2021, from the perspective of the themes of beer and travel. As with the preceding year, 2021 was very much a year disrupted by the Coronavirus known as Covid-19, and the impact this pesky little piece of RNA had upon everyone’s plans, dreams, and general well-being, to say nothing of their general lives, is something that cannot be over-estimated.

 The year got off to a poor start, with pubs, bars, restaurants, leisure clubs and other indoor places where people gather to socialise, shut for the first quarter of the year. The one ray of sunshine that seemingly offered a way out of this mess, was the development and roll-out of a number of anti-Covid vaccinations.

Being of a certain age, Mrs PBT’s and I received our first dose at the start of February, followed by our second shot at the end of April. That wasn’t the end of it, though as we both received “booster injections” in mid-November. Throughout 2021, the virus continued playing cat and mouse, with the emergence of a number of “variants” that were different from the strain that first appeared in Wuhan at the end of 2019. We have therefore seen alpha, delta and now omicron variants, each one more infectious than the previous, as the virus continues to evolve and mutate. 

 It is too early to say how this is all going to end, and I’m certainly not going to make any rash predictions. I will though, be following the science, and by that, I mean observing the continuing research into Covid-19 that is taking place, as opposed to the “pseudo-science” conducted by the doom-mongering mathematical modelers of SAGE, who seem determined to always present the worst-case scenario.

On a deeply personal note, I lost my dear old dad on 6^th January, (Twelfth Night). He was six months short of his 90^th birthday, and whilst his death was attributed to Covid, the family’s belief was advancing Alzheimer’s was the prime cause of his death, rather than Coronavirus. As one of the two executors of dad’s will, I was left to make the funeral arrangements, and to start sorting the estate out. This is because the other executor was the elder of my two sisters, and she lives in the United States.  

The funeral took place at  the Breckland Crematorium, at Scoulton, just outside the Norfolk town of Watton, which is close to where my parents spent the last quarter century of their lives. With strict lock-down procedures in place, there were equally strict rules governing the funeral. Sadly, the only people in attendance, apart from the funeral directors and staff, were my immediate family and that of my younger sister.

There was no wake and nowhere in which to meet up after the service. With restaurants closed and hotel accommodation severely restricted by Covid regulations, the Bailey contingent drove up to Watton and back, on the same day, as did my sister and her family, who live in Nottingham.  I then had the complicated task of settling dad’s estate, a matter I placed in the hands of a local solicitor. It took until August before the estate was eventually wound up and the beneficiaries paid out, and from what I understand that was pretty good going!

By April, the UK government felt sufficiently confident to begin a gradual easing of restrictions, in their so-called “Roadmap out of lock-down.” People were allowed to gather in outdoor settings, such as pub gardens, or restaurants equipped with similar facilities.  Fortunately, April was a mainly dry month, but it was definitely on the cold side!  

I recall meeting up with group of friends, in the garden of the Nelson Arms, Tonbridge, a few days after my birthday. It was fine all the time the sun was shining, but as soon as it began to set, the temperatures nose-dived, and I was certainly glad to have brought some extra layers of clothing along, to keep out the cold. The following month, my wife met up with a group of friends for an outdoor meal – postponed from Christmas 2020. It was equally cold that evening, so a number of environmentally unfriendly space-heaters, strategically placed around the pub garden came into their own. 

The programme of tentative re-opening was extended to allow customers to eat and drink in an indoor setting, but with table service only. It wasn’t until July that restrictions were finally lifted, completely, and customers were allowed to mingle freely, buy their own drinks at the bar, and even drink there if desired. 

 In mid-April, I passed a major milestone in my life, by reaching state retirement age, qualifying, on top of my pension, for a pass entitling me to free bus travel. Six months later, I switched to part-time working, along with a new position. I now work just three days a week and am enjoying my newfound sense of freedom.

 The highlight of the year for both Mrs PBT’s and I was a four-night cruise to Liverpool and back, on the Queen Elizabeth. This was part of the Cunard group’s “return to cruising” programme, which involved a number of strict anti-Covid protocols. 

 These included a requirement for all passengers to be double-vaccinated, the wearing of masks in communal indoor settings, and the ability to demonstrate a negative lateral-flow test, prior to boarding. The ship didn’t leave UK territorial waters, and passengers were only allowed off the vessel at Liverpool, on pre-booked excursions.

None of this mattered to Eileen and me as it was just nice to get away from it all, whilst enjoying being pampered onboard ship.  Beer-wise, I brought a stash of cans onboard with me, Pilsner Urquell and Hawkshead Pale, to supplement the rather expensive beers available on the ship. There was a range of three beers, specially brewed for Cunard by Wiltshire-based, Dark Revolution. These were well worth trying despite the premium price, with the Cunard Black – Biscotti Breakfast Stout, worthy of special mention.. 

 The four nights we spent on the Queen Elizabeth, plus the night in Winchester, prior to sailing, represented the only time away from home, during 2021. That represents an all-time low for me as, although I managed to get some walking in, and finished several more sections along North Downs Way, unlike the previous year there were no overnight stops.

Whilst on the subject of hiking, and long-distance footpaths, I treated myself to a new pair of boots. New footwear was something that was long-overdue, as the soles had parted company from the uppers of my decade old, trusty pair of Trespass boots. I really splashed out, this time around, opting for a pair of hand-crafted, leather Bhutan boots from legendary Bavarian boot-makers, Meindl. Given the outlay involved, I also took the trouble of getting my feet measured and having the boots properly fitted at a well-known Outdoor Clothing chain of stores. 

 There were two more highlights to 2021, the first one being the “Codgers’” trip to Stockport, for a “Proper Day Out.” This represented my first long-distance rail trip for 18 months – the last one having taken place about three weeks prior to country going into lock-down. That too was a “Proper Day Out” with Burton-on-Trent the destination.

Local blogger, Pub Curmudgeon, aka Mudge, was our guide, leading us on a circular tour of some of Stockport’s finest hostelries. In a town dominated by Robinson’s Brewery, the latter’s beers obviously featured prominently on the schedule, but for me it was good to visit a couple of Samuel Smiths’ pubs, as well. Sam’s only cask offering, Old Brewery Bitter (from wooden casks, mind you), isn’t to everyone’s taste, but I have long been a fan, and the chance to enjoy a few pints, in some unspoilt pubs was an experience not to be missed.

We also visited a Holt’s pub, plus the Petersgate Tap – a modern free house, offering an interesting selection of both cask and craft beers. A hearty, filling and keenly priced pub lunch was also enjoyed by the majority of us, at the Arden Arms, a 19^th Century, brick-built pub, boasting three rooms, and a reputation for good food.

The visit to Stockport, allowed me to wallow in a bit of nostalgia, as for awhile I had lived in nearby Romiley, during my student days. It was over four decades since I had last set foot in Stockport, and whilst much had changed, there was still sufficient that was familiar, and which reminded me of those earlier times. The return rail journey too was enjoyable, despite having to wear a face-covering, and I am looking forward to many more such journeys, as well as days out, once our dalliance with this latest strain of Covid-19 is out of the way.

The other highlight for both Mrs PBT’s and I was seeing Sir Tom Jones performing live at Paddock Wood Hop Farm. Tom put on an amazing performance, demonstrating that at 81 years of age, he still hasn’t lost it. If anything, his voice appeared more powerful than ever, and his stage presence was unquestionable. He opened with a couple of numbers from the start of his career, What’s New Pussycat, It’s Not Unusual and Green, Green Grass of Home, before moving onto some newer material, such as Sex Bomb, and She’s a Lady.

The climax of the performance for us both though was Tom’s stunning rendition of Delilah. The band really pulled out all the stops as well for this number, and I have to say that they too, were amazing.  Tom had certainly gathered together some world class musicians, to act as his backing groups, and as if to compliment the virtuoso players, the sound quality was crisp and crystal clear.

The final two and a half months of the year have been spent enjoying my extended leisure time. I have carried out a few, small-scale home improvements and, for the first time since I can’t remember when, I am more or less up to date with the garden. In addition, as mentioned earlier, I knocked of a few more sections of the North Downs Way.

Son Matthew and I enjoyed a full-on, father and son day out in London, during which we visited three classic pubs, listed on CAMRA’s National Inventory. We had a pub lunch at one of the pubs, the Salisbury, close to Covent Garden, and also walked our socks off, taking in sights which varied from Hays Galleria, Tower Bridge, St James’s Palace, and Kings Cross station.

A month or so later I returned to the capital for the British Guild of Beer Drinkers’ Awards Dinner. Held in the lavish surroundings of the Institution of Civil Engineering, at One Great George Street, in the shadow of the Houses of Parliament,  the evening provided the chance to catch up with other Guild members, along with fine-dining and ample supplies of beer.

With beers carefully chosen to match the food, it was two offerings from north of the border that really stood out.  Wolf Dark Scottish Ale 6.0%, from Windswept Brewing of Lossiemouth, went really well with the main course of roast lamb rump, whilst the Waiting for the Rain 11% Imperial Stout, from Loch Lomond Brewery was a good, but high-octane match for the dessert of chocolate fondant with morello cherry compote dessert.

The following afternoon I attended my company’s Christmas dinner, in the slightly less opulent setting of the Little Brown Jug, at Chiddingstone Causeway. There was more excellent food on offer although after the previous evening’s excesses, I went very easy on the beer. After missing out last Christmas, due to the pandemic, it was good to spend time with colleagues, enjoying each other’s company, in a non- work-related setting.

Finally, unlike pre-pandemic times, there are no special category awards, loosely-based around the “Golden Pints“ idea that has been running for the past 10 years or more. There is still a:

Best Day Out - Stockport.

Best Location(s) to Enjoy a Beer - Elephant’s Head, Hook Green & Rock Inn, Chiddingstone Hoath.

Best New Pub Find - Miner's Arms, Dunton Green. 

Best Beer on Home Turf - Harvey’s Sussex Best, but that’s about it.

As for 2022, after the past two years I’m keeping my mouth shut and saying nothing. I’m sure I’m not the only person who’s thinking this way, either!

 

A classic, Victorian, street-corner local - the Garland at Redhill

I’m still not in the mood for completing my review of 2021, so this piece, about the cracking little boozer, I made a brief visit to yesterday will have to do instead. It demonstrates all that is good about traditional pubs, and encapsulates the joy of that spontaneous, “spur of the moment” visit.

The renowned Sussex brewers, Harvey & Sons of Lewes, have 45 tied houses, spread across Southeast England, with the majority concentrated in East Sussex. The company operate three pubs in London, and slightly more in Kent, but as far as I am aware, there is only one tied Harvey’s pub in Surrey.

That pub is the Garland, in the rather work-a-day town of Redhill, just under nine miles distance from Gatwick Airport. I had known of the Garland’s existence for several years, but somehow never managed to visit it, so when I found myself in Redhill yesterday, with just under an hour to kill, it seemed the perfect opportunity to put that right.

I was on my way home, by train, after a morning spent hiking across the top of  Box Hill, as part of my ongoing efforts to complete North Downs Way, long-distance footpath. You can read about my walk here but having decided to leave the last two miles of that particular section for another day, I caught the train from Dorking to Redhill, from where I would be able to take another train home to Tonbridge.

Unfortunately, the trains didn’t connect very well, and as the service from Dorking pulled into Redhill station, I witnessed the one to Tonbridge, pulling away from the opposite platform. The next train to Tonbridge wasn’t due for another hour, which provided the perfect opportunity for a quick, “in-between trains” pint. The question was, with a number of pubs to go for, which one should I choose?’

As my train pulled into Redhill, I had already noticed one possible candidate, in the form of the Home Cottage, a Young’s pub, on a hill, overlooking the station. In the early days of West Kent CAMRA, it was quite common for branch members to take the train from Tonbridge to Redhill, for an evening’s drinking at the Home Cottage. On several occasions, we met up with members from the neighbouring Reigate & Redhill branch, for a joint social.

A return visit seemed long overdue, but whilst I was contemplating that, another idea was taking shape in my mind, which of course was a visit to the Garland. A quick check on What Pub and Google Maps confirmed the pub was only seven minutes’ walkway, so off I went, pleased in the knowledge that the Garland was much closer to Redhill station, than I had thought. I saw the pub as soon as I passed under the bridge, where the line from Dorking comes in, and made a beeline for this classic Victorian, street corner local.

There is always that mixed feeling of excitement and anticipation, that comes when you enter an unfamiliar pub for the first time. I felt exactly that as I climbed the steps up from the street and stepped into the pub. The bar was directly in front of me, but seat back a fair way from the entrance. To my left was a table occupied by around five to six drinkers, all male and engaging in what seemed to be some good-natured banter. There was a single male drinker, sat at the bar, plus one other solitary customer, over to the right.

I did my usual, quick visual scan of the bar, noticing the availability of Dark Mild, IPA and XXX Old Ale, all Harvey’s beers, of course, as one would expect in one of the brewery’s tied pubs. It was the Old Ale I was after, as it only seems available in Harvey’s own houses, and my desire of this classic, seasonal dark ale, that formed a major part in my decision to seek out the Garland.

I stood watching with keen anticipation, as the barman pulled my pint. It certainly looked inviting as it was place on the counter in front of me. I took hold of it and made my way to a table in the opposite corner of the pub, keen to take the weight off my feet after the exertions of the morning’s hike.  The Old was certainly true to form, and in very good condition. I supped it with the thirst of a man who felt he had really deserved that pint, but not with the speed of a person who thinks he can squeeze in another.

I didn’t want to miss the train again, so after savouring the remainder of my glass, I drank up, ready to depart. Before doing so I listened with amusement to the conversations going on at the table to my left. I got the impression that the group were motorcycle enthusiasts, as bikes seemed to be the main topic of conversation, but there was another moment of pure pub theatre when the barman wandered over to their table and took the order for another round of drinks.

The barman was quite nattily dressed, with silk-waistcoat and a bow-tie. He asked the group if they had noticed he was dressed for a special occasion; the occasion being the seeing in of the New Year, later that evening.  They of course had and complemented him on his sartorial elegance. One drinker said they might well surprise him later, by dressing up themselves.

I would guess that the gentleman in question was several years older than myself, and when I returned my empty glass, he wished me a pleasant evening. I felt a short explanation, as to my reasons for visiting the Garland was in order, so after also wishing me a safe journey home, he expressed a desire to see me again, should I ever find myself stranded at Redhill station.

It was a nice touch and to me was the mark of a true professional behind the bar. It also strengthened my desire to make a return visit to this fine example of an unspoilt, 19^th Century, corner local.

2021's review can wait - I've got a long-distance trail to complete!

Today, I really should have been putting the finishing touches to my review of 2021, but I decided to go hiking instead. I’m glad I did, because once the light drizzly rain had cleared, I thoroughly enjoyed my walk across the top of Box Hill. I didn’t enjoy the descent, or at least my knees didn’t, as it was not only much steeper than I anticipated, but it was also much longer.

I obviously hadn’t realised how high I had climbed on my route up from Betchworth station, past the old quarry and Brockham lime works, and onto to the summit of Box Hill. In case you hadn’t guessed, I was waking another stretch of the North Downs Way.

Looking at the map it was only just over four miles, but the changes of altitude, and the fact I chose the wrong descent from the summit, it certainly felt much longer. So much so that I decided I abort the walk at the Burford Bridge Hotel, and then take the train, one stop, from Box Hill & Westhumble station, back into Dorking.

My original plan had been to continue for another two miles along the NDW, before doubling back to Dorking West station, and whilst I would have been up to it, I’m glad I didn’t. Looking at the map Box Hill station will make a far more logical starting point for my next journey west, and if I hadn’t stopped when I did, I would have missed the delights of the Garland, in Redhill.

There will be more about this splendid street corner Harveys’ pub in a subsequent post, but back to the review for a minute, I noticed that the last time I looked at it was Christmas Eve. There’s no time to finish it now, and I’m not in the mood either, so by way of compensation, here are a few not particularly good photos, from today’s walk.

Points to remember, apart from the final descent, the majority of the walk was through woodland, and it was drizzly to start with. I’m kicking myself for missing what would have been a cracking shot, and definitely the best one of the walk, when a peloton (I think that’s the right word) of cyclists came hurtling up the famous zig-zag road, straight towards me. With map in one hand, and walking stick in the other, I was unable to get my phone out, ready to shoot, before they were gone.

Such is life, but apart from the less than impressive photos, I would like to wish each and everyone of you a happy, prosperous, successful and above all, healthy New Year. Thanks too for sticking with me and supporting the blog through what has been another perplexing and troublesome year.

A few more books at bedtime - both beer-related and non-beer-related

I received a couple of beer books in my Christmas stocking, and so far, have only glanced through them. Both publications look as though they will be good reads, so I look forward to getting stuck into them. The only question is which one to read first?

Before revealing what, these books are, it’s worth taking a quick look back at some of the other books I’ve read since the start of the year.  I will begin with the comprehensive, hard-back volume I received last Christmas (2020), which was titled “The Family Brewers of Britain.”

Researched and authored by veteran beer writer Roger Protz, this book is a real labour of love, as it details the remaining family-owned independent brewers, who are still in existence. These are the true survivors, proud custodians of over 300 years of brewing heritage, who kept alive the tradition of locally brewed ales, brewed to suit local customers and local palates at a time when their much larger brethren were flooding the market with heavily promoted national keg brands.

Roger visited all 30 companies, featured in the book, and then wrote up his findings with care and attention. The result is a fascinating insight, not just into the histories of these breweries, but what they are about today. Many have been forced to adapt and evolve, in order to survive. Some have constructed newer, smaller and more energy efficient breweries, whilst others have sold off pubs.

The biggest problem most are facing is they have been squeezed on the one hand, between the bigger, national, and international giants, and on the other by the burgeoning micro and craft brewery sectors. Roger reveals how these surviving family firms have dealt with these changes, how they have adapted, but most of all reveals that the majority are thriving as new generations have come forward and are now, firmly in control.

There was a considerable amount of text to get through and a lot of information to digest, so it’s not surprising the book took me several months to read, but I also had a number of fiction books to get through. This was after finally finishing Anthony Powell’s marathon, 12 volume chronicle, “A Dance to the Music of Time,” a fascinating and semi-biographical account of the middle years of the last century, as observed from an upper-middle class perspective.

I then moved on to “Out of Africa,” by Karen Blixen, a novel best known for the film version, which . starred Meryl Streep and Robert Redford. Karen was a Danish settler, who married her cousin, a Swedish baron. The two of them bought a coffee plantation in Kenya, shortly before the outbreak of the First World War. It was a venture that was doomed to failure, as the land they purchased was too high and too dry, for the successful cultivation of coffee, and after years of diminishing yields, the harvest failed, totally in 1930.

Karen separated from her husband in 1921, and then managed the plantation on her own. The book is a fascinating account of her struggles, along with the relationship she had with the native Kenyans who worked and lived on the plantation.  Baroness Blixen, and the people who worked her estate, developed a deep respect for one another, which left her devastated when she was forced to sell the farm and return to Denmark, in 1931.

Another tragedy befell Karen, when her lover, mentor and confidant, the English adventurer Denys Finch-Hatton, was killed in a plane crash. As the footnote on the back cover of the novel says, “Written with astonishing clarity and an unsentimental intelligence, Out of Africa portrays a way of life that has disappeared forever.”

Next up was George Orwell’s “Homage to Catalonia,” a personalised account of the author’s time as a volunteer with the Republican forces, during the Spanish Civil War. If, like me, you have ever wondered how the Republican side, which represented the legitimate government of Spain, with all the resources behind it that a modern state could muster, could then lose the fight against Franco’s fascist Falangist insurrection, then Orwell’s account will explain why.

After being wounded at the front, Orwell was sent back to Barcelona to recuperate, only to be caught up in the vicious in-fighting that had broken out between various factions on the republican side. Socialists, communists and Trotskyist, groups were fighting each other not just to control the direction that the conflict was taking, but to demonstrate which was the most left leaning and revolutionary. Meanwhile Franco’s forces, who were backed by Hitler and Mussolini, gradually gained the upper hand.

Eric Arthur Blair was lucky to escape from Spain with his life, thanks in no small part to the actions of his wife, Eileen, who managed to track him down, and then spirit him away under the noses of the, by then, Soviet-backed republican regime. His book is a lesson, not just about the futility of war, but also of enrolling for a noble cause, and then having one’s illusions, brutally shattered by subsequent events.

The final book is the one I am reading at the moment. “Anna Karenina," by Leo Tolstoy, is a lengthy novel involving betrayal, jealousy, scandal, and despair, in Russian high society, during the latter quarter of the 19^th Century. Described as far easier to read and get to grips with than “War & Peace,” Tolstoy’s most famous work, I am enjoying what I have read so far.

As with Karen Blixen’s novel, Tolstoy's Anna Karenina gives an insight into a long-vanished world, but this time it is the world of the Russian Aristocracy, several decades before it was swept away by the Bolsheviks and their bloody revolution.  I am approximately one third of the way through the novel but am in no hurry to finish it.

Finally, the two books I received as Christmas presents. Both are beer related, and both are published by CAMRA books. Starting with, “50 Years of CAMRA,” this, as its sub-title suggests, is a book “Celebrating 50 years of Campaigning for Real Ale.”

Specially commissioned by CAMRA’s National Executive, and written by Laura Hadland, the book is a factual, but entertaining look back at the history of the Campaign for Real Ale. Starting with its almost comical inception by four young friends on a drinking holiday in Ireland, to its position today as Europe’s largest, and most successful single issue, consume movement, this book is of special interest to a person like me, who was a CAMRA member for 45 years, and an active one for most of that time, as well.

I can see myself becoming engrossed in this book, and re-living some of the campaigning highs, and lows I was personally involved with. It will also be good to read the stories from a different viewpoint and to learn more about the workings and machinations of the Campaign.

The final book is something a of a wild card; a bit of a dark horse, if you like. “A Year in Beer,” by Jonny Garrett, with its sub-title “The Beer Lover’s Guide to the Seasons,” looks like my kind of book. It follows the concept of drinking throughout the year, season by season and month by month, following the author’s suggestions of the most appropriate beers to reflect the changing seasons.

Jonny Garrett freely admits that he isn’t sure that seasonal drinking is really a thing. Not in the way that most people understand it. He is, of course, right in his thinking that we are no longer totally in hoc to the changing seasons, primarily because we have lost our connection with both the land, and also with nature itself.

Th inventions of refrigeration and pastueristion mean we are no longer dictated to by time of year or the weather that goes with it, and should we see fit, we can brew almost any type or style of beer we wish. This doesn’t detract from the changing seasons, and Johnny argues that we are still very much guided by our past experiences, and the impact they have had on us, our society, and our culture.

He claims that on the one hand it’s global, whilst on the other hand it’s deeply personal, reflecting our personalities, moods, location, or the situation we find ourselves in. With these thoughts in mind, I’m going to open my imagination, go with the flow and see where this book is going to take me. It should be an interesting ride!

Disclosure: None of these books were freebies, although several were Christmas presents, and as such, didn't cost me anything. The others, I paid full price for.