Lloyd Hind's "Brewing: Science and Practice" arrived yesterday. Both volumes. Once, I wouldn't have been so fussed about volume I, which covers brewing materials. But I needed a good 20th-century source on malt. Writing my book is proving a real education. (Before any HBT with a chip on their shoulder chips in: only a true twat sees no need to further educate themselves.)
"175 dollars, dad! You paid 175 dollars for a book!" I shouldn't let Andrew look over my shoulder when I'm on Abebooks. The book in question was a particularly useful brewing manual from the 1870's, one of the gaps I needed to fill. He should see how much the ones I daren't buy would cost. Dolores keeps a close eye on our credit card statements. "Ronald, you've been buying books again. We could have gone on holiday with that money." She exaggerates a bit. Not much, but a bit.
While I'm on the topic of filling holes, does anyone know a good British brewing manual published between 1880 and 1895? Not Sykes, I've got a later edition of that. Preferably something I can pick up for less than 175 dollars. I don't want to face Andrew's disapproval again.
The book pile next to my desk has returned. Time to buy another bookcase. If the kids moved into the shed, I could use their room as a library. But, for some reason, they aren't keen. "It would be fun. Like camping." "Daaaad, the shed is smelly and cold." "That's all part of the fun." "Why can't we put your books in the shed?" "Because the cold and damp would damage them." "But it's OK for us?" "Yes."
Beery Existentialism - Part Deux - I’ve had a recent revelation. I don’t enjoy craft beer bars—and by “craft” bar I mean a bar which exclusively serves craft beer, or high-end imports. Ofte...
7 hours ago