Great to be part of the change-jangling crowd leaning on the doors before opening time. Takes me back to Sundays in Bromley-by-Bow. Back in the dark times when the pubs only opened for two hours on Sunday afternoons.
Happy days . . . . . no, miserable days. Miserable, black, black days.
Coverdale St. George's Stout
I'm reading an article about Lemmy in the Independent on Sunday. For some reason it gives me an irresistible urge to order a double whisky. So I do. Not that I would have resisted even if had been a resistible urge.
The Stout is OK. Bit thin and burnt, but OK.
Yorkshire Dales Brewery Birk Dale Bock.
A 4.4% ABV Bock. Interesting concept. But, had they been brewing Bock in Britain in 1914 at German strength, 4.4% ABV is probably about where it would have been today.
Quite a nice beer but, apart from the colour, nothing about it's very Bock-like. More like a hoppy Dark Mild, brewed to 1920's strength.
Arriving at Hanger Lane tube station, I discovered there's a tube strike tomorrow. Bugger, bugger, flip. How the hell will I get to the archives?* They're effing miles away. Perhaps a change of plan will be in order. John Keeling did say that I could turn up anytime I wanted tomorrow. And have a rummage in their drawers**. So to speak. Make a whotsit out of a thingy. Maybe get a look at the first brew of ESB. Or the Hock I drank in 1979.
The strike is going to drastically limit my attempt to get the full set of Whitbread's Porter records. I only did 25 years yesterday. I was feeling a bit shit. A bit hungover, I think. No idea why. I did have a pint of Harvey's Imperial Stout at 11 am. Followed by two more Imperial Stouts and a number I can't remember of beers at Meantime. Never drink with a brewer. Not if you have any pity for your liver.
A 12-hour drinking session, kick-started with three pints odf 10% ABV beer. That shouldn't give you a hangover, should it? I must be getting old.
Forgot to mention. I'm on Park Street. yes the Park Street (or Deadman's Lane as it used to be colourfully called). Home of Barclay Perkins (obligatory reference there).
Is there something wrong with the heating? Most customers - including notoriously sweaty bastard me - are still wearing their coats. Time for another double whisky. Any excuse.
Should I drop by the Anchor?*** My only photo of it is rubbish, taken when the light had almost gone.
I shouldn't have relied on just looking at the pump clips. There's another set of handpumps hiding around the corner. I only noticed they had a Porter on when I went to the bog. Thank you bladder. 4.1% ABV. When is that right for? A few weeks in 1917. Or some years in the 1920's. Mmm . . . . I've done that one already, haven't I? There's a touch of smoke. But, hadn't I known it was a Porter, I could have mistaken it for a Dark Mild. NTTS. I can't use that phrase. My arse would drop out of my kecks if I did.
Sometimes people are bloody unpleasant.
The other weekend I had to deal with a particularly unpleasant complaint.
From time to time Sunday lunchtime seems to bring out the most venomous of