I’m recently back from a weekend in London. I was mostly there for the British Guild of Beer Writers’ annual dinner. One of my few chances to connect with other writers. And, of course, knock back a few beers.
“Can I see some of the sights this time?” Dolores is always coming up with totally unreasonable demands like this. Or complaining when I spend 4 or 5 days of a week’s holiday on beer-related activities.
“I suppose so. As long as it doesn’t eat into my drinking time too much.” Thankfully you’re never far from a pub in central London. Or a tourist, unfortunately, but we’ll get back to that later.
This year I'm not sat next to anyone as a joke, as happened in the past. It turns out I'm on the winner’s table, with both Tim Webb and Tim Skelton receiving awards. Which makes me sort of a winner, as I contributed an article to Beer in the Netherlands.
Podge and Siobhan are on our table and as entertaining as ever. I chat at length with Siobhan about beer at the front in WW I. Something I know little about myself – despite my obsession with beer in WW I – but which she’s researching. Informative, but also humbling as I realise how many holes there still are in my knowledge.
My fetching extra beer during the meal skills definitely weren't up to par this year. How do I know that? Because I can remember pudding. Not eating it, as I don’t eat that sort of thing. But passing it to Dolores. “It’s not as good as last year’s.” is her opinion.
We've come prepared with bags to carry away some of the surplus beer. Which see me through hotel beer moments for the rest of our stay.
We get up pretty early on Friday. I’ve an appointment with Peter Hayden at the Florence in Herne Hill. We need to be there early as he's a flight to catch. We get a full 30 minutes to look around his brewery, chat and try a couple of his historic recreations: 1805 Barclay Perkins East India Porter and 1914 Whitbread IPA.
Dolores is quite taken by the IPA. “I wouldn’t have drunk it if you’d told me it was IPA. This is nice – none of that horrible grapefruit flavour they usually have.” Not a great fan of American hops, Dolores.
Still having plenty of time before my next appointment (I know, this doesn’t sound like I’ve cut back on the beer-related activities very much) on the way back we drop by Brixton. See, there’s a sight I'm showing Dolores: Electric Avenue and the markets around it.
“Do you fancy jerk chicken for lunch, Dolores?”
“Sounds a good idea. But it’s still a bit early.”
I'm not going to disagree. I had a ginormous English breakfast buffet in the hotel.
“How about sitting somewhere for a while?” You can probably guess where this is leading. “That looks like a pub down there.”
I don’t twig what sort of pub it was at first. It's called The Beehive.Until I pay. Two pints and a double Bells were about exactly half what they cost in a pub by our hotel.
“I think this is a Wetherspoons, Ronald.” And she's right. The JDW etched into glass dividers should have tipped me off. That and the interesting characters around the bar.
I cock up my beer order. Seeing something at an unusually high 7.2% ABV, I go for that. The name leads me to expect a powerful, dark beer. Except Black Dragon is a cider. Oh well. It's been a long time since I’ve last drunk cider. And it's pleasant enough.
I'm amazed to see one of the keg beers: Devil's Backbone Pale Ale. A beer from my mate Jason Oliver, made out in the wilds of Virginia. I should know - I've been there. How odd I should find it here in Brixton.
We earmarked Healthy Eaters for our jerk repast.
"Andrew would like it here," Dolores remarks as reggae music sidles around us.
Not sure if it really is 100% healthy eating, but my jerk chicken, rice and peas combo is just a fiver for a decent-sized plate. And tasty, too. Dolores gobbled down her slightly bizarre jerk chicken salad quickly enough to suggest it was pretty damn good, too. Also a fiver.
Sated, we dawdle back through the market to the train station. Off, ultimately to see Jeff at his new pub. And Rod, too.
As for the tourists, I'll get to them next time. Or the one after. If I can be arsed to keep this up.
407-409 Brixton Road,
London SW9 7DG.
Tel: 020 7738 3643
17 Electric Avenue
London SW9 8JP.
Tel.: 020 - 727 44521
What’s a brewer’s bucket? No, you’re wrong … - “He shall charge you, and discharge you, with the motion of a pewterer’s hammer, come off and on swifter than he that gibbets on the brewer’s bucket.” Sir ...
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