Speaking again

I rise at about 11. Andrew is still away with the fairies. Quelle surprise. He was still up at 4:30.

First thing I do, after brushing my teeth, is to make a nice cup of tea. You can't go wrong with tea. The best way to start any day.

I plan a trip to the Lord Nelson today. And when Andrew is finally looking human, that's where we head. It's not that far and quite a simple walk. Except that it's fucking raining again. Though it's not that heavy. Hydrating rather than soaking.

The walk gives Andrew a chance to see at least a little of the city. And a couple of very different parts of the centre. First, the towering blocks of the CBD. Second, the quaint old terraced houses of the Rocks.

It's just after 2 PM when we hit the Lord Nelson. A sturdy stone boozer on the corner of a hill. It’s fairly busy, but we manage to find a table OK.

Old Admiral for me, Victory Bitter for Andrew. Mine is a bit like Old Puke. Not bad at all. Brewed here on site.

Most of the other customers seem to be Lions fans. There's a surprise.

Feeling hungry, I order a pork pie. With a side of mushy peas. The pie is excellent, the peas rather a disappointment, being just mashed up garden peas.

Andrew swaps to cider. He does like his cider. He's racing ahead of me in pints again.

“No need to drink so fast.”

“Why not, Dad?”

“There’s no afternoon closing.”

“Very amusing.”

Outside, the rain is getting heavier. And the arriving Lions fans soggier. Now it's getting pretty full.

For my second pint, I have a Nelson's Blood. which is a Porter. It's perfectly fine. Andrew is still on the cider.

A Lions fan comes up and says:

"You were sitting close to me on the train yesterday. I saw your son keep coming back with provisions from the buffet."

By “provisions” he means drinks. Andrew didn't fetch any food.

There's a terrible draft every time the door opens.

“I need something to warm me up.”

“Like a cup of tea?”

“No. Something more concentrated.”

“I can see where this is going.”

 “Something like bourbon. Maybe a double.”

“Sure you don’t want a quadruple?”

“That would be a bit much.”

“It’s what you pour yourself at home.”

“Don’t exaggerate.”

“Exaggerate? Your usual measure is more like a sextuple.”

I plump for a double bourbon. That should do the trick. Andrew is still on cider.

Andrew actually seems to be hungry. At least, he's looking with interest at the food menu.

"Want to share a steak?" I ask.

"I was thinking of ordering a burger."

That’s a shock. Andrew eating a whole meal by himself.

“Are you feeling OK, Andrew?”

“Very funny, Dad.”

"OK, you have a burger, I'll have a steak."

Which is what we do. They're both pretty good. And not too stupidly expensive. Andrew even eats most of his chips.

I'm giving a talk tonight at the Social Brewers. Which is miles away. At least 40 minutes by Uber. Given the weather, and the fact that we'll be traveling in rush hour, we allow for longer than that. Just as well, as it takes a good 45 minutes. Much of which is in a tunnel.

Social Brewers is in a light industrial unit. And is very, er, industrial. We're the first to arrive. But soon Peter Symons appears. And gives me copies of his four books.* Along with a special edition bottle of Glenfiddich. Which is nice of him.

We get a Czech Dark Lager, which was brewed by Barry, another member of Peter's homebrew club.

About 25 tickets have been sold. But not everyone has turned up. Presumably because of the foul weather. There’s maybe half that number. Which is disappointing. But as long as I have an audience of almost two, I’m happy to do my thing.

"Do you want a microphone?"

“Yes.”

I wouldn't usually need one for such a small venue. But I'm having to compete with the rain on the corrugated iron roof.

As I talk about the history of Stout, beers are served. Four historical Stouts. Two home-brewed, 2 made by Social Brewers:

1879 BP Brown Stout, 1890 Adnams Stout, 1900 Cairnes Stout, 1913 Murphy's XXX.

The talk goes pretty well. Other than me having to pause a couple of times when the rain gets too noisy. Gives me a chance to drink some of the lovely recreations, though. The Murphy's XXX is particularly nice. And over 9% ABV. Just my kind of beer. So much so that I have a couple of half litres.

After I'm done, I chat a little with the audience. And sell a couple of books. Not enough, though. I still have seven left. How the fuck am I going to get them back to Amsterdam?

It's still raining as we take the long ride back into town. Where Andrew goes to the Woollies and I take the books up to our room.

Where I sip some of the rather nice Glenfiddich that Peter gave me.



The Lord Nelson Brewery Hotel
19 Kent St, 
The Rocks NSW 2000.
http://www.lordnelsonbrewery.com/


The Social Brewers & Gungah Bay Distilling
10, Unit 11/12 Hearne St, 
Mortdale NSW 2223.
http://thesocialbrewers.com.au/ 

 

* Peter's books are also published via Lulu. Also much like my books, they combine brewing history with historic recipes. The emphasis is on Australia, but there are lots of UK beers for comparison purposes.

You can but his books via these links: 

https://www.lulu.com/shop/peter-symons-and-ronald-pattinson/bronzed-brews/paperback/product-vq2e2j.html
https://www.lulu.com/shop/peter-symons/guile-brews/paperback/product-1kk978rm.html
https://www.lulu.com/shop/peter-symons/6-oclock-brews/paperback/product-q6ng4z2.html
https://www.lulu.com/shop/peter-symons/true-blue-brews/paperback/product-5799nqn.html