Let's Brew - 1968 Fullers London Pride

As a relief from recipes mercilessly promoting my recently-released books, here's a recipe in one I'm still working on. For what is one of my favourite books. One trying to invoke the spirit of the 1970s.

A beer I drank quite a bit of back in the 1970s. It was my go-to beer in London when I lived there. Partly because Hock was rarely on in Fullers pubs.

London Pride is a typical product of post-war London. WW II restrictions knocked the strength stuffing out of Bitters. When the shackles were taken off a few years after the end of hostilities, many brewers introduced a new, stronger Bitter. Not quite up to pre-war strength. But a good bit stronger than austerity Bitters.

Called SPA (Special Pale Ale) in the brewhouse, it was first marketed as Chiswick Pride. Before adopting the iconic London Pride name.

Though this wasn’t in the parti-gyle with the LA and PA above, the recipe is pretty much the same. With just some tinkering with the sugar quantities. 

1968 Fullers London Pride
pale malt	7.50 lb	77.52%
crystal malt 120L	0.175 lb	1.81%
flaked maize	1.50 lb	15.50%
No. 3 invert sugar	0.25 lb	2.58%
No. 2 invert sugar	0.125 lb	1.29%
glucose	0.125 lb	1.29%
Fuggles 75 min	1.00 oz
Styrian Goldings 60 min	0.75 oz
Goldings 30 min	1.00 oz
OG	1043
FG	1013
ABV	3.97
Apparent attenuation	69.77%
IBU	38
SRM	7
Mash at	147º F
Sparge at	168º F
Boil time	75 minutes
pitching temp	61º F
Yeast	WLP002 English Ale

 

Bitter choice

Did you notice that Twitter poll? The one that asked which beer you would pick if you went into a pub and they four handpumps serving London Pride, Landlord, Harvey's Best and Batham's Bitter? Well Dolores sort of got to do that last weekend.

Not that we were lucky enough to find that set on offer in a single pub. But we did have the chance to try all but Batham's in a variety of pubs. And Dolores tried all of them. Any guesses as to which was her favourite?

It all kicked off at the Friend at Hand. Even before we'd checked into our hotel. Dolores was hoping for London Pride. But since Greene King took ove Taylor Walker, who used to own the pub, that's diappeared. Initially replaced by London Glory. The first time Dolores took a sip of that I could see diappointment flush her face. I won't make the mistake of getting her one again.

My little face shone when I spotted the Landlord pumpclip. I'd been dispatched to the bar with the instruction: "Get me a nice cask Bitter, Ronald." Surely Landlord would satisfy that requirement.

"How's your beer, Dolores?" I asked when she was a couple of gobfulls in.

"Quite nice."

"Quite nice? That's one of the top-rated casks Bitters." I'd expected a little more enthusiasm.

We only stayed for the one.

Checked in and bags dumped, we headed to the supermarket for bits and bobs to munch and slurp in our hotel. Just essential things for me, beer, crisps and whisky. On the way back we walked past another pub, The Marquis Cornwallis.

"Do they sell London Pride here?" Dolores asked, impressively interested in more early-afternoon beer.

"I'll take a look." I said and poked my head around the door. "No, but they do have Landlord."

"Let's not bother then."

Damn. No more beer for me quite yet then. Just as well I'd invested in some drinks for our room.

A curry later, I ask Dolores: "Fancy another beer?"

"Yes, if it's London Pride."

"No problem. We're close to Euston Road and the Euston Flyer. It's a Fullers pub. They're bound to have it."

It was around 6:30 when we trolled up at the Euston Flyer. Not a great time to arrive at this specific pub on a Friday. It was full of the fucking off back up North for the weekend crowd. Dolores isn't usually keen on standing in pubs. She made an exception in this case. We found a corner towards the toilets.

I could tell Dolores was enjoying it by the way her glass was emptying. A good bit quicker than my pint of ESB. When she'd necked the first pint, Dolores was ready for another. Praise indeed, given the awkward corner we were crammed into.

We were up early on Saturday. I needed a new pair of shoes. I was going to say Doc Martin's, but they aren't strickly speaking that. They're another brand that are like the old DMs. Camden is where we were headed. To the British Boot Company. It didn't take me long to find what I wanted. I always buy exactly the same shoes.

It wasn't yet 11 AM by the time we were done.

"What about a beer?" Dolores asked.

"It's a bit early yet."

Indeed all the pubs around were still closed. Instead we had a wander down Camden High Street to gawp at the shops. As we were nearing the end, I spotted something.

"Ooh, look. The Elephant's Head is open. Let's have a pint here."

It's surprisingly crowded behind the door, where there's a large group of middle-aged men in sill cchristmas outfits. But Dolores's attention is drawn to the bar. Where there's the reassuring red pumpclip of London Pride.

"I won't bother asking what you want."

We stay for two rounds. Though I buy them both. Never seems to be her shout.

The British Museum is next on the list. Except when we get there, the queue outside is enormous. And it's cold. And raining.

"We could wait in the Museum Tavern until the queue is shorter." I suggested helpfully.

"OK."

I knew there would be no Pride inside for Dolores. But there would be Old Peculier for me. Bound to be something to to suit the taste of Dolores. Cask Ordinary Bitter is all she seeks. I ordered her a Sanbrook Junction without asking what she wanted.

"How's your beer?"

"It's OK." I could read on her face that she wanted to add "But not as good as London Pride."

My Old Puke was as stonking as ever. It's always good in the Museum Tavern. Unfortunately, I didn't have the chance of a second as the museum queue had become just about reasonable.

When we were done in the museum our feet are aching something rotten. Time for beer to soothe our poor limbs.

"We could go back to Tottenham Court Road tube and head South." I suggested. "There's another pub on the Northern Line we could drop by."

"As long as there's not too much walking."

It was a short walk from Borough tube to our destination. But it was pissing it down "Don't worry. Another 20 minutes and we'll be there." I teased.

"Very funny, Ronald."

Considering the weather and time of day, the Royal Oak was fairly lively.

"I know what I'm having. Do you want a Mild, too?" I asked Dolores.

"Do they have a nice Bitter?"

"It's Harveys pub. Of course they do."

"How's your beer?"

"OK." Dolores didn't look that enthusiastice about her Sussex Best.

Next we both had an Old. "It's like a strong Mild."

"How strong?"

"It's just 4.3% ."

She seemed to quite like it. But swapped back to Sussex Best for her next pint. Which I suppose says something.

We ended the weekend in the Euston Flyer, whiling away the time before nipping over the road to catch the Eurostar back home. No prize for getting what Dolores was drinking: London Pride.





Friend at Hand
2 - 4 Herbrand Street,
Bloomsbury,
London WC1N 1HX.


The Marquis Cornwallis
31 Marchmont St, Bloomsbury,
London WC1N 1AP.
https://www.themarquiscornwalliswc1.co.uk/


The Euston Flyer
83-87 Euston Rd,
London NW1 2RA.


Museum Tavern
49 Great Russell St,
Bloomsbury,
London WC1B 3BA.


The Royal Oak
44 Tabard St,
London SE1 4JU, UK
http://www.royaloaklondon.co.uk/

London in March

Here are some notes I wrote while in Lodon for the historic beer conference thing. Been too busy to post them until now.

That pub on the way to Tottenham Court Road*

Almost walked straight back out again until I spotted the Truman Scorcher. I really dislike the way Taylor Walker pubs are replacing London Pride with the deceptiveley-named London Glory. It's 16:10 and pretty empty. Just me and a bloke in the spell of his phone.

Mmm. Something not quite right about the beer. A touch of sourness. Doubtless the pub's fault. Don't think I'll be finishing it.

Bree Louise
Still stinky. I'm taking advantage of being in London by myself to drop by. Dolores isn't a fan.

Sambrook's Candle Maker IPA 6.8% ABV.
Black IPA that is. And it's pretty damn black. As dark as midnight down a well at midnight on the dark side of the moon. Opaque in a good, not orange juice sort of way. Not that you'd notice from the taste. Well, maybe a little at the back end, where there seems to be a touch of non-hop bitterness.

I managed to get a highly-desirable seat by the gents. Handy when you're as old and weak-bladdered as me. As for the smell - it doesn't really make any difference here.

Quite liked that black IPA. So I got another. Could be the ABV talking, mind.

Had a crazily-scheduled beer appointment at noon yesterday, just a few hours landing back from the US. Turned out to be as much a business meeting as a piss up. I think. Being a bit confused at the time, I'm not 100% sure.

London has its own particular atmosphere. Busy, not not quite in such a concentrated, frantic way as New York City.

Why did I suddenly start humming "No Fun"? Because it has a catchy riff? Because I am having fun. Of the sat in a pub with a nice beer and nothing I fucking need to do sort of way.

"You're crazy, Ronald." has been a recurring theme in my chats with Dolores. I understand what she means. But it's a mortality thing. Where once there was an endless horizon, the earth has turned flat. At one point, I'm going to drop off the edge. And the drop gets closer every day. I'm getting shit done while my legs, guts and brain are still working reasonably well.

Regrets?  Not having better handwriting.

Need a wee. Thank Stalin** the bog isn't far.

Reading the Evening Standard - all fluff, puff and bluff.






* Marlborough Arms  
36 Torrington Pl,
London WC1E 7LY.
Tel: +44 20 7636 0120

** That's for Jeff. Know you don't like taking the Lord's name in vain,. So I substituted the red/dark lord's.


Bree Louise  
69 Cobourg St,
London NW1 2HH.
Tel: +44 20 7681 4930
http://www.breelouise.pub/

A few days in London

I was in London with Dolores for a few days last week. Not to do anything very specific or beer-related. Other than attend the beer hacks annual dinner.

It’s about the one chance a year I get chance to meet my fellow beer writers. And there’s one the frustration of being a member of the British Guild of Beer Writers and living abroad: I miss out on the free piss-ups. Not that I’m resentful. Not openly, anyway.

It’s fun spending time in London with no particular beer agenda. I made zero effort to visit specific pubs and just drank in whichever one was close by. Not being one of these crafty type and having a wife who’s idea of beery perfection in Fullers London Pride, carefully selecting a pub isn’t that important. Most in town will provide the minimum requirement of one cask beer.

But I noticed something. Taylor Walker must have done some deal with Greene King because in several pubs, rather than the London Pride they used to sell they’d something called London Glory instead. Brewed by Greene King. But not in effing London. Bit of a cheek, if you ask me. And sad if it pushed the superior Pride off many bars.

Funniest moment was when Dolores asked for a pint of Bitter and I brought her something in a glass branded IPA.

“Have they served it in the wrong glass? I asked for Bitter. That’s not really an IPA, is it?”

“Yes.”

“You know I hate those IPAs that taste of grapefruit.”

“This isn’t like that.”

“Are you sure? It says IPA.”

“Don’t worry, it’s like a Bitter really. It’s Greene King IPA.”

“Why do they call it IPA, then?”

“That’s a good question with a very complicated answer. I’d just get on with drinking your beer if you don’t fancy an hour lecture on the history of IPA.”

Dolores must be the only person in the last 10 years not to be disappointed that Greene King IPA wasn’t like a modern IPA.

What else did we do? Went to Camden to buy me some shoes. A big problem now DMs have turned to total shit. The much superior Solovair shoes aren’t as widely available. As it costs 20 quid to get a pair sent to Holland, it made sense to drop by the shop and buy them directly. I’m terrible with shoes. I only ever have one pair, which I wear until they disintegrate. My last pair lasted almost three years, I reckon.

While in Camden, it only made sense to have a look at the market and the shops. Dolores had never been this way before. Trendy, in a beard and tattoo sort of way, but not too posh.

As we walked up Camden High Street the buildings started to look eerily familiar. Then I realised why. I’d looked at this spot on Streetview when researching the Camden Brewery.

“There’s an old brewery building just around the corner. Do you mind if I go and photograph it?”

“No problem, Ronald.”

It was only 50 metres past the Elephant’s Head, which is where we were headed for a beer. Dolores was probably glad it was just a few extra steps and not a trek right across town. I’m glad I made the effort, because I could see more of the brewery has survived than I realised.

“I’ve got a good story about the Elephant’s Head. But I’ll tell you after we’ve left.”

“Why?”

Why the Take Courage sign?

“You’ll realise after I tell you the tale.”

I spilled the beans on the way back to Camden tube station. I can remember being there once with Matt, Tym and Piers. I think we were in Camden to watch Hackney Five-O support the Higsons. That tells you how long ago it was. 30 years, at least. We were sitting close to the bar. The was an altercation between two blokes about to order. Then a horrible breaking noise followed by blood splattering on our table. The one bloke had glassed the other. Worst violence I’ve ever seen in a pub. The glasser ran and hid in the bog from the glassee’s mates. We quickly finished our drinks and left. It wasn’t going to get any nicer.

“What a lovely story, Ronald.”

I’d have never got her in the pub if I’d told her that earlier.

While Dolores checked out the shoe exhibition in the V & A, I indulged in one of my favourite pleasures: an afternoon in the pub over the paper and a few pints. And obviously observing - and listening to - my fellow drinkers. Nothing like a newspaper for disguising your nosiness.

Not sure there’s anything else I need to tell you. Other than shitting bricks on the way to the airport. We cut in rather finer than I would like. We got the airport just 40 minutes before our flight. Without boarding passes and with luggage to check in. Luckily we were flying from London City Airport, which is tiny. I still had time to buy a sandwich for the plane in Boots. Airside, but under two quid.

My last foreign trip of the year, that was. I had been planning on going to the Kerstbierfestival. Until I discovered that it was all-ticket this year and the day I wanted to go, Saturday, is sold out. Damn.

Let's Brew Wednesday – 1958 Fullers London Pride

This is a beer you may possibly have heard of. I’ve heard it’s quite popular.

It certainly is with Dolores. Pride is her preferred drink, when in London. Though you’ll notice that the brewhouse name wasn’t LP, as in later logs, but SPA. Which presumably stands for Special Pale Ale. I’m not sure exactly when it was introduced, but it seems to have been sometime in the early 1950’s. Something called Best PA appears in the Whitbread Gravity Book in 1951. It looks very similar to Pride in gravity. The first mention of London Pride in the Gravity Book is in 1953.

Many brewers took the opportunity to introduce a stronger Bitter in the 1950’s. Wartime restrictions had killed forced Bitters to drop below 4% ABV. Both Watney and Youngs called theirs Special Bitter, beers of a similar strength to London Pride. They sold for 2d a pint more than Ordinary Bitter. A premium I’d be willing to pay for the extra oomph.

It’s a simple recipe. Which I’ve made even simpler by replacing the glucose and the proprietary sugar PEX with more No.2 invert. The sugar content is quite low. 10% to 15% was more usual. In case wondering, the current version of London Pride has quite a different grist. Fullers now brew all-malt. There’s 5% crystal malt, 0.25% chocolate malt and the rest is pale malt.

The original mashing scheme was an underlet mash. It started at 144º F and stood for half an hour. There was then an underlet that raised the temperature to 152º F and it was stood for 2 hours. Feel free to replicate that if you want to go for full authenticity.



That’s all I can think of so over to me for the recipe . . . . .

1958 Fullers SPA
pale malt	7.75 lb	79.49%
flaked maize	1.50 lb	15.38%
no. 2 sugar	0.50 lb	5.13%
Fuggles 90 min	1.00 oz
Fuggles 60 min	0.75 oz
Goldings 30 min	0.75 oz
OG	1043.2
FG	1011.4
ABV	4.21
Apparent attenuation	73.61%
IBU	34
SRM	12
Mash at	152º F
Sparge at	165º F
Boil time	90 minutes
pitching temp	60º F
Yeast	WLP002 English Ale

20 hours in Britain

I was back in the UK extremely briefly this week. Not even a full day.

I won't go into too many details as to why, because it was a work thing. And I don't talk about that here.

Being in another country for such a short time - and almost half of it spent sleeping - is disorientating. Here's a quick check list of what I did:

Bought the Radio Times and the Christmas Viz. Got some sweets for Alexei and some salt and vinegar crisps for Andrew. Plus two bags of crumpets for me. If Andrew doesn't nab them all first.

But what about beer? Here's the really sad part. I had two bottles of Singha in a Thai restaurant and that was it. My hotel only sold keg beer and there wasn't a pub close by. Just a Harvester. And no guarantee that would have cask. So I watched Peep Show in my hotel room.

All was not lost. There are plenty who get snotty about Wetherspoons. But there's one great service they've provided: putting decent beer into airports. I'd a while to wait for my plane. Time for a quick pint. There was nothing too exotic or weird on the bar. But there was an old favourite. A beer that rarely disappoints, unless the cellarman is a complete idiot. London Pride.

It floated down. A pleasure from first gulp to last sip. Shame I only had time for the one.

What I learned at the weekend

I was briefly in Folkestone for a shopping run last weekend. The first time in ages.

Not much had changed in Folkestone. But something had on the way. And not for the better. We usually stop at the first service station on the E17 after Antwerp. It's about half way to the chunnel. I've got into the habit of picking up a couple of cans of Gordon's Finest Gold there, which, at 10% ABV, is the perfect breakfast beer.

Sadly, they no longer seem to sell it. Or Leffe Bruin. Now it's all Pils except for a few cans of Hoegaarden and Palm. Bastards. Completing the trip beerless wasn't on, leaving me no alternative but to get two cans of Jupiler. At least they were half litres. But Jupiler's never going to warm your belly the way Gordon's does. Warm belly and fuzzied-up head. Just what I want before lunch.

We always stay at the Portland Hotel. Which handily has a pub on the ground floor. Good enough reason to have a few beers while checking in. No cask beer, but they do have bottled London Pride. That'll do me. Luggage dumped, it was time to head to Asda for pies, salt and vinegar crisps, cider, cheese, Scotch pancakes and bacon. Now there's a properly balanced meal.

On the way back, I thought I may as well check out The Chambers, a Good Beer Guide-listed basement pub. They usually have some local beers on cask. As they did on Saturday. A dark number from Gadd's. Perfect. Especially with an accompanying double Bells. Or two.

Refreshed and loaded with shopping, it was time to return to the Portland to meet Mikey. Where I had another couple of London Prides before we decided eating might be a good idea. Fortunately, not only does Folkestone have a proper chippie, there's also a licensed fish restaurant at the back. Where I had pie, chips and mushy peas and a can of Guinness.

Once I'd polished of my health-food supper, it was back on the lash. This time in Harveys, another basement pub. Not the most exciting beer selection, but the Courage Best is usually in decent nick. I knocked back a few of those while Mikey got stuck into some Strongbow. After a few pints Mikey went off to the Tesco Express for a few bits and bobs, leaving me to have a few more Courage Bests while I waited for him. And waited. It turned into quite a few Courage Bests before I realised he wasn't coming back. He's done this before, crawling off to sleep mid session.

I went back to the hotel to see if he was in the pub there. Time for a few more London Prides and a dance. Until I realised my legs weren't working that well. Must have been all the walking. Time for bed.

What did I learn? That, with enough time and a bit of determination, it's possible to get legless on watery British beer. Even for a pisshead like me.

A Fullers parti-gyle from 1968

Still not finished kicking the unconscious body of party-gyling. I'm a vicious bastard.

Here's an example from Fuller's. A brew from Wednesday 10th July 1968. Take a look:

You probably want a word of explanation, don't you?

There are five different worts being assembled, though two are the same beer. GP = Golden Pride, ELP = Export London Pride, LP = London Pride, and PA = ordinary Bitter.

Two worts and a hop sparge were blended.The first wort had an OG of 33.6 brewers pounds (1093.1) the second 5.8 brewers pounds (1016.1).

These were the OG's of the different beers:

Golden Pride 1090
Export London Pride 1045.6
London Pride1043.2
Bitter 1036.6

Let's brew Wednesday - Fullers 1962 ELP, LP, PA, LA

You're so lucky. After today you'll have almost a full set of Fuller's beers from 1962.

If you were paying attention last week, you may remember that I said Fullers only really had three brews in 1962. One for Nourishing Stout, a second for all the other dark beer (Old Harry, Hock, OBE) and a third for all the Pale Ales. It's the last one we'll be looking at today. Though it does have one beer missing - Golden Pride. Sorry about that.

Party-gyling is one of the defining traits of British brewing over the past 150 years. And, it case you weren't listening all the other times I've said this, it isn't about making a single beer from each running. It's about combining two or three worts to make beers of different gravities.

Why party-gyle? For efficiency, simple as that. It's a good way of using as much of the fermentable materials in the mash as possible. And making efficient use of the equipment. It allowed a brewer like Fullers to make beers that wouldn't have been economic if they'd been made separately. By party-gyling, they were able to use the full capacity of the mash tun every time they brewed.

Like all beers that have been brewed for any length of time, the recipe of London Pride has gone through many incarnations. The one brewed today is quite different from this 1962 version. Particularly in terms of adjuncts. I'm pretty sure Fullers no longer use maize.

Good luck with this one. If you want to be authentic and party-gyle. This is the most complex recipe we've published so far. Oh, and you can mix and match any of the four beers. In the brewing logs they appear in all possible combinations: LP and PA; ELP, LP and LA; etc, etc.

Time for Kristen to take control . . . . .


Fullers 1962 ELP, LP, PA, LA

Sweet Sally in the Alley this took some work. It looks complex but its no more so that the gyle system last week. There are 4 different beers this type and a 3rd gyle to monkey with. I've broken the beers down into each of the 4 beers to brew individually. I've also broken things
down as the proper gyle into the 1st gyle and 2nd gyle which is different than before. Its basically how the beers stack up if you did them separated...then you just gotta blend them back. Someone owes me a bloody pint or 9...

Lets just get cracking...

Grist and such
Lots of adjunct here upwards near 25%. A touch of crystal, some invert sugars and 15% Flaked Maize which will definitely give a corny flavor. As for the sugar, if you have to choose one sugar, do the No2.

Mash
Same as last week, very straightforward mash and as always make sure your hot liquor has a pH around 5.4-5.6.

Hops
This recipe is march 1962 and the hops are 1961. Can't get much more fresh than this. The logs indicate that the hops are broken down per gyle by lbs per quarter. It is missing any details about dry hopping which I'm certain they did and in differing amounts for each beer. The IBU's tend to go up as the gravities go down which finishing even drier would make the beer seem more bitter than it actually is. John might be able to shine a bit more light on this. I would monkey with differing amounts of dry hops (if any) as well as different types.

Gyle breakdown and blending
I've done all th work for you. The first gyle has none of the sugars in them, just the mash. The second will have an OG from the runnings of the 1st mash of about 1.004. With all the sugars added in it will be around 1.010. This low gravity and a higher volume than the first gyle
ensures that this gyle is quite bitter at 45bu or so. The 3rd gyle would be the mash return but for us using treated liquor, or water in a pinch, is completely fine.

Gyle mashing
This is very simple. One mashes and then sparges the mash to get the volume of the first pre-boil wort based on their systems boil-off percentage. One then continues to sparge the same mash until the second wort is collected using the same parameters as the first.

Tasting notes
Sorry boys. This is one of the only ones I havent brewed. Ron got it to me Tuesday afternoon but as soon as I get a chance, I'll do it and add my tasting notes back.













I'm tempted to get Kristen to do Fullers 1962 Nourishing Stout next week. Then you'll have the full set. What do you reckon?

Fullers Pride

I'll be eternally grateful to John Keeling and Derek Prentice of Fullers. Something I didn't notice while I was being shown around the brewery. And left with their brewing records.

Occasionally a beer in logs reaches out and touches me. Russian Stout, obviously. Whitbread Mild. Whitbread Stout (you can still get a beer called that in Belgium). But none of those are still brewed. Apart from the Belgian one.

I'd hoped to find the Truman's logs from the 1980's, but was disappointed. Typically, it was just before they closed that Truman's suddenly took cask beer seriously and produced a Mild, Bitter, Best Bitter, Strong Bitter range. I liked all of them. But they don't have those years at the London Metropolitan Archives.

I'm very slow sometimes. London Pride was always my first choice in London. Unless they by some weird chance had Hock. (Have I told you this story before? Just tell me if I have. I don't want to go boring grandad on you.) Fate drew me towards the George & Vulture for two different reasons (hello Piers, if you're out there, it was just a joke, man, I was dead chuffed to see you after all those years). One was Piers. The other the arms factory. (I have told you this before, haven't I?)

LP, the brewhouse name for London Pride was all over the postwar logs. Often party-gyled with my favourite, ELP. I slurped down a stack of LP in the Sad Time (when I lived in London). Late 70's, so just a decade later than the last logs I've seen. Hock was great, when in good condition. Which, sadly, it often wasn't. That's in the logs, too, as X.

That's two Fullers beers, then. Seen in logs and drunk. Tonight time for number three. Something that was party-gyled with London Pride. Golden Pride. I'd really not tried it before about 20 minutes ago. I quite like it.

You don't want to read one of my shitty descriptions of how in tastes. Like concentrated London Pride. Nice. Exactly what I want to drink before eating my tea. (Ask Jeff to translate, if you don't understand what that means.)

Everything stops for tea.