Drinking habits

 For years, I drank a few bottles of St Bernardus Abt every day. It sort of defined me.

Not any more.

This year, I've drunk pretty much no beer at home. Why? A change in habits.

These last 12 months have presented a few challenges health-wise. Starting with my broken arm in Salvador.

Feeling a bit fucked, and in quite a bit of pain, I knocked off drinking for a while. Until it became a new habit.

I don't drink beer at home any more. I bought 11 Abts in December 2024 for Christmas. I drank the last one on 5th July 2025. Why the big change?

Habit. I realise much of my drinking over the years has been about habits. Those four or five Abts every night? A habit. Once illness broke that routine. Well, I didn't feel the need to do it any more. 

It's probably for the best. Even though I do still love Abt. I just don't want it to take over my life.

Marathon

I hope that's what I'm on. If it's a sprint, I'm fucked.

Long view is what I'm all about. That doesn't stop with the present.

Outside of my obsession with Tetley's Mild and St. Bernardus Abt, I am genuinely interested in the wider world of beer. I consume the occasional sludge beer. Admittedly mostly due to inadequate signage. I still drink them. I'm not a monster. Also for research purposes. Know your enemy.

Been good to finish a couple of books this year. And publish them. Another is three-quarters done.. Stuff is getting finished. New books are rolling along.

A long run. I hope that's what I'm on. I'm nowhere near finished with the books I plan on writing.

Unless I drop dead, of course. You can never rule that out at my age.  Here's hoping I have a few more years yet.

Christmas saved

Yesterday, at Ton Overmars, they swore they had another crate of Abt at the back. But they were too busy to look for it. "Come back tomorrow."

He wasn't lying. It was mobbed. With annoying Christmas drinkers. Spending 20 minutes staring at the hundreds of whiskies. Get out of my way you fuckers. I need to find the cheapest Islay. I can only dream of buying Lagavullin.

I went back today. Far less crowded. No Abt on the shelves.

"Sorry, I was wrong. I think I forgot to order."

Well, there's Christmas fucked. I didn't say. I sadly surveyed the depleted shelves and settled on Guinness Special Export. And one bottle of Westvleteren 12. A good substitute for Abt. And not too crazily-priced at 4.95 euros. But I can't afford Drinkalongathon quantities.

Christmas wouldn't be Christmas without Abt.

After sobbing a while at home, I remembered the Gall & Gall on Amsteveenseweg. They usually stock it. But how many bottles would they have? Enough for Drinkalongathon?

I braved the long trek there, over the river and beyond. Five bottles on the shelf. Could I stretch that little out over the whole of Christmas?

"Do you have any more bottles of Abt?"

"In the fridge."

Christmas saved.

Old beer

I went round to Mikey's for a meal a while back. As usual, I took my own beer. Which beer, you ask? St. Bernardus Abt, obviously. But not just any old Abt.

"That's interesting," I told an uninterested Dolores after buying a new batch of Abt, "It looks like they've gone back to the old crown cork."

That's cool. I much preferred the old design. But I noticed something when I cracked the first bottle. It tasted rather different. Almost as if it had been aged,

Closer inspection revealed that wasn't  a coincidence. According to the sell-by date, it was, indeed, two years old.

 I took a mixed batch, old and new, over to Mikey's. And very6 nicely they went down, too. Both sorts.

Looking through the bag of empties the next day, I noticed a bottle of Rochefort 10. I hadn't taken that, had I? Sure enough, there was still a full bottle of the old Abt. Damn. I'd been saving that.

The Rochefort 10's with a sell-by date was in 2012. So, assuming their usual 5-year best by date, I make it 16 years old. 

Why didn't I notice? Because of those old Abts. I was expected some aged beer and that's what I got. Just a lot older than I realised.

 

Enthusiasm

I recently ran a slightly tongue-in-cheek poll about enthusiasm for beer. Obviously, it's not a fair cross-section of society, being people who follow me on Twitter, mostly.

I was genuinely surprised, even considering that, at the general level of enthusiasm.

Are you enthusiastic about beer?
More than ever	29.60%
Loads	46.30%
Only if it's Abt	7.60%
Can't be arsed	16.40%
341 votes

In which category would I place myself? No, it's not option 3. I'd say that, sadly, I'm still at option 2. Dead enthusiastic. Which is a bit of a surprise. Because I've been at this stuff for years, off and on.

My enthusiasm levels are much where they've always been: very far over to the obsessive side. What has changed is the nature of that energy.

When I was younger, I dived headlong into the swimming pool of beer. Initially searching out as many cask beers as I could. Though, in particular Mild. With foreign travel, that interest widened. As I hunted down Lagers in Czechoslovakia, Alt in Düsseldorf and Gose in Saxony. Pursuits to which I devoted considerable energy and expense.

I rarely join the chase foe a specific beer nowadays. Unless it's something really special. And by special, I mean odd, forgotten and obscure styles. Not the latest trend. I can take or leave the newest type of IPA or adulterated Imperial Stout. My interest has now mostly shifted to history. Understanding how beer styles are formed and mutate as they spread out from their initial homelands.

I put in as much time and effort as ever, Just in a different environment. No longer out in the field with my binoculars hoping to spot a rare bird to cross off my list. But at my computer, excavating the barrows of long-lost brews. Without enthusiasm, I wouldn't be doing this work.

I hope I never lose it, my boundless enthusiasm for beer. For what would I be without it? Just another fat, old bloke sitting in the corner with a half-finished pint of Mild.
 

 

I wrote a poem today by accident

Forgive me.
It's effing hot here.
I put a bottle of Abt in the fridge.
Just for 20 minutes.
I'm not a monster.

What I've drunk recently

I'm feeling crap - why do I always get ill when I'm off work? - which is why you'll have to put up with this nothing post.

Dolores has been encouraging me to drink up some of my beer stock. Well, not so much encouraging as threatening me. I can't see what the fuss is. there can't be more than 70 or 80 bottles on our living room floor.

It's a radical departure for me. I usually drink little other than St. Bernardus Abt. I was surpised at how varied a set I'd drunk of late 

It's Friday night

Yay. No more work. For two days.

Lots of stuff to do, but no inclination other than to pour another Abt. Did I mention there's lots going on in my life?

It's my own fault I have too many ideas. In the shower. On the tram. Ticking away at my keyboard. Two book ideas this evening. One that might even tempt a publisher.

There's a manual I should be reading*. But I'm listening to Steely Dan instead. Only a fool would say that. Seems appropriate.

I've spent the week drinking - and sometimes throwing  - away the beer that clutters the floor around me. I need to clear space*. And to minimise the percentage of my income that goes to Ton Overmars. I have no choice. "Where are you going to put that thing? You'll have to get rid of other stuff."

As always, Dolores has a point.

It's been fairly painless so far. Drank some stuff that needed drinking. Slung some never right or past its best. Found a couple of gems I won't be drinking in a while. The Rochefort 10 with a sell by date of 06 10 1998. It originally had five mates. The pair I drank after 10 years sent my socks into orbit.

There's a very dusty Wesvleteren 12 with the date rubbed off. Could one of the ones Filip gave me for a bit of beer menu rewriting. That would be around 10 years old. Or could be a remnant from the crate I got at Bierkoning more than 20 years ago.

Meant to say this earlier. Despite what I've been telling everyone all year, I won't be at Borefts. I'll be doing some judging at the Stockholm Beer & Whisky Festival. Dolores thinks I'm crazy. Nothing new there. Again, she may have a point. There's a 10-hour judging session. Let's hope I don't get non-alcoholic Lagers again. I contemplated drowning myself in the toilets that time. Only the prospect of free chips for lunch saved me.

Just had to pour another Abt to celebrate my fleeting freedom from wage slavery. Where was I?

Friday night, relaxing. Ideas. For me they turn too readily into obsessions. With the access I have to material, even a vague interest can result in thousands of hours - what does Dolores say ? - "doing that useless beer shit".

She has a point. There's fuck all money in it.

But the almost-rans of fifties merger mania. That's worth 1% of my remaining time on earth, isn't it?



* Why will become clear soon. 

2014

This morning I realised that I still have 2.5 days holiday left. Amazing, eh, given the amount of travelling I've one?

So I took the afternoon off. For a bit of a rest. It's been a busy year. And the next looks like being worse. Best grab respite while I can.

Looking back fondly, picking out highlights, rewarding the worthy and chastising the wicked. That's usual at this time of year. I've done it myself. With my mean-spirited awards for crap beer history writing. Then thought - what's the point?

Looking forward is the other cliche (one which has already snared me). Which leaves me with today.

The weather is crap. Wet and windy. Alexei is upstairs screaming at French gamers, Andrew's off on the piss around his mate's and I'm still wasting my time writing blog posts. Really is plural. This is the third today. ("European beers in 1929" and "German and English Beer Types Compared in the 1930’s" are the other two.) So much for resting.

These are my awards for 2014 (12th December):

Highlight: leaving work this afternoon
Best beer: St. Bernardus Abt*
Best book: "Beer from the Expert's Viewpoint" by Arnold Spencer Wahl and Robert Wahl, 1937.**
Best place visited: Ton Overmars Slijterij
Best off-licence: Ton Overmars Slijterij
Best whisky: the small bottle of Lagavullin hidden between my Abts
Best magazine: Viz***




* the only beer I've drunk today.
** the only book I've read today.
*** you must be getting the hang of this by now.



Before I forget, today is a brilliant time to buy yourself a present that you'll cherish for the rest of your life:


Barclay Perkins Bookstore

Ever been in a situation as weird as this?

St. Bernardus Abt is often suggested as a substitute for Westvleteren 12. I'm doing it the other way around.

I told you that Ton Overmars has got in some Westvleteren. It's quite nice. I can pick up a bottle or two with little effort, if some expense. But he's run out of St. Bernardus Abt.

What a weird situation. Being forced to buy Westvleteren against my will.

Sabotage

"You use alcohol as a crutch". Is an accusation that's been lobbed at me more than once in my beer-ridden life. It's not true. Though wood* is tied to my realtionship with booze.

Bad times, like birth, death and going to the toilet, are experiences we all share. But life is like The Who. All about contrast.

Why were they known as the loudest band in the world? Not because they had the biggest, baddest PA. Live at Leeds will explain. Light and shade, That's what it's all about. Full on thrash then near whisper. The noise sounds noisier because of the silence inbetween.

We all share depressing times. And, let's be honest, we've all imposed bad times on others. Sometimes accidentally, others with the sharp intent of a cobra's strike.

Unlike the pogoing concert-goer, I prefer the slow. Emotions? I'd like them to remain quiet.

"Why do you drink?" is the most annoying - and awkward - question. Stock replies abound: to be sociable, because my friends do, for the flavour, for the buzz, to relax, to loosen my inhibitions, to dare talk to that girl, to make me puke and awake swimming in a pool of my own wee. All reasonable enough reasons. They've all applied to me.

"I enjoy the effect on my head and it tastes quite nice." is the most honest answer I can conjour up. I don't have to drink beer. (I worked that out recently by having 3 or 4 beer-free days a week.) But I'd be a liar if I denied that, health and belly aside, I'd drink four or five Abts every day.

But there are special times. Sad times. When the wheels in my head won't stop spinning.

Alcohol isn't a crutch. It's a clog to hurl into the gears of runaway thought.






* Defintely not in the naughty film sense.

ZBF 2013

I've not been going to as many beer festivals over the last year or two. Too many clashes with other activities. Plus, in the case of Belgian festivals, the awful train service puts me off.

I like the ZBF enough that, despite the physical trouble of getting there, I'm prepared to put the effort in. And, believe me, it was quite an effort. Leuven is only about 160 km form Amsterdam, yet it takes almost 4 hours, changing 2 or 3 times, to get there by train. The Fyra, a jerry-built Italian train, that's supposed to provide a high-speed connection between Amsterdam and Brussels has been withdrawn from service for an indeterminate period while they attempt to get it to work properly. The slower, intercity service it replaced no longer runs. Which means, apart from the expensive, reservation-only Thalys, there's no direct train connection between Amsterdam and Belgium.

Getting to Leuven wasn't the end of the horror. Brabanthallen, where the festival is held, is on the outskirts of town. There's a free shuttle bus, but when we arrived there was a huge scrum waiting at the its stop. After watching the crowd swell for 15 or 20 minutes, a bus eventually arrived, onto which we were swept by the throng behind us. Quite scary, but not as bad as the ride itself. 82 standing and 44 seated passengers the bus said it could cope with. There were a lot more than that onboard, judging by the way it struggled up every incline. It barely made it to the top of one hill. But it was the cornering that got to me. Every time the bus made a sharp left turn, it leant worryingly far to the right. Unfortunately it was almost all left turns on the final approach.

Inside the festival we found seats, which is always a plus. Next to the bloke with a beard who's always in Wildeman on a Saturday afternoon. Time to survey the land and decide what to drink next. (I'd picked up a Houblon Chouffe on the way to finding a seat.) That's when I noticed where we were sitting: right next to the St. Bernardus stand. There were my next three beers sorted out: St. Bernardus Christmas Beer, St. Bernardus Abt 2009 and draught St. Bernardus Abt. I'm so adventurous.

As three and a bit hours were all the time we'd get, I only bought 12 tokens. Just eight to go. Last year I'd enjoyed Tilquin's Lambiek a lot and luckily their stand wasn't far from my seat this year. I moseyed on over and was delighted to see they'd handpulled Lambiek. All lovely and flat, just the way I like my beer. It seemed silly to just have the one, especially as I had to wait 5 minutes to get served while the barman chatted with his mate. Some of us are thirsty out here, you know. The second and third went down well. It seemed a shame to stop there, so I had another three.

Just two tokens left. Beer Nut slowed down my pace when I bumped into him beer-less and hung around a bit for a chat. By the time I got back to Mike and our seats, there wasn't a great deal of time left. Having picked up some ondescript brown beer on the last leg of my walkabout, I had a single token left. What to spend it on? Obvious, really: St. Bernardus Abt 2009.

I managed to lose Mike in Mechelen station while he was fetching a shoarma. While between trains in Antwerp, I slipped into Spar and picked up some impulse schnapps and two cans of Gordon's Platinum. Just to make the journey pass a little more quickly. The Gordon's was cannily full of beer flavour. And high in alcohol, which is what I look for most in a train beer.

I hope the train service is sorted out by next year. I'm too old for these day-long journeys. 10 hours travelling for just 3 hours boozing. It should be the other way around.

Drinkalongathon 2012 shopping reminder

There are just a few days left to get in supplies for what looks like being the merriest Drinkalongathon ever!

I know you wouldn't want to miss out on such a special event through lack of forward planning. For you to say on Christmas morning: "Shit, I've no Lagavullin and no string."

I want to save you from such heartache. That's why I'm repeating the list of the stuff you'll need to have to hand on 25th December. Remember, you must have all the items to fully participate.

1 crate St. Bernardus Abt
8 bottles St. Bernnardus Prior
1 bottle manzanilla sherry
1 bottle fino sherry
1 bottle port (preferably LBV)
1 bottle Lagavullin
1 bottle Laphroaig 
1 bottle Villiers 8
1 bottle Rotkäppchen
1 bottle of some red wine or other
1 small bottle of still water
1 packet paracetamol and codeine
1 meat and potato pie
1 bottle vermouth
1 wheelchair
1 medium-sized plastic bag
2 bottles absinthe
1 mop
2 buckets
1 10 inch piece of string
1 hard boiled egg
1 quarter slice of Warburton thick sliced bread, toasted
1 bottle 8 year old rum, preferably Appleton
1 slice of lemon
1 rasher of thick-sliced smoked bacon
3 toothpicks
2 bottles Guinness Special Export Stout
1 bar soap
1 bottle grappa
4 paper hats
6 paper handkerchiefs
1 miniature vermouth
1 bottle advocaat
3 sardine fillets
1 spare pair underwear
2 spare pairs trousers
6 spoons
7 medium-sized pickled onions
1 1.25 inch diameter Jersey Royal potato, boiled for 6 minutes
1 half bottle overproof rum
2 glasses crank
3 towels, neatly folded
1 red star badge
1 portrait of Stalin (or other dictator of your choice)
1 demijohn applejack
1 pack smackothene
1 wrap crystal myth
1 wrap icing sugar
1 7-inch willow-patterned plate
3 roast parsnips
1 bottle chili beer
6 rolls toilet paper
1 stretcher

Get shopping now!

I went to Belgium yesterday

and did some pretty exciting shopping:

 I'm regretting now I didn't buy the 96% ABV "consumptie alkohol" from Filliers.

Drinkalongwithron this christmas

You know what would be great at this special time? If somehow we could share a drink or two over the holidays.

"But how can we when we're all in different countries?" By using the power of the interwebs to shrink the world and interconnect us, real-time.

How does it work? Every time I'm about to pour a drink, I'll post on the blog. You should have time to pour the same for yourself and hey presto, we're sharing a drink.

Of course, to accomplish this, you'll need to buy in the same drinks as me. So, possibly just about in time, here's a list of what you'll need:

24 bottles of St. Bernardus Abt
12 bottles of St. Bernardus Prior
1 litre of Laphroaig
1 bottle of Fino sherry
1 bottle of Manzanilla sherry
2 bottles of Ruby Port
1 bottle of Tawny Port

That should just about do for the 25th. Oh, and a couple of bottles of nice wine. Good-quality Bordeaux or something like that.

14th November 2010 - 6

16:45 I take the camera outside to take some photos. Nice light. Or is that the St. Bernardus?

Our upstairs neighbour walks by and asks what I'm doing. I was standing in the middle of the road, so it wasn't an unreasonable question. I explain I'm taking photos. Man, what a crazy life I lead.

Lexie was disruptive during the programme about disruptive kids. I know. There's irony in there somewhere.

17:05 Photos done. Time to relax. With my friendly Abt?

Not this time. I've gone for a Bock. Amstel Bock. A beer for which I have a genuine affection. The archetypal Dutch Bock. Odd that it's a product of one of the world's giants. But I worshipped Tetley's Mild, just as much a beer from the wrong side of the capitalist tracks. I've learned to be open-minded. About most things.

Except the mishandling of our traditional German Lagers. That's why I'm starting Die Campagne für bayrischen Anstich.

14th November 2010 - 5

15:40 Shouting, shouting , shouting. That's what I've got myself another St. Bernardus Abt. It calms the shouting in my head, too.

Banged up Abroad. I should have put that on. As a warning to Lexie. Yeah, right.

They're crying on The World's Strictest Parents. I fell like crying, too. Best have another beer.

"Kids - which one of one of you is going upstairs?"

"Me."

"Me."

"No, me."

Me - me - me - me - me - me - me - me . . . . . . .

I need to go on a trip. East.

14th November 2010 - 4

14:39 That last beer had a funny winey taste. Not like beer at all. Time for a change of pace: St. Bernardus Abt.

Whitechapel. I'd been looking forward to the episode so much. In the Blind Beggar. It's such a lovely pub. I have such happy memories of it. Happy that I don't have to visit such horrible pubs. Maybe it's changed since 1979. Can't imagine it got any worse.

14:43 The bastards. They've just used any old pub. Bastards.

The Yorkshire puddings were particularly yummy today. Despite having no black bits. They were so good, I'm going to share them with you. Only in visual form, I'm afraid. You're going to have to take my word for how scrumptious they were.

14:56 The kids have started getting excited again.

"If you take ADHD tablets you get hyperactive."

"Sounds like just what I need, Lexie. Remember to act crazy next time I take you to the doctor." That won't be hard.

"Lexie, those are my salt and vinegar crisps."

"You're so selfish, dad."

"You've eaten more of them than I have."

They've started watching The World's Strictest Parents. It's just like life here. Except for the strictness.

14th November 2010 - 2

12:35 I can no longer hear sounds of struggle from upstairs. Armistice? Or just the fact I've turned Nigella up to 11? If I can't hear it, it can't be happening.

Nigella Kitchen is my favourite comedy programme. I love the way everything is so transparently fake and staged. Like the bits wear she raids the fridge. Comic genius.

12:37 I've rewarded myself, for not screaming at the kids (well, only a little, not enough to really count) by getting myself a St. Bernardus Abt. First of the day. barring Armageddon, it won't be the last.

12:39 The Yorkshire puds will be going in the oven soon. Will that calm down the kids? Probably not. They'll fight over the last one. We already have to weigh their food to make sure neither gets a gram more than the other.

12th November 2010 - 4

20:05 Back on the Abt. He's the top man. He's my mate, he is.

I wonder why I love Abt so much? Perhaps the alcoholly falling overness of it. Or the taste. Naah. Don't be silly. It's the alcoholly intoxicatedniness of Abt that makes it so much fun. That and the pretty blue label.

20:08 Bugger transcribing logs. Let's surf the net.

20:09 "Daaad, can you stop shouting at the computer?" "Why Lexie? Are you jealous?"

20:11 "Daaad, what's this horrible black stuff?" "That's my tea, Andrew."