It's christmas time

Holiday! No more work this year. Whahay! Let's go crazy apeshit.

It's sad that my first thought wasn't: great, I can laze about drinking beer all day. But: the wide screen on my new computer will be perfect for transcribing brewing records.

I've promised Alexei that we'll finish "Vive la Résistance!" while I'm off. He knocked up a story board yesterday. I rejected all his wood chipper scenes. (Where does he get his ideas? He hasn't seen Fargo.) We eventually came to a compromise. He can make his own blood and gore version. Mine will be 1950's stiff-upper-lip British style.

Barclay Perkins, Barclay Perkins. . . . . No, still doesn't work. I'm hoping that I'm trapped in a total immersion game and that's my escape password. Bum. What could the password be? I thought I'd worked out all the clues. This couldn't be reality, could it?

Barclay Perkins is, as I've already told you as many times as your granny's told you how to suck eggs, the secret-agent hero of "Vive la Résistance!".

No German beer in Paris yet

I love old brewing magazines. It's not just the statistics. There's loads of other weird stuff, too.

I've been spending the few quiet moments I snatch in the evening browsing "The Brewers' Journal" of 1940. I know. I should stop living in the past. Especially the two wars. But I just can't help myself.

The reports of former Paris correspondent of "The Brewers' Journal" are particularly striking. France in the immediate aftermath of the German occupation is not something I've heard much about before. This aricle was written in September 1940.

"Cafés and bistros are re-opening, and the large numbers of German soldiers and "tourists" brought to Paris, Nancy, Rheims, Chartres and other centres make for a substantial rise in consumption. The German news agencies may issue stories of the continued search for a non-alcoholic beer substitute, German men and women may be exhorted to follow the Fuehrer's example and drink only "weak lemonade or fizzy water", in the Paris cafés German visitos, officers and men insist on beer. Even wine is not equally popular, and as to apéritifs, the invaders consider them with utmost distrust.

Some importers and large café proprietors have endeavoured to obtain German beer. They placed orders with Munich, Berlin and other firms with whom they had done some trade before the war, but the German breweries cannot supply them. The chief obstacle seems to be just the factor which propmpted the French to invite the supplies - they wish to rid themselves of the Mark notes which they are accumulating. The German "customers" pay in mark exchange for the sumptuous meals which they take in French restaurants or coffee-houses, and the proprietors' anxiety to pass on these notes as soon as they can will be appreciated. The authorities in Germany, however, seem in no hurry to send such beer as they have, and see their marks come back in return. We cannot say whether this is also true of the Alsace and Lorraine districts. It is not unlikely that there supplies can be obtained from the Mannheim and Kehl breweries."
"The Brewers' Journal 1940" page 727.

The idea of German tourists in wartime Paris is rather weird. Though forcing people to accept their ultimately worthless mark notes isn't such a surprise. The nazis did practice a weird type of financial policy. It seems to have been mostly based on theft of one kind or another. All good stuff for my film "Vive la Résistance!" I'll do my best to work some of this in. The hero is, after all, a café owner.