The Big Project has been great for making us visit pubs we might not otherwise have got to, such as The Prince Alfred in West London.
With a couple of hours to kill between hotel check-out and westbound train last Friday we searched for pubs nearby rather than rely on our old favourite, The Mad Bishop & Bear. Google turned up The Prince Alfred which immediately rang a bell for Boak: ‘It’s in Geoff Brandwood’s book – it’s got rare surviving snob screens. We have to go.’
We wandered through Little Venice, up one street after another of white stucco and genteel dustiness, until we found the pub sparkling with Victorian cut-glass glamour.
Challenge one: finding a way in. The obvious door led to the dining room and lounge – rather bland, hovered over by a smiling waitress. There was a Hobbit-sized door under the partition leading to the cosier spaces around the central island bar but they surely couldn’t expect us to duck under, could they? Health and safety and all that. No no no.
We were in London last week to pick up an award, see friends, work in the library, and look at pub architecture. That didn’t leave much time to drink beer.
When we passed the Red Lion on Duke of York Street at 6 pm it had burst its seams, spilling suited drinkers all over the pavement and road. We returned at 9 by which time it was quieter and we slipped into the coveted back room. It’s an amazing pub, the Red Lion — really beautiful, full of cut glass and mirrors and warm light. There’s a reason Ian Nairn gives it a whole page of soupy swooning in Nairn’s London. The woman behind the bar pulled the first pint, paused, and said, ‘I’m not serving you that. It doesn’t look right.’ She turned the clip round and suggested something else. Impressive. Oliver’s Island, pale and brewed with orange peel, continues to be decent enough without igniting any great passion on our part. ESB, on the other hand, seems to get better every time we have it — richer, more bitter, ever juicier. Same again, please. It gave us hangovers but it was 100 per cent worth it.
A short film by the 1000 Londoners project: “John Hatch is a passionate connoisseur of beer and brewing. From a very young age he worked for the award-winning Young’s which brewed its beer at The Ram, the oldest brewery in the country, with records going back to 1533.”
WARNING: Contains scenes of pewter tankard use which some viewers may find disturbing.
This weekend, we met a friend’s father for the first time, and he said: ‘You’re writing a book about beer, aren’t you? Have you ever heard of Becky’s Dive Bar?’
He told us about drinking at Becky’s, where he was dragged by a colleague who was a member of the Society for the Preservation of Beers from the Wood to drink Ruddle’s from a barrel on the counter-top.
When we mentioned Starkey, Knight & Ford, he disappeared into a store room and returned with a green bottle bearing the brewery’s name, an early version of their prancing horse trademark, the intertwined SK&F logo, and the name of a nearby town, Paignton. ‘I found it in a hedgerow,’ he said.
He served us beer in Young & Co. half pint glasses with the slogan ‘Real Draught Beer‘, picked up at Young’s shareholder meetings. ‘The AGM was the biggest piss-up in town for the price of a single share,’ he told us. ‘John Young would ask who wanted to hear a long speech and we’d all shout NO! Then he’d ask who wanted some beer and we’d shout YES! You had to take the afternoon and the next day off work.’
The he wondered whether we might be interested in seeing his share certificate from the Tisbury Brewery? Readers, we were interested. It took him a while to find: ‘I keep it hidden away. I can’t stand to look at it because I lost a lot of money. I keep it as a reminder not to make stupid investments.’
It’s good to meet someone who has lived what we’ve only read about.
Fact: a geek will try to collect every item on any list he or she is given, and absolutely will not stop, ever, until it is ticked.
Since we spoke to CAMRA-founder Michael Hardman last year, we’ve been keen to get our hands on a copy of an influential publication he told us about — Young’s Brewery’s Real Draught Beer and Where to Find it. First published in the mid-sixties, it represents, we think, the first use of the term ‘real’ in connection to beer in this way, and perhaps begot ‘real ale’. Now, thanks to John Green, CAMRA’s first employee, we have a photocopy of the 1971 edition.
Green was discovered by CAMRA after he was featured in the local paper in St Albans after becoming a member of the 135 Association by drinking at every pub listed in the pamphlet. Graham Lees, another founder member of the Campaign, happened to be working on the paper in question and gave him a call. Like many such relics, it’s interesting not only in itself, but also because it’s covered in annotations — in this case, A to Z map references and crosses against the name of each pub.