Our local is an interesting place. For years it was a complete dump, very much like the Murderer’s Arms from Viz’s notorious “Real Ale T**ts” comic strip. But about five years ago, it was refurbished and reopened as a would-be trendy venue for hip young people.
I say “would-be” because it’s not as trendy as it thinks it is, and the clientele is neither uniformly trendy nor young — there are often groups of old ladies in there, and grumpy blokes reading the paper on their own. Nonetheless, it’s become a huge success because it’s the only pub in the area with a really warm, buzzing atmosphere, and because it has a garden.
I go there for another reason, though — the mild.
There are usually four or five ales on, but on the whole, they’re not well kept. Last year, though, someone convinced the landlord to take part in CAMRA’s campaign to promote mild, and Mighty Oak‘s Oscar Wilde appeared on the pumps. It’s been there ever since, fresh, local, well kept, and slowly gaining popularity.
Last night, I stood at the bar and listened to a stream of young men and young women order pint after pint of the stuff. So much, in fact, that the barrel had to be changed.
Ordinary people (as opposed to obvious beer nerds) were saying things like:
“Three point seven per cent? Wicked. I’ll have one of those.”
“Four pints of mild and a Kronenbourg, please. Oh — tell you what — make it five pints of mild.”
Someone ordered a whole round of mild! Becks Vier wasn’t getting a look in. Wouldn’t it be great if, instead of that or Carling C2 cornering the weak session beer market, mild did?