I'm a silent partner by the way.....

..........said the weirdo.

Beefy! I hear some of you cry, that is so judgmental!

Well, only literally. I did judge that he was mental, after all....

If you had been in the Rutland about 16.00 on the 08 March you may also have heard this or similar words uttered by this very odd man. Here's how my "chat" happened.

There I was, enjoying my second half of he frankly excellent Partizan Dank IPA at 6.7%, and a man with dark hair  and a studious look said "is it OK if I join you?" Noting that he didn't have a knife, gun, or worse, a bible, I decided to accept this seemingly harmless offer. We sat at the table for what seemed an age before he spoke.

"Is there anything that you need doing for you in your life at the moment then?" he asked. I said "No, am fine, thanks" and he shifted in his seat, failing to hold the gaze I was unwilling to give him. "Ah, OK so you are completely self sufficient in your life at the moment then?" he replied.

I wasn't quite sure what to say, but I had already started to become concerned by the oddness of these two responses. This was an awkward exchange, but not one that appeared to have a destination. I replied "Yeah". I looked away so that he couldn't clamber into my soul through my eyes. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

" Just to let you know, I am a silent partner, by the way" he continued. There was a pause whilst I thought how I might get rid of him, and also, about what on earth it might be that he was hoping to achieve.

"That's nice" I said, with only the very slightest modicum of sarcasm. In reality I wanted to ask him what he was a silent partner in, but feared that this may unlock a torrent of misguided ill thought through ramblings. I returned to my far off gaze.

The man sighed, stared at the table and grumpily said under his breath "well I can see am going to get nothing here" and said goodbye, also grumpily before approaching the bar, where he said something unintelligible to the barman, who when enquiring what he had said or meant was ignored, as the fruit loop said he was going outside for a smoke.

Once outside a man sat behind me came up and said "Did he tell you he was a silent partner as well?" and I confirmed he had, and we both shared details of our assessment by Lord Moron of Incommunicable Castle. It transpired that he had been in for some time and had spoken to about three sets of people. On going out to check what was going on the barman reported that he had left. I got another Partizan Dank, a pint this time. It was delicious.

I have started to realise, perhaps admit, that I spend a little too much time in the pub for my own good. And during that time I have listened in on and joined in many conversations, far reaching and varying from the heartfelt to the passionately absurd. The pub is, after all, a warm building where the mildly deranged often shelter. Its not surprising therefore that it oft attracts a certain calibre of crazy. One thing I do know is that I am reasonably good at communicating with folks, and hopefully, never make anyone feel as uneasy as this man did me.

I never did find out what he was a silent partner in....

Wee Beefy

Oh dear God, he's on about old pubs again...

I know, I know.

     however, I have something to reflect, about how an overheard conversation about a lost boozer (that's a building, not a sot) can stand out strikingly in the hub-ub of bar room noise.

The other night in the Closed Shop I overheard a bloke who seemed to be describing his impending move into or ongoing conversion of, the former Old Heavygate Inn, at nearby Crookes. A subtle nod from a member of staff that perhaps former customers may be in this pub and not share in his weird self congratulatory pleasure made no odds, and instead  elicited the response "perhaps if some of those customers had gone to the pub it would still be open".

Boom.

I can't really tell you how I felt about that blithe remark.

Because I hadn't ever expected to encounter someone not only taking joy in destroying hundreds of years of history, but even admitting to converting a pub intro a house, (or worse still developing the property into flats for profit). Yet here was a man who as well as having the dubious honour of confirming the above, also combined a glaringly simplistic assessment of the malaise affecting the urban pub, with a distasteful lack of awareness of the magnitude of the act he was talking about performing.

I cut short my conversation with Dave to hear the rest of the raconteur's musings but alas he slipped away with his drink and I never saw him again.

Maybe I can be prone to a slight case of over romanticising when it comes to old buildings, pubs especially, and the role they play. But in my defence, I really think it's rare to find someone not even slightly sympathetic toward those whose memories he, even in a small way, has played a part in trampling over, or that isn't attuned to the feelings that they might have. Especially when I find myself being one of that group of people.

Its a curious sensation. And quite frankly, one I'd rather not experience again.

How strange our race, who love bricks and mortar,
Near as much as hops and malt, and water.

Wee Beefy

The DA, da, do (or the do, DA, da)

Now Then,

    one thing that has become prevalent recently, (well, more than once), is pubs and breweries having birthdays. The Rutland Arms pretty much set the standard with their terrifically fun and birthday-centric goings on in October, and the Blue Bee birthday at the same venue was also notable for its excellent cake and celebratory atmosphere.

So its well timed that I am using the, ahem, "celebration" of my 200th post in 2012 to tell you about the first birthday at DAda on Trippet lane, where I have been known to visit previously. Please note, other pub venues near West Street are available....but not for the purpose of this post.

The thing is though, despite my borderline DAda bias, I was mildly underwhelmed by the pzazz and sense of occasion underpinning the DAda event. There was a distinct lack of party hats, balloons, streamers and cards when I arrived on Friday evening. No noticeable instances of the bumps, no raspberryade, no sausages on sticks, not even a novelty gift. I hadn't even brought my camera to record the celebrations. Thank goodness for excellent beer, or this would have been the most unbirthdayish birthday do at DAda since the last unbirthdayish DAda do (note, this doesn't really make sense, but is an unashamedly enjoyable jumble of noises, which I like).

Anyway, having broke from tradition and popped in on a Friday it seemed rude not to buy a drink, and undertaking which I was in equal measure surprised and dismayed to find that my spot was taken by another barfly. To my abject horror, I discovered that not only are there other nights of the week than Tuesday, but also, other people stand at the bar and drink.

Luckily I suspended my indignation long enough to discover that Rupert is someone who recognises me, even though I misremembered him from the Rutland, and is a fan of excellent beer. So I had good company for the first hour.

During which period I had a pint of Dark Star Sunbeam, having reassured myself that it wasn't the spicy one that I dislike, and indeed enjoyed it so much that I had another. My companion meanwhile was on Tzara but desperately awaiting the running out of the Abbeydale chocolate stout since we were told that Thornbridge Evenlode would replace it. Neither of us were in the mood for the chocolate malt offering but we grudgingly bought a half each, prompting a rush which cleared the way for the joyous Evenlode to appear. We had the first out, having listened to a hilarious 5 minutes of faux horror from the staff at the beer being unsellable....

Alas soon after acquiring his desired drink another pub and another drinker drew away my fellow barfly so I sought to protect myself against the possible isolation (not that this would happen with a full compliment of excellent DAda staff) and bolstered my determination to enjoy myself by having a few pints of the Evenlode in the end. Perilously easy to drink and deliciously smooth and satisfying at 6.2%, it was an irresistible tipple. I was later joined by the Bad Panda from the world of the Internet, so was able to talk beer and Manchester pubs with him for a while, all the time thinking about how I shouldn't have another Evenlode, only to promptly do just that.

Meanwhile, the threat of "music" hung like the sword of Damocles above us, threatening to make me leave early. Luckily I was able to stay long enough to wish everyone (the staff that is, not each individual punter, that would be mental) happy birthday, and to apologise to Jamie for being a girl the Saturday before.

So there you have it. Another anniversary, and another fledgling venue passing an early milestone, soon to be followed no doubt by the Three Cranes and The Hop and whatever celebrations they have lined up. Lets hope there's plenty more occasions to attend over the coming years.

Cheers!

Wee Beefy

Changing face or surprising trend?

Morning

     I was out with Wee Fatha and Wee keefy and Jambon last night for a trip to the redoubtable Royal Cottage, and another pub in the area. It was interesting to note that the Royal Cottage, probably one of the most traditional rural pubs in a 100 mile radius survives, in spite of its restricted opening hours and isolation. On the other hand though, other pubs in the area appear to be falling by the way side at an alarming rate. Is there a defining factor?

Last night was the trip to help find out, but we  were a bit late picking Wee Keefy and Jambon up as the Friday night Wednesday Leeds game was generating lots of traffic. Despite telling W.F this, he stuck to his desired route - and got stuck in traffic, whilst commenting that football always used to only be played on a Saturday, without extrapolating how that meant it shouldn't be played on a Friday. Once heading off with our full quota, Wee Keefy advised a Manchester Road escape, which was also ignored, leading us to another mire of traffic on Ecclesall Road. Hmm...

Eventually reaching the Royal Cottage, the light was already on and the door unlocked, and when we got in, and Jessie the Rottweiler finally realised that she was supposed to scare us off, i.e try and lick us all to death (especially tastily named Jambon), it was clear that Cliff's mate wasn't in either. This seems like such an insignificant thing, but as a semi regular visitor I can assure you that, quite simply, nothing changes here. Not at all.

Bottled delights in hand we sat down facing the bar end with Cliff in his favoured chair for a long chat, including finding out that having said nothing changes, the pub had in fact previously been called the Moorcock Inn. I couldn't find out when the change happened since Cliff and W.F and the others were busy nailing the date of Bonnie Prince charlie's retreat from Derby, which was amusingly implied by Cliff as the time the name changed, whilst the Scots were camped on Bareleg Hill nearby. Alas no-one asked W.F if he remembered.

Another round of drinks followed, me and Jambon on original strength bottled Old Speckled Hen, Keefy on Newky and W.F on tomato juice. As a professor of reminiscence W.F, and Cliff could probably, given the chance, talk for a whole day about all things transport, 1950's and changing times. Despite an unfortunate emphasis on motoring issues, I was just happy to sit, albeit slowly cooking by the fire, watching the natural conversation ebb and flow in front of my eyes.

All too soon we had to be off, which as per last time coincided with the arrival of Sam who probably comes in every Friday night. Jessie seemed to know he was there before he came in and got up to welcome him before any of us heard the door. We bade our farewell safe in the knowledge that whilst ever the pub remains open this scene will repeat itself unsullied for years to come.

Heading back through Longnor next we thought we saw life in the Crewe and Harpur Arms, and the Horseshoes is now closed, but we were heading for the new hub of real ale that is the Packhorse at Crowdecote. Its ten tears or more since I last visited with Wee Keefy, the 1980's since W.F popped in and a frst visit for Jambon. Whilst nothing has changed in the layout which is a long thin pub with an offshoot at the side of the entrance, one major change here is the bar.

Now sporting 5 handpumps, one for real cider, and almost all selling local or nearby brewery ales, this was a welcome relief, but not exactly a surprise since hearing of its renaissance I had looked at their website and knew broadly what to expect. The sites emphasis on food was not the catalyst for marginalised drinking, even though it was late when we arrived there was plenty of space to sit and drink and the owner Mick encouraged us to sit wherever we wanted. None of this "oh, you can't sit here I'm afraid, this is a dining table" malarkey. Just sit down and sup your beer. I may have to test this theory at peak food times admittedly...

On the bar was a choice of Kelham Island Best Bitter, Church End Lock Stock and Barrel, Nook Brewhouse Red Ale and the excellent Wincle Brewery Life of Riley. Keefy had the Nook, me and W.F the Riley and Jambon the surprisingly hoppy Church End. All the real ales are £3.10 a pint which I don't think is a bad price and the Church End and Wincle ale was brilliantly well kept and fantastically tasty.

The Nook Red was a little less well rounded and seemed to give up being a nice beer half way through, so that was taken off, but reducing the range slightly hardly ruined the excellent choice, and by the time Jambon had moved onto Bunnahabhain whisky it was clear that this was going to be an enjoyable closing session.

It was here, and along with information gained frm the Internet earlier this week, that I learnt the fate of Longnor's pubs and some of the others in the Staffordshire Moorlands Area.

The Crewe and Harpur, a large once traditional Marstons pub, changed hands about 8 years ago and became a destination food pub with  a range of real ales. At the time, though it was regrettable that it was deemed impossible to continue on a traditional course, the bright side was the range of real ales not usually available in Longnor. It has now closed, and is rented out as a holiday home (still with bar in situ it seems).

whats interesting is, this is an idea already made reality at the redoubtable Mermaid Inn, a listed building high on the Staffordshire Moorlands near the Royal Cottage. It had been a bit shakey in recent years and shortly before its closure, and on my last visit in 2008 it was a food pub doing one or two real ales. W.F suggested it had branched out into luxury accommodation and that too has now become a holiday home - sleeping 36. Necessary work appears to have been done and the interior looks stunning, and once again the bar is in situ but not in use. Its a sumptuous venue, but a crying shame its not still a pub.

Meanwhile down the road the Rock Inn at Upper Hulme forges a traditional path, still with a food emphasis but now stocking 3 real ales, one of which is local - Wincle Brewery's website states that they supply the beer, so that's a good sign. I haven't managed to get since the Wincle ale appeared so that would be my next plan when we are out that way.

Meanwhile, and finally, the Quiet Woman continues to attract customers by being unbendingly traditional, and in Longnor, the Horseshoes has finally closed, the Grapes has been shut for something near 5 years leaving only the very traditional previously never seemingly open Cheshire Cheese as the market village's only pub.

Its interesting to consider then that, the more traditional, almost exclusively real ale purveying country pubs are in fact doing well, whilst the ones that ditched that core traditional outlook have succumbed to conversion to other uses or simply closed down (not that either the Horseshoes or Grapes were particularly non-traditional).

Its heartening to see the traditional pubs hanging on and in the case of The Packhorse, thriving, but I wonder how many more large struggling isolated country pubs will be seen as tempting accommodation cash cows and suffer the same fate as the Mermaid? That two such pubs in close proximity (and apparently the owners are connected, if only by knowing each other) is almost a trend, and given the hard times in the pub industry I can see no reason why it won't continue to happen.

Thank God we can still visit the Royal Cottage and forget about post 1950's horrors, then nip to a quality real ale pub nearby to sate our drinking needs.

Cheers!

Wee Beefy   

Pubs around Trippet Lane, and other news.

  
   Evening,

      I have, as suggested previously, found less time to write these tomes of late due mainly to stuff, not to mention things. In short I have been busy being out, but rarely to the pub. This is a sad but ultimately much cheaper predicament, which I hope will not continue for too long.

That said a couple of outings in the last of the warm weather over the last two weeks have dug up a bit of gen, and an opinion or two, which I will share below.

Firstly, I appear to have been drawn to spend much more time frightening off young folks by standing at the bar looking thoughtful, glaring, and opining on bibulous subjects at Dada. Its testimony to their care in the community credentials and good natured outlook that no-one has sought to politely dissuade me from frightening the more timid customers, either that or no-one has noticed. Either way Dada has been a friendly house to hang around in of late and I like that.

Its interesting based on my experience that the perceived atmosphere and theme, which I myself commented on a few times in the early days, continues to be a gripe with customers of a beery slant who might enjoy the ales. Beer people, whatever the hell that means (!?) seem to be of the opinion that it loses points for its lack of guest ale, and for having a theme, making it instantly pretentious and therefore unwelcoming.

l still think the the theme is obtuse, puzzling and misplaced, but having watched a mixture of confused, enthused, bamboozled, happy and suspicious customers come and go from the bar over the last 6 months I am certain that the warm welcome isn't in doubt. Admittedly its not traditional bar fly territory, since punters, mainly groups or couples, retire to the furthest corners (and more than two stood at either bit of bar is just impractical), but if you take the time to hang around and talk to the staff, I think you'll find the banter is good. Ergo, the atmosphere is good.

There are two regulars who go in on a Tuesday which is my default visiting day. I feel I should know them because I have seen them in the Dog and Partridge, Red Deer and Bath Hotel for as long  as I can remember. The above list of boozers has little in common with Dada so its testament to the qualities mentioned that they seem to be  as happy as me sitting at the bar and enjoying good conversation.

Beer recently spotted includes Thornbridge Kipling, Bradfield Stout and they have been having beers from Sheffield Brewery. There has also been some decent Keykeg choice, if such things float your boat, such as Nogne O barley wine, Magic Rock High Wire and on my last visit the excellent Schlenkerla Rauchbier. And for those unsure, Steph, Emily Jamie and James know their stuff when it comes to the beer. Its a shame their aren't more guest cask ales but I suspect this is out of their hands, thus more a blot on Thornbridge's copybook. If they could just sell less of my "sigh beers" Brother Rabbit and Sequoia, I'd find it hard to stay away.

Other pubs do exist of course and on a recent unexpected visit I found that the the Wig and Pen still sells real ale (and not a bad price). I say this because it was starting to get a bit grim and I wondered if the expensive tastes of their clientele might see it stop being sold. Admittedly it was only Wentworth, WPA and a Wentworth guest on Tuesday, but it means a drop of the real stuff can be found to accompany the food if you are there for snaffling.

Its interesting though that I am now in a position where I feel the need to say "only Wentworth". When it was launched and for years after it was reliable stuff with Oyster Stout, Gun Park Dark and WPA standing out. WPA used to have a big hop finish, lots of grainy dry bitterness that realy hit the spot. However, I don't think I've had a good Wentworth beer in years. WPA now tastes like a beer of 3.0% and more malty, with almost no hoppy bite in the finish. Is this a case of familiarity breeds contempt or have they changed the recipes?  Either way its a groan beer  Which is a shame.

Talking of not exactly renowned venues for real ale, I was in All Bar One (not by choice) the other day and noted they once again only had 1 real ale on. I get the feeling two is unsustainable. This time it was Black Sheep, and to be honest its difficult to decide which is the more average of the two offered across their estate (the other being Doom Bar) - perhaps the Sheep edges it for being independent. And, even having said all that, contrary as I am, I didn't even try the real ale!

 Instead I had a pint of Rothaus wheat beer, and was quietly amused by the barmaid telling me when I asked for a drop more that the line was a pint - I could see the beer was well below and after my top up it settled just on, meaning my request was perfectly judged. The thing is, the line is on my side only, so how would she have known it was already at the line? I've moved on now though....

In developing news, as I think I mentioned previously, the Dog and Partridge finally closed in July but to continue my Kevin Keegan-esque predictive talents, is now set to reopen under the management or potentially ownership (a bit fact light I'm afraid this particular segment) of those running the Sportsman in town. I hear they intend that the venue will operate along similar lines,and they are hoping to sell good value beers. I couldn't be sure if it was open when I went past earlier in the week, so will update you when I know more.

Finally, this weekend (23rd to 26th August in fact) sees Potfest held at the Flowerpot at Derby. The idea of a beer festival at the Flowerpot is a bit like a sand festival at a beach, since there;s always a festival sized selection of beers at any given time. Expect an emphasis on the excellent Black Iris brewery output and guests from Yorkshire and Lancashire, and also perhaps the sight of a lesser spotted blogger or two. Well worth a visit.

Thats all I have for now, hopefully the last week of the month will herald some further beer adventures.

Wee Beefy.