I’m not entirely
sure what to make of recent reports about declining alcohol consumption, and it’s
hard to know what exactly is really driving the change. Are we witnessing a
genuine cultural shift in attitudes and behaviour, as some commentators
suggest? Or are more practical factors at play, such as the high price of a
drink today compared with 40 or 50 years ago, when people of my generation
first started going to pubs?
I didn’t grow up in
a household where alcohol was freely available. Neither of my parents drank. My
maternal grandparents, however, both enjoyed a tipple: my grandfather favoured
bottled pale and brown ale, while my grandmother preferred gin. Her story is
particularly interesting. Raised in the Welsh Valleys by strict, chapel‑going
Methodist parents, she never touched a drop until she moved to London to work
in service. She told me she was horrified to discover that my grandfather
enjoyed a few pints, and her first visit to a pub – somewhere in north-west London, Hampstead quite probably, was a shock. It was a proper spit‑and‑sawdust
place, nothing like the genteel surroundings she’d imagined. Despite that rocky
introduction, both grandparents came to enjoy a drink and were no strangers to
the pub.
Things were very
different on my father’s side. Neither of his parents drank, though I’m not
entirely sure why. My paternal grandfather originally came from South Africa
and arrived in Britain during the First World War to fight for “King and
Country”. He was injured somewhere on the Western Front and invalided out of the
services. I never saw any sign of lasting injury, but it wasn’t something one
talked about at the time, and I never thought it appropriate to ask my father.
My Granny Bailey was something of an enigma, and whilst, as a child, I was very fond of her,
I knew little about her background. She dressed in a distinctly old‑fashioned
way that’s best described as late Edwardian. If you’ve ever watched Dad’s
Army, my grandmother resembled those elderly ladies who pestered Jack Jones
the Walmington-on-Sea butcher, although she also bore a resemblance to Godfrey’s sisters, Sissy
and Dolly.
Fast‑forward to my
late teens, and I became the family member who broke the mould – the “black
sheep”, if you like, when I discovered the pleasures of going to the pub and
enjoying a decent pint. This was much to my mother’s horror and my father’s
indifference. During my student
years and well into my twenties, pub‑going and beer drinking were regular
fixtures in my life. When I lived in Maidstone, I’d wander down to the nearest
pub, which was one just around the corner, and spend an hour or two knocking
back two, or sometimes three pints in an evening. I doubt I was unusual in
that.
Later, when life
changed and I moved from wife No.1 to wife No. 2, my drinking habits shifted,
at the same time. Eileen has never been much of a pub‑goer, and whilst we’re chalk and
cheese in that respect, we get along perfectly well in most other
respects. My involvement with CAMRA ensured I still got out for a few pints,
and on quieter evenings I’d enjoy draught beer at home, initially from the
nearby Priory Wines Cellars, off‑licence in Tonbridge, and later, when I
changed jobs and began commuting to and working in Lewes, direct from Harvey’s
Brewery. I’d regularly visit the Harvey’s shop to fill my plastic, 4-pint
container with freshly drawn Best Bitter or whatever seasonal beer they had on
tap, and this situation continued for a number of years.
Over the last few
decades, my consumption has dropped considerably, especially since our son was
born. It’s now quite rare for me to go out in the evenings, and I also no
longer have a “local”. If I did, it
would be the Nelson Arms in Tonbridge, even though it is a bit of a hike:
thirty minutes there, forty minutes back. This is probably just as well,
health-wise. Instead, I might have a
small can or bottle in the evening, but my alcohol consumption has definitely
declined. The health lobby would say that’s a good thing, although brewers and publicans
might disagree.
What I haven’t included here are the years – the best part
of a decade, when I was a committed home brewer. I ended up as a pretty a good
well, and accomplished brewer producing full mash (all-grain), and well-hopped
beers on a plant that I’d cobbled together in our lean-to garage. Once every
four to six weeks, I’d churn out five gallons of eminently drinkable home brew,
in styles that ranged from pale ales and bitters to strong, winter ales, with
practically everything in between. Once primary and secondary fermentation were finished the
beer would be racked into polypins that were kept cool, out in the garage. The
whole process was a real labour of love, and but it was something I enjoyed,
and found very satisfying. However, it was rather time consuming and invariably
involved an early start – to get the mash. That was then followed by running
off the sweet wort, into the second hand, stainless steel Burco-boiler, that I picked up in a junk-shop. Sparging (look in up!) then followed, before a
rolling, 90-minute boil, which was when the hops were added. Cooling and
fermentation then followed, and in approximately three weeks’ time, the beer
was ready to drink.
Things changed when we had an extension built on the side of
the house. The garage disappeared, to form a new kitchen and adjoining dining
room, with a new bedroom and bathroom built up above. That was the end of my
home brewing which, although a shame in some respects, did give me freedom to
do other things. This was important, because from start to finish, the process
was quite time consuming. I also hate to think how high our electricity bill
must have been at the time, as boiling 5 gallons of wort, for a period of
around 90 minutes, must have consumed a lot of energy.
Somewhere at home, I’ve got a brewing log detailing the
various beers I produced over the years, and I must try and find it sometime,
as there was a substantial amount. I started out using books edited by the late
Dave Line, who was one of pioneers of mashing at home – as opposed to brewing
using malt extract. I later switched to the CAMRA sponsored, home brewing series,
written by Graham Wheeler. There’s plenty of opportunity here for some further articles
about home – brewing which I might get round to writing, once I fully retire.
Finally, and quite by chance, I met a character on our most recent cruise, who
was a dedicated full-mash, home brewer. We also met his wife who, came across
as not being quite so keen on her husband’s “hobby”! It was good chatting to
this individual, as well as encouraging to learn that there are still home-brewers
out there, dedicated to keeping this ancient craft alive.
