Happy Full Moon

Today is not any old Christmas day.

Not since 1977 has a full moon dawned in the skies at Christmas. But this year a bright full moon will see in Christmas day 2015 - the Werewolves will be out wearing their Christmas jumpers!

Talking of Werewolves it’s also Shane MacGowan’s birthday (born 25th December 1957) and Santa has only gone and brought him a set of new nashers.

 
He was once dubbed as “the thinking man’s Liberace” by Radio 1 DJ Gary Davies, a bit over the top I think, but he did write some great lyrics and among my favourites is this:

It was Christmas Eve babe
In the drunk tank
An old man said to me, won't see another one
And then he sang a song
The Rare Old Mountain Dew
I turned my face away
And dreamed about you

Got on a lucky one
Came in eighteen to one
I've got a feeling
This year's for me and you
So happy Christmas
I love you baby
I can see a better time
When all our dreams come true

They've got cars big as bars
They've got rivers of gold
But the wind goes right through you
It's no place for the old
When you first took my hand
On a cold Christmas Eve
You promised me
Broadway was waiting for me

You were handsome

You were pretty

Queen of New York City

When the band finished playing

They howled out for more

Sinatra was swinging, 

All the drunks they were singing

We kissed on a corner

Then danced through the night

The boys of the NYPD choir

Were singing "Galway Bay"

And the bells were ringing out

For Christmas day

"Fairytale of New York" started life as a bet - Pogues producer Elvis Costello bet Shane MacGowan and co-writer Jem Finer, the band’s banjoist, that they couldn’t come up with a Christmas record that wasn’t slushy.

The song was originally written as a duet between Shane MacGowan and Pogues bassist Cait O'Riordan. However, O'Riordan married Costello and left the band in 1986, before the song was recorded. Costello was replaced as producer by Steve Lillywhite, who asked his wife, Kirsty MacColl, to record test vocals to help the band hear how the duet could work. They were so astounded by her performance she got the job. Before hearing MacColl, MacGowan had suggested Pretenders frontwoman Chrissie Hynde as a possible partner for the duet.

It was first recorded in 1987 and kept out of the number 1 slot by the Pet Shop Boys’ “Always on my Mind” or according to MacGowan, "by two queens and a drum machine"!

Ella Finer, daughter of co-writer Jem Finer, now often sings Kirsty’s parts at live concerts.

In celebration of these trivial facts here is the countries favourite Christmas song which has been in the top 20 every year since it's re-release in 2005, (look out for Matt Dillon as the NYPD patrolman who arrests the intoxicated MacGowan):

MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY FULL MOON!

Hey Ho!

RIP "Iron Man" Murphy

Mick Murphy, one of Ireland’s most colourful sportsmen, has died aged 81.

Over his 80-plus years, the eccentric Kerry man was a cyclist, wrestler, boxer, runner, farmer, circus performer, fire eater, ventriloquist and bricklayer.

He lived in a simple home on his parents farm outside Cahersiveen, without electricity or running water, corrugated iron sheeting as windows and door and with few modern conveniences. He joked that he modelled it on a 'chicken shack'.

This basic lifestyle mirrored his race preparations, which included sleeping in hay barns, eating raw meat and even drinking cow’s blood. He trained using homemade stone weights in his self made gymnasium.

Murphy was known as ‘the Iron Man’ following his epic 1958 win in the Rás Tailteann cycling stage race. Taking up cycling full-time only six months before the 1958 Rás, Murphy, who was raised on a small farm at Sugrena near Cahersiveen, defeated far more experienced athletes in the race. Moreover, he continued to ride despite breaking his collarbone on one of the stages, in Co Kerry, having to be strapped to his bicycle to continue the next day.

He said he learned about drinking cow’s blood from the Masai warriors of East Africa, a ritual also practiced by Russian weightlifters.

Murphy pared down a knife into a sharp point and would pierce the animal in the thigh and drain a glassful of blood, which he believed gave him strength.

“Attack is the best defence. Attack after attack. I was a different breed. I used to attack and go away from the bunch. I have no doubt about it, I was the greatest solo rider in Ireland because I surged, I surged, I surged,” he said.

“We were known as the riff-raff of the road. The convicts of the road.”

 

His 1958 win in the Ras Tailteann, which at the time was one of Ireland’s leading sporting events, is the stuff of legend.

He came from nowhere to take honours having only taken up cycling six months before.

It was reported that he would ride up to 40 miles on his bike after a stage just to cool down and to find a field of cows so he could build back his strength with a cup of their blood.

Also during the ’58 race, mechanical failure forced him to abandon his bike on a stage to Clonakilty in Cork and so as not to lose time he stole a bike from a shocked local farmer herding his cows. The old boneshaker had no gears and was too heavy, but Murphy buried himself to ensure that he didn’t lose much time on the leaders and this kept him in overall contention.

Following the race he was arrested for the theft of the bike but was later released, without charge, following his overnight rise to fame and national hero.

After his third Rás in 1960 he never cycled competitively again. 

Earlier in his life he was left deaf in his right ear following a punch from a heavyweight in the boxing ring. Murphy was a far smaller welterweight.

His first sporting pursuit was wrestling and during an early stint in London he was a leading fighter on the English circuit.

He left school early in order to work and help his family, but his mother taught him to read and he devoured books all his days.

From 1972 until 1980, Murphy worked on building sites in Germany, where he returned after re-unification in 1990 to work in the country’s east.

As late as 1998 he was performing circus tricks such as sword swallowing, balancing ladders on his chin, fire-eating and walking on his hands, in London’s Covent Garden.

However, a work place fall off scaffolding whilst bricklaying the same year resulted in broken ribs and a collapsed lung.

This lead to his decision to return home to South Kerry following decades on the road around Ireland, Britain and Germany.  

In his latter years Murphy, born in the early 30s, walked with the aid or two home-made sticks and he refused to draw the state pension.

In an article in the Kerryman earlier this year, well-known Kerry broadcaster and journalist Weesie Fogarty paid tribute to his friend.

"He has brought me in the mind's eye to far away places as he recounted his experiences working with circuses, farmers, on the bogs of Ireland on the motorways of Germany and of course his memorable exploits on the bike," wrote Fogarty.

"Yes, he is eccentric, yes he is a loner, yes he is different, yes he dresses unlike others but he is one of the most charismatic, fascinating, enthralling, and strictly honest men I have ever been privileged to know."

Listen to Mathew Bannister paying tribute to Mick Murphy on Radio 4's Last Word

In recent years the legend of the “Iron Man” was been celebrated in film and writing. There has been an RTÉ documentary, A Convict of the Road; a film made for the Killorglin Archive Society called The Marvels of Mick Murphy; a play based on his life by UK-based Irish writer and actor Roddy McDevitt.

RIP Mick Murphy, a truly remarkable man.

The 89 Steps

Whilst flying to Tenerife two weeks ago I read a newspaper article in which EasyJet chief executive Carolyn McCall today called for tightened security at a number of airports, saying this was a global issue. Although she would not name the airports, she made it clear that following the deaths on Russian flight 9268 it was time for a fundamental rethink.

We landed at Tenerife South 30 minutes early and walked through to the security area only to find no one on duty at the two customs kiosks and a rope across each entrance. We joined the queue which, after a few minutes backed up to the top of the escalators causing chaos as people struggled to get off.

After 5 minutes the two guys at the front of the queue decided to unhook the ropes and walk through. They were followed by at least 30 others and just before we were about to follow suit a customs officer came running and shouting for people to wait.

Methinks Carolyn McCall is right.

The climate in the Canaries in November through to February is perfect, with temperatures of 22C to 26C every day. There is very little rain (we’ve not seen a drop for 2 weeks) and although it can be a little breezy it is always warm and shorts are the order of the day even at night.

I couldn’t write a blog without mentioning the price of beer!

Yes it’s lager, no real ales here, but the local Spanish beers, Dorada and Estrella special (5.6%), are fine at 70p a pint and a glass of wine or Cava £1.00.

The food is equally cheap – 3 course Chinese with a glass of wine for a heady £5.

We are staying in the apartment we had in February, and that is where “The 89 Steps” comes in.

The resort appears to built around the sides of a bomb crater with the swimming pool at the bottom.

To get from our apartment to the reception and main entrance/exit we have to trudge down then up 89 steps! 

Fortunately we have to walk past the bar at around 30 steps and there is also a back entrance/exit which only requires a mere 49 steps!

We have also found a new "Local".

Just before we flew out the sad news broke of the death of Warren Mitchell. Although an accomplished actor he was best known for his portrayal of Alf Garnett in the BBC sitcom "In Sickness and in Health", appearing in more than 50 episodes until the programme ended in 1975.

Unlike Hammers fan Alf Garnett, he was a live long Tottenham Hotspur fan and I'll leave you with this clip of Alf at the 1966 World Cup final:

RIP Warren Mitchell.

Could Have Tried Harder

The Rushmoor in Bloom Awards night once again passed us by as we were sunning ourselves in warmer climes.

So there is no photo of me with the Mayor again but the obligatory “Could have tried harder” Silver Gilt Award certificate was waiting on the door mat on our return.

There are 12 allotment sites in Aldershot and Farnborough with over 400 plots all of which are judged and this year only 8 Gold’s and 21 Silver Gilts were awarded.

As you are all aware, I didn’t get where I am by blowing my own trumpet, but considering the limited amount of time I seem to have available these days, a Silver Gilt was, if I say it myself, a pretty good effort.

On top of that we were one of the runners up in The Best Kept Caravan Awards and received “a nice little earner”!

As usual on Sunday I tuned in to Radio 4 to listen to Desert Island discs. The castaway was Keith Richard and I was pleasantly surprised how interesting and amusing he was - well worth a listen:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b06kb0fw#play

53 years and still going strong, here's an early Rolling Stones track:

Hey Ho!

A Pub was a Pub is a Gastro Pub – Part 3

As you are well aware I didn’t get where I am today by being a fan of restaurants disguised as pubs.

I’m not against some food being served in a pub if it is away from the main business of the establishment – the serving beer and drinking of beer.

But more and more pubs are describing themselves as Gastro Pubs.

Gastro Pub?

It sounds like something you'd want to get surgically removed from your small intestine but in fact, according to the Oxford English dictionary the definition of gastropub is:

                    A pub that specialises in serving high-quality food.

In other words small portions of over-priced poncy food served on a wooden board accompanied by a grey roof slate covered with strange leaves and seven dots of slimy green sauce which make you want to ask whether the chef has a cold!

And why does adding a honey-glazed sauce on a beefburger turn it into a “gourmet” burger? 

It’s a bloody beefburger for Gods sake!

Also I don’t need need to know that the chips have been cut by hand or what kind of potato they are made of – they’re just chips!

And finally, if I was drunk enough to order a goat’s cheese salad I’m not bloody interested in what kind of breed and what exotic country the goats came from!

I came across this on the wall of the Gents toilet in the Park Tavern , Chichester.

Here is the author, Anthony Bourdain, a.k.a. bad-ass chef and TV personality, host of the Travel Channel show “No Reservations” and one of the best shows that the Food Network had, “A Cook’s Tour” reading the full passage from his book, "The Nasty Bits".

Sadly more and more so called pubs are climbing on the gastro pub band wagon and true drinking establishments are rapidly disappearing.

All very depressing and on that note I'm off to The Lifeboat in Selsey Bill for a couple of well deserved pints!

Hey Ho!

You're the Devil in Disguise

Called into a bar in Paphos last night and bumped into Elvis.

Me:  "Talk of the devil, hello Elvis."

Elvis: "Well hello there Sir".

Me: "Tell me do you ever perform in the Uk?"

Elvis: "Yes Sir, all the time."

Me: "Have you ever played in Farnborough, HampSHIRE?"

Elvis: "Yes Sir, one time, I think, about 10 years ago"

Me: "Was it in a restaurant?"

Elvis: "Yes Sir, it was an Indian restaurant!"

Bugger me! 

A group of us were in Saffrons Indian, Farnborough, ten years ago for a surprise 40th birthday for the Young Allotmenteer's partner Lorraine and Elvis Shmelvis was performing his cabaret show - and what a great night we had.

On Saturday he's performing in Pambis Bar next to where we are staying and we'll definitelybe there!

Here he is at the Britannia Bar last night:

Hey Ho!

Dead girls tell no tales

60 years today at 7.15pm on 22^nd September 1955 commercial television was launched in the UK.

However in turned out to be a bit of a damp squibb because at 7.00pm on 22^nd September 1955 millions of people were in fact gathered around the radio, tuned into the BBC Home Service, in a state of shock having just learnt the fate of Grace Archer, who had run into the burning stables at Grey Gables to rescue her precious horse Midnight, hotly pursued by her husband Phil.

Here are the closing lines:

For 60 years, the actress at the heart of The Archers’ most dramatic storyline has kept her counsel.

Ysanne Churchman played Grace Archer, whose death in a stable fire on September 22 1955 so shocked the nation that the BBC switchboard was jammed for 48 hours and the corporation had to put out a statement pleading with listeners to stop sending in wreaths.

Asked afterwards why her character had been killed off, Churchman would only answer: “Dead girls tell no tales.”

Now she has broken her silence to reveal that she was written out as punishment by the show’s creator, Godfrey Baseley known a "God" by the cast, for demanding a pay rise in line with her male colleagues.

“So that was how it happened and how I, or rather Grace, came to die: victimisation because I had been to Equity to get my fees put right,” said Churchman, now 90.

“For me, for The Archers, for so many listeners even today, the sensation of Grace’s death, the claims and counter-claims, the myth-making, mean that she has never really died. A good story never does.

“The legend of Grace will live on and I must say I really feel quite proud to have been part of it.”

Churchman was speaking after the broadcast of a Radio 4 play, "Dead Girls Tell No Tales", in which the BBC finally admitted to the reason behind Grace's exit.

Based on the recollections of the actress and other cast members, it claimed that Baseley branded Churchman “a troublemaker” and an “agitator” for demanding equal pay, and that he had previously banished her character to Ireland for a year to “teach her a lesson”.

If you’ve got a spare hour, here’s "Dead Girls Tell No Tales":

http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b06bcv9s

So the launch of ITV was somewhat eclipsed by the BEEB and instead of being entertained by adverts like these the country was in mourning!

Ironically, following her dismissal from the Archers Ysanne Churchman started working for ITV doing voice overs and later returning to the Archers to play five other characters over a period of 30 years.

In his mail today ITV chairman, Archie Norman, will find a postcard that reads:

“Congratulations, Grace Archer.” 

Hey Ho!

It's only words ..............

If your bezzy is a tweep, playing Scrabble against them might get you schvitzing now that the Collins Scrabble Word List has been expanded to include lotsa new words many of which are so ridic they'll make you lolz!

Shock horror - your favourite board game has recently been updated with an additional 6,500 words, including some formerly limited to social media and technology.

The Collins Scrabble Word List is used by international tournament players. It includes more than 276,000 words from Australia, Canada, New Zealand, South Africa, Britain and the United States.

Its new list was "influenced by all parts of life including social media, slang, technology and food, plus English from around the world," Collins Dictionary said in a statement.

The World English-Language Scrabble Players Association is going to officially adopt the new wordlist this month after professional players get some time to study and get comfortable with words like "ridic" and "lolz," according to Collins.

And just in case you have any plans on fighting for the £5000 prize at the 2015 World Scrabble Championship in Australia this November, here's a list of some of the most surprising new words you can use to your advantage:

AUGH -  interjection expressing frustration (11 points)

BEZZY -  best friend (18 points) 

BLECH -  interjection expressing disgust (12 points)

CAKEHOLE -  mouth (17 points)

CAZH -  casual (18 points)

CHECKBOX -  small clickable box on a computer screen (28 points)

COQUI -  type of tree-dwelling frog (16 points)

DENCH -  excellent (11 points)

DEVO -  short for devolution (18 points)

EEW -  exclamation of disgust (6 points)

EMOJI -  digital icon used in electronic communication (14 points)

FACETIME -  talk with (someone) via the FaceTime application (15 points)

GEOCACHE -  search for hidden containers using GPS as a recreational activity (16 points)

GRR -  interjection expressing anger or annoyance (4 points)

HACTIVIST -  person who hacks computer systems for political reasons (22 points)

HASHTAG -  a word or phrase preceded by a hashmark on Twitter, used to denote the topic of a post  (14 points)

IXNAY -  no  (15 points)

LOLZ -  laughs at someone else’s or one’s own expense (13 points)

LOTSA -  lots of (5 points)

NEWB-  newbie (9 points)

OBVS -  obviously (9 points)

ONESIE -  one-piece garment combining a top with trousers (6 points)

PACKZI -  round, filled doughnut (23 points)

PODIUMED -  to finish in the top three places in a sporting competition (14 points)

QUINZHEE -  shelter made from hollowed-out snow (29 points)

RIDIC - ridiculous (8 points)

SCHVITZ -  to sweat (24 points)

SEXTING -  practice of sending sexually explicit text messages (15 points)

SHIZZLE -  a form of US rap slang (18 points)

SHOOTIE -  type of shoe that covers the ankle (10 points)

THANX -  thank you  (15 points)

TUNAGE -  music (8 points)

TWEEP -  person who uses Twitter (10 points)

VAPE -  to inhale nicotine vapor (from an electronic cigarette)  (9 points)

WAHH -  interjection used to express wailing (10 points)

YEESH -  interjection used to express frustration  (11 points)

WARBOT - any robot or unmanned vehicle or device designed for and used in warfare (11 points)

WUZ - was (15 points)

and finally, taking the biscuit:

PWN - to conquer or to gain ownership (8 points)

Apparently resulting from a common mistyping of "Own" as a result of the proximity of the letter P to the letter O on a keyboard.

GOOD GRIEF - What is happening to our English language!

Follow this link to check to see how well you know the new words:

http://blog.oxforddictionaries.com/2015/08/quiz-new-words/

The times are certainly changing!

Hey Ho!

Good Morning 69!

On September 13th 1946 a baby Baltzer reluctantly popped out its head exclaiming “Just give me five minutes more!” which not only happened to be number one in the Billboard charts at the time but also went on to become the story of his life!

Sixty nine years later, here we are celebrating my birthday in the peace, tranquillity and sunshine of the Eastern Algarve, reflecting on how lucky we are to be in such a wonderful apartment in what is for us the perfect retreat.

We have no particular plans for the day – it will just happen but I expect it will involve the odd beer, a boat trip, some fish and some barbecued chicken!

My father was always telling me to "Grow up boy and act your age". Perhaps one day I will!

And anyway I was fed up of being 68!

1946 has a got a lot to answer for - 1969 was a good year as well:



Hey Ho!

Out for 89

August is the month of the annual Selsey festival, now in its 13th year.

Preceded by the Selsey Lifeboat week which culminates with the annual raft race at Selsey Bill and evening firework display, the festival is a showcase of the talent, skill and enthusiasm of the people of Selsey with a full programme of varied and diverse events for all ages, including cinema, stage, sports, music, arts and crafts, classic car show and finishing in traditional fashion with the carnival procession and grand firework display.

Two weeks ago I visited the Selsey Camera Club Annual Exhibition and amongst the many fine photographs on display was a dramatic series of shots of the Lifeboat week firework display held on the end of the lifeboat station.

Saturday was the day of the Manhood Classic Car Enthusiasts Summer Show and, as always, a fine selection of vehicles were on display including this replica Ferrari 166 Corsa Spyder with a Triumph Spitfire chassis and 1500 cc engine.

 

But for me the highlight of the festival is the Sir Patrick Moore exhibition, located within the Selsey Cricket Club Pavilion.

The exhibition recreates Sir Patricks study at his home "Farthings" and includes includes original memorabilia, books and pictures owned by Sir Patrick relating to his many years involvement as a keen, exuberant and valued member of Selsey Cricket Club.

The exhibition is open to the Public every day in August 10:00 am till 4:00 pm, admittance free. 

The Sir Patrick Moore Pavilion, 
The Recreation Ground, 
Paddock Lane, 
Selsey, 
West Sussex, 
PO20 9BB

Enquiries to: 
Mike Nicholls mdnicholls@mac.com

Also available is a publication “Out for 89”, a collection of memories and anecdotes of Sir Patricks life in Selsey.

The following excerpt describes Patricks arrival at Selsey in 1968: 

On 29th June 1968, at the wheel of his trusty Ark, Patrick Moore, age 45, and his mother Gertrude, 
arrived in Selsey, where they would live for the rest of their lives. 

Born in Pinner, Middlesex on 4th March 1923, Patrick spent his early childhood in Bognor Regis, then East Grinstead where he remained for thirty-six years. 

Following a short time in Northern Ireland where he established a new planetarium at Armagh Observatory, he set off on a house-hunting trip. He had always wanted to live in Selsey and to his delight, found Farthings a lovely old house in the heart of the village. Although thatched, old and in disrepair after being empty for some years, he fell in love with it and bought it. 

In his autobiography Patrick writes: “It was a colossal financial gamble because I had no reserves, but we decided to take the risk.” 

After the purchase his bank balance stood at half a crown! 

Extract from “Out for 89” 

One of the first things Patrick did after moving in to Farthings was to write a letter to Selsey Cricket Club asking to join and play.

Patrick described himself as:

"A poor catch, a poor throw, a poor stop, as slow as a house and never batting away from number 11 ".

However he was a keen leg break bowler and very proud of his kangaroo hop and cartwheel action which was once likened to that of a wallaby doing a barn dance.

In the days before the pavilion was built many committee meetings and AGM’s were held in the study of Farthings. Patrick served the cricket club for over 30 years first as a player and in his later years scorer, treasurer and Life Vice-President.

He was an intimidating figure to visiting teams when seated at the scorers table, monocle firmly in place, demanding to know the bowlers name.

He wholeheartedly encouraged the local youngsters to learn the game and get involved with club, financing many young members kit and even driving the Colts to Hove in the Ark for cricket training.

Internationally Renowned Astronomer, Author, Sky at Night Presenter, Accomplished Musician, Cat Lover and of course Intrepid Cricketer, the Exhibition seeks to be a reminder and tribute to the great man Sir Patrick Moore, much loved by the community of Selsey.

I’ll leave the final words on Sir Patrick Moore CBE FRS FRAS to his close friend Brian May:

"Patrick was the last of a lost generation, a true gentleman, the most generous in nature that I ever knew, and an inspiration to thousands in his personal life, and to millions through his 50 years of unique broadcasting. It's no exaggeration to say that Patrick, in his tireless and ebullient communication of the magic of astronomy, inspired every British astronomer, amateur and professional, for half a century. There will never be another Patrick Moore. But we were lucky enough to get one." 

Brian May, speaking shortly after Moore's death.

  

Hey Ho!

A Pub is a Pub was a Wine Bar – Part Two

Visitors to Britain's shores frequently comment that there is nothing quite like the English pub to be found anywhere else in the world. 

However, the great British pub actually started life as a great Italian wine bar, and dates back almost 2,000 years. It was an invading Roman army that brought Roman roads, Roman towns and Roman pubs known as tabernae to these shores in 43 AD. Such tabernae, or huts that sold wine, were quickly built alongside Roman roads and in towns to help quench the thirst of the legionaries.

Ale however was the native British brew, and it appears that these tabernae quickly adapted to provide the locals with their favourite tipple, and the word tabernae became adapted to tavern. With the gradual spread of the road network and horse-drawn coaches our roadside taverns were transformed into coaching inns. 

Such establishments even now preserving the archways which lead to former stables and courtyards behind. In market towns it was not uncommon for prosperous inns to add function rooms, and private rooms where business could be discussed away from the bustling town marketplace outside. And so it was that hostelries created a social role for themselves. 

Strictly speaking, inns provided rooms for travellers, taverns provided food and drink, while alehouses simply sold beer.  The native British brew of ‘ale’ was originally made without hops. Ale brewed with hops was gradually introduced in the 14th and 15th centuries and this was known as beer. By 1550 most brewing included hops and the expression alehouse and beerhouse became synonymous. 

As I have already mentioned the introduction of The Duke of Wellington’s Beer Act in 1830 created a stampede for the new licences and over 20,000 Beer Houses suddenly appeared up and down the country. Within six years there were 46,000 beer shops or beer houses in the country. The opening hours could be from 4am to 10pm and many were shops and private dwellings selling beer in one room of their shop or house.


Beerhouses were also known by the name ''small beer' or 'Tom and Jerry' shops.

Since most of the population were illiterate it was quite common for each establishment to display a simplistic sign which depicted the name of the premise.

Many were named after the Duke of Wellington in celebration of his relaxing of the licensing laws.

The Wine and Beer House Act of 1869 and the licensing Acts of 1872, 1904 and 1910 brought back tighter controls on licensing and many beerhouses closed. Many of those that remained had already been bought by breweries and eventually evolved into Public Houses. Interestingly, under the 1872 Act which remains in force today, it is still illegal to be drunk in charge of a horse, a cow or a steam engine, with a possible penalty of a £200 fine or 51 weeks in prison.

My local, The Fox, in common with many public house throughout the country, was originally a pair of 19th century cottages, became one dwelling and a shop in 1859, then a shop/beer house before being taken over by a brewery in 1865.

The popularity of the British pub is down to its character and unique atmosphere, brilliantly described here in BOAK AND BAILEY’S BEER BLOG: THE ALCHEMY OF PUB ATMOSPHERE

For us, the pubs with the best atmosphere sit in a sweet spot between characterful and grotty. Some pubs are so clean, so perfumed, varnished, polished and ‘on-brand’ that they start to feel they’re made of plastic. Others (often, sadly, some of those with the greatest commitment to decent beer) have torn carpets, ripped seats, grimy walls and smell like stables. The pubs we’ve enjoyed most in the last year or so have been clean without being buffed to a shine. They’ve been lived-in but not soiled. They’ve shown evidence of being run by a human being — hand-written signs, personal mementoes– rather than by a Regional Quality and Brand Manager.

Robert Rankine in his Brentford trilogy novels includes a wonderful passage describing exactly how a pub should be:

"Not one hundred yards due North of Norman's shop, as fair flies the griffin, there stands a public house which is the very hub of the Brentonian universe. Solidly constructed of old London stocks and fondly embellished with all the Victorian twiddly bits, The Flying Swan gallantly withstood the slings and arrows of outrageous brewery management. Its’ patrons have never known the horrors of fizzy beer or pub grub that comes 'a-la-basket'. The Swan had grown old gracefully. The etched glass windows, tinted with nicotine and the exhalations of a million beery breaths, sustained that quality of light exclusive to elderly pubs. The burnished brass of the beer engines shone like gold and the bar top glowed with a deep patina. The heady perfumes of Brasso and beeswax blended with those of hops and barley, grape and grain to produce an enchanting fragrance all of its own. Only a man born without a soul would not pause a moment upon entering The Swan for the first time, breathe in the air, savour the atmosphere and say, 'This is a pub'. But of course, for all its ambience, redolence and Ridley Scottery, a pub is only as good as the beer it serves. And here it must be said that those on offer were of such a toothsome relish, so satisfying in body and flavour as might reasonably elicit bouts of incredulous head-shaking and murmurs of disbelief from the reader. Nevertheless the eight hand-drawn ales available were of a quality capable of raising eulogies from seasoned drinkers, their bar-side converse long hag-ridden by clichés of how much better beer tasted in the good old days."

Robert Rankine - The Sprouts of Wrath

Pubs have come a long way since they were “a house open to the public”. In my view much too far.

These Oxford Dictionary definitions are somewhat outdated: 

Pub

An establishment for the sale of beer and other drinks, and sometimes also food, to be consumed on the premises.

Restaurant

A place where people pay to sit and eat meals that are cooked and served on the premises.

Sadly the boundaries of a pub and a restaurant have all but disappeared.

No one objects to the pub serving simple traditional food, in fact as I have mentioned before, when I first entered the Fox, more than 40 years ago, food was served and there was a choice. As I was quick to point out to two young upwardly mobile Greene King representatives who had grand plans to turn The Fox into one of their “Meet and Eat” establishments, The Fox has always had a food menu:

And that, IMHO, is all that is necessary for a pub serve - apart from beer of course!

To Be Continued.

I'll leave you with this, the latest offering from Scott Bradlee and his Post Modern Jukebox:



God that girl can sing!