Twelve reasons why I love beer

Spending an hour or two in a pub with ex-pat friends; fat chewed, micky taken, gossip shared, frothy pints providing the perfect social lubricant

Sitting in a snug, the cricket commentary on the radio just loud enough, the crossword just taxing enough, the peanuts just salty enough, the beer just bitter enough, this toper just content enough

A lazy boozy afternoon with workmates, visiting pubs and bars I’d never usually set foot in, proving that good drink can be found in unexpected places; Belgian ale, German lager, Somerset cider, English IPA

Scooping with the greatest reluctance; twenty beers to try in Derby’s Flowerpot, four pints downed, all the same beer – the pith and pine and smooth caramel of Thornbridge Seaforth

Mowing the lawns because a cold beer tastes even better when you’re watching robins bounding after insects over freshly cut grass

Deciding that the only thing better than drinking a bottle of West Coast USA hop-bomb IPA is to drink three in a row. Blind Pig, Pliny, Racer 5; fresh, fresh, fresh

Tripping around London and grazing my jaw as it dropped to the floor - the opulence of the Princess Louise, Holborn; the contemporary cool of the Cask, Pimlico; the voracity for quality keg in the Rake, Southwark

Discovering that, sometimes, just one bottle of beer can deliver all the flavour, aroma and bitterness that your palate asks for at the time. 330 millilitres of Brewdog 5AM Saint; my prescribed dosage for an evening’s hop satiation

Sharing a pint with a brewer who is contented and confident; those qualities being reflected in his beers

Drinking local, hoppy, fruity, pale-as-maiden-water beers by a city river in the patchy sun, slowly demolishing a chip butty slathered in melting butter

Standing on top of a maltings tower in Burton-upon-Trent, trying to imagine how the town must have looked in its glory days; riven with railways and belching, stinking, fascinating brewing

Drinking brewer’s homebrew; boiled in a saucepan, fermented in a water bottle, un-named, unknown ABV, no style prescribed - just beer. Just because. The only reason is just because.

There's my last twelve days. One post. Less is more.

Why twelve? Well, beer is My Life Story


  1. you probably wouldnt have seen much from the top of the tower in Burton in it's hay day - probably too much smog and fog ;op

    my 12 would have to include spending sunday afternoons in the pub with a handfull of people sharing special beers and putting the world to rights!

  2. No mention of simply the fun of getting pissed?

  3. Brilliant again.

    I like the sound of your last 12 days. Great trio of London pubs, all uniquely different. I'm totally with you on 5am Saint too - I've got some which was bottled a few weeks ago and it's magnificent. And Blind Pig, Pliny and Racer 5? That's a dream North Californian threesome (foursome, including you).

  4. Sounds like a good two weeks.

    "Mowing the lawns because a cold beer tastes even better when you’re watching robins bounding after insects over freshly cut grass"

    ... does make it sound like you live in a Stately home though! :P


  5. Funnily enough, when I want to enjoy getting pissed I drink wine.

    As for mowing the lawns, it's poetic license; shaving the moss may be more accurate. Although that sounds like a euphamism.