Well, it was my birthday...

Last Friday I turned forty-smuffummuhhhh and was lucky enough to spend the day being driven around Derbyshire by Mrs Scoop in George, our little blue beer taxi. Early doors at Thornbridge to pick up a case of Tzara, their kolsch-ish beer that continues the lagery experimentations of Italia and Steelmaker.

Monsal Head saw the sun shine. And no tourists. Not surprising - it was November and chuffing freezing. But there was a bonus - the hotel's Stable bar was open for a cheeky pint of Buxton Moor Top. Paler than maiden's water with just enough pithy grapefruit for an almost-breakfast beer.

Luncheon was taken at the Packhorse Inn at Little Longstone. An open fire belching smoke across the bar every time the kitchen door opened and drew a breeze through the room. Lashings of Thornbridge Jaipur. And wild boar sausage - fattened on the Thornbridge estate just down the road from the pub.

A mad dash to Buxton Brewery to finally meet up with the owner, Geoff Quinn, and a quick looksie at how the place is developing at a rapid rate of knots. And then... an afternoon and evening that segued into major beerage. You know that feeling when you put good beer in the hands of good people and they do the double-take? When they have the 'ohh-whoh!" moment and you know you've just won another brother over to the cause of Drinking Great Beer? That :-)

I don't think my recycle bin has ever looked finer...

Many thanks to Summer Wine and Magic Rock for their superb beers and speedy delivery. And mucho thanko to Alex from Thornbridge, Geoff & JK from Buxton and Nate & Evin from The Kernel for their kind gifts that kept the party well-lubricated.

1 comment:

  1. Atta boy. I have lived near the North Atlantic enough of my years to know that lashings means nothing to do with a whip and everything to do with raincoats! Good man.