Where were you....?

Quite appropriate that I was drinking Old Groyne last night, as due to the amount of limping and mobility restriction I've had today, I seem to have pulled something in my Old Groin while bouncing off the walls in Fight Club down south. Hey ho. Just what my world needs, more injury. Lets hope it learns to relax again with no medical intervention required this time.

Linky

Remember what you were doing when JFK was shot? When Concorde, the WTC and Lady Di went splat? I do. At least, the last three, as I wasn't born for Lee Harvey's moment on the headlines. I also remember what I was doing when a small Scottish town and a fully loaded 747 had their moment, and that's what the BBC are obsessing about tonight. Quite funny really in an ironic, or possibly just stupid kind of way. I was actually getting ditched at the time by my then girlfriend (hello Diane). At least I was until I saw the news flash, and after that point she was really talking to herself as this propellerhead has far more important things to pay attention to than some doris who is going to be history as soon as her dad gets around to picking her up (no driving license in those days). Quite fortuitous actually; if she'd have left it another 14 hours, I'd have lashed out fifty quid on her christmas present, and I'd not have been able to ruin her big moment. Who says karma's not my mate?

Heh. With woman handling skills like that, no wonder I never got married ;o)

Search for a winter warmer

Back in the homelands, this is the time of the winter warmer. Seriously chunky beers. The CAMRA page for them is broken, so this is how Wiki describes them.

"Winter warmer is a traditional malty-sweet English Strong Ale that is brewed in the winter months. It is usually quite dark, but not as dark as a stout, with a big malt presence. Sometimes, winter warmer has a few spices, especially in the United States, and the average alcohol content by volume ranges from 6.0% to 8.0%."

Got that? Anyway's up, back home, you knew what time of year it was by what was happening in the pub. Adnams Old turned up? Must be the end of October. Adnams Tally Ho on (shudder)? Must be the end of November. So I've been up here around six years now, I must be able to find something proper here too, right? I found myself in the mood, packed up a bag containing the Combat Hobbit who by the way is living back in scouseland again due to the property fairy coming up good, but been back here looking after the G Boy, while I bounced off floors and got bruises in the badlands inside the M25, and headed into town to find myself a jolly winter warmer for my tastebuds.

How hard could that be?

Well, started off in the local Wethers. A good bet, by all accounts; during the recent beer festival, they had wildly different beer styles cramming the bar.

Not any more it would seem. Two pumps on the front bar hold Abbot, another two on the front bar hold Green King IPA. They've switched over to the christmas list, which basically means "any popular old shite to flog by the bucket to pissed up works christmas parties". Balls. Oh, and "amusingly differently marketed beer with a christmas name". Hmmmm. Not what the doctor ordered frankly.

Tried the "Rocking Ruodolph". It had flashing red lights on the pump clip. That has to mean it's good, right? Nope. Becks in a barrel. Totally devoid of character, more of a summer session beer quaffer than a wintery big beer with which to heat the evening. I aught to get in touch with trading standards.


So, JDW's failing to make the grade, I made best speed to the station to jump on the next free train to the coast. Actually, they're not free but as they start on the other side of the country and the guard's cashed up twenty minutes before reaching my freezing body, my money's pretty safe. Off at my favorate seaside station and onto the bar on the platform, where I encounter a notorious gentleman of my profession, and head to the bar where it's Cottage Breweries "Santas Steaming Ale". Actually a typical Cottage product. Earthy. Coffee'ish. Frankly they're all starting to taste the same to me. At least it's the right colour, but misses the mark for me. Lacks wallop. How hard can it be for the ale outlets of a town to bring me a proper Winter Warmer? Quite hard, it would appear.


In alcholism, rather than hope we make our way to a cashpoint, and thence onto the brewpub on the seafront; the one with the music too loud on a Saturday and the metal shiney modern styling which you'd think would be alien to the real ale world, but in this case you'd be as off the mark as JDW. Doesn't start well. "I'll have two pints of (some guest beer)". "It's just gone". Arse. Not what I was hoping to hear. But what's this? They've got not one, but two of their own brew's beerclips on? Not only the nice cheap three and a half percent session beer, but one of their seasonals? Six point two percent, not as dark and chewy as it could be, but to coin a phrase, "it'll do". So, beer of the night, Willy's "Old Groyne. Possibly not quite ready to be served, a little young, but in the abscence of Tally Ho and Old, a perfectly reasonable substitute.

Bounce

Me again. Been busy again. How very dull of me.

Does anyone else think that the time of the year when you've got the most to do is also the time of year when you've got the least time to do it in? Seems a tad unfair. And totally typical. No sooner did I recover from the lurgy to a degree when it was time to load up, pick up a works funbuggy - a brand new Laguna (niiiiiiice) - and head off deep south to the insides of the M25 and spend the week bouncing off the carpets, all in the name of getting my official "hurting people" permit back.

Now, it's a miracle to me that not only do I get this course for free, but they pay me for it, and they put me up in a nice hotel and pay for that as well. The amount of money that people pay for Boxaerobics, etc. Had to be at the local gym to start for seven in the morning , which is a bit ugly by most people's idea of a course, but it did mean that I got to miss the sort of rush hour you get towards the beautiful south, which is nobodies idea of fun. Also meant that I got to miss breakfast of course, which wasn't so jolly, but it was all very cosmopolitan for a change. Could have done without the corporate Christmas party on Thursday that invaded my hotel; young and drunken, aggressive, hyped up southern business types. Needed them like a aperture in the cranium. I can see a letter of complaint going in. Hell, why not. It's only a stamp, might even blag a freebie out of it. Join the national freeloading party, why not.

Here we go again

Here we are again folks; your scribe has been off work with the dreaded lurgy, and dreaded indeed it was. Most unpleasant. You'd think that'd leave me more time to sit here and belt my ramblings down onto the ether wires, but as it happens it left me with time only to sit on a sofa, watch daytime telly and retch. And who wants to read a page a night about that. Or indeed to write it. Not me, and not me in that order!

So... back at the ever popular factory of fun. Medical today, to confirm I'm fit for the sort of duty that nobody wants to undertake. The smokers have quadrupled their intake to make sure they fail the lung capacity test and everybody else has been standing downwind. The bad news? Even with lungs still full of flu, I pass with flying colours. What a guy. Damn.