Wait until next year

This week Boak and Bailey have been posting briefer, daily posts, like how most of Beer Blogging (including their site!) mainly functioned a decade ago. It is has been a lot of fun to have something to read every day, for there to be different kinds of things looked at from different angles, and to see something more provisional – to be reminded that blogging works really well as a means of thinking aloud rather than coming to conclusions.

The latter point is why blogging in the past was so conversational and alive at times – if thoughts weren’t finished they encouraged comments, blog posts as replies, follow-up posts. There is something kind of special around seeing ideas form in real-time, of seeing orthodoxies challenged, new theories emerge.

As much as I enjoy a good bit of social media, I do think it’s growth killed off a lot of this kind of thing in the blogging world. Why throw up a quick post when you can just immediately fire off a sentence or two and get a much bigger response? So, I really appreciate Boak and Bailey trying to reclaim some of that – there is definitely a middle space to be explored between the immediacy of social media and the more considered longform writing in blogging, or wherever else.

So, in the spirit of it all, I thought I would attempt some brief responses to each of their posts this week. If I enjoy the conversation I should probably contribute to it!

Lost & Grounded’s not-a-rebrand – “the designs themselves are much simpler and bolder, with one strong rainbow shade per can in most cases. This makes sense when you think about the need to compete on supermarket shelves, and to be more instantly recognisable.”

I’ve noticed a fair few rebrands lately. I definitely think there is something in there about making sure your brand sticks out, whether that’s on a pump clip, keg badge or supermarket shelf. And then, making sure each of your different offerings stand out within that. I think it is a really encouraging sign that breweries are taking branding more seriously.

If you want repeat business you need to be instantly recognisable. It is also a big leap from multiple companies borrowing the look of other breweries – there were definitely far too many Beavertown rip-offs for a while.

As much as notions of brand can feel like nebulous, corporate bullshit when brand is considered properly it is the most immediate way a company can articulate its identity. And the strength of independent beer, to a great extent, comes in communicating that identity, both in look and taste.

The Sceptre Tavern hermit crabbing in the shell of BrewDog Bristol – “it feels weirdly like being back in 2008, and we rather enjoyed ordering Paulaner wheat beer and Sierra Nevada Pale Ale as if we were in our twenties again”

All those empty Brewdog bars definitely feel more like an opportunity than a tragedy – a blank canvas for someone to do something interesting.

I have a real nostalgia for those early craft beer days and how much of it was about going to pubs where you could drink beer from around the world. The localness of modern beer is great too, but it feels like a very different thing. I think there’s room for a return to the internationalism of the past – to both revisit the source material that influenced the beer we drink today and to get a feel for where it might go next. Pubs and brewing could be less parochial, I think.

The high cost of having fun and the lack of fun places – “A surcharge to sit in the snug?”

I might just copy by reply I posted beneath this post:

Didn’t there used to be different pricing for saloon and public bars? I could absolutely see something like that returning, where you pay a premium for sitting in a nicer place, or getting table service. I’ve seen Spoons sometimes have offers that are only available at the bar not the app (and maybe vice versa), so I think there is already some nudging activity going on here and there. I guess happy hours are the same kind of thing, just in reverse?

And in addition:

I’m not sure this is a good thing. It might already happen between pubs (we all know a pub that’s expensive but we go there because it is nice and a pub that’s rough but cheap) but having it within a pub doesn’t necessarily feel right, feels like a swindle, a grift, unless labelled and managed really clearly. Pubs thrive on equity, not on division.

What does Helles taste like? – “Helles is about drinkability. It’s soft but not mushy. And it’s built around malt, which can be harder to grasp than hops.”

I might just say “How the Helle would I know?” and get my coat.

Why don’t people feel like mugs drinking ‘French’ beer from Northampton? – “The thing that baffles us – we’re feeling freshly baffled by it this morning – is that so few people, even when they do know, seem to care.”

Just as much as breweries have identities, so do drinkers.

Real ale drinkers often identify themselves in opposition to Big Corporate Beer, and align themselves with locality, small c-craft and tradition.

Craft beer drinkers often identify themselves as being open to new things, to going beyond the norm, to enjoying something that a little cult, a little unknown.

And I think your “normal” drinker identifies themselves as someone who likes a pint, knows what pint they like, but aren’t going to worry about all the other stuff that surrounds it. It doesn’t mean they don’t care – I’ve seen Carling or Madri drinkers show far more passion about their choice of drink than any real ale aficionado or craft beer geek, especially when it isn’t available.

Yet their choice isn’t a moral, political, philosophical or social one. They choose their beer because of how it tastes, how strong (or weak) it is, and maybe out of habit. It is a very different mindset. Not a bad one necessarily, just different.

Maybe more honest, even? A “normal” lager drinker is far less willing to chew their way through something they don’t enjoy than a real ale or craft beer drinker.

June 26, 2026

Pub Thoughts #14 (Sport at the Spoons)

A corner of a Wetherspoons pub. A TV showing football is mounted high up on the wall. There is bright white light fitting hanging from the ceiling. Pump clips are on the wall.

Several years ago I came to the realisation that I really don’t enjoy watching football in pubs. There might be a good atmosphere, but there is every chance there won’t be…especially if the game isn’t going the right way. I’m not a huge fan of football commentary but I would still prefer to hear the analysis of professionals rather the addled and misinformed musings of a pub bore behind me. I’d prefer not to crane my neck trying not to miss a key moment. I’d rather not miss swathes of the game entirely because I’m at the bar or trying to get in the loos. I’m just not sure that watching sport in a pub, as popular as it is, actually works.

And yet…the other day I found myself needing to get myself some tea, I fancied a drink after a day in a warm office followed by a hotter commute, and realised there was a World Cup game on I would quite like to watch. So, I headed to the local Spoons as it ticked all the relevant boxes.

I remember a time when Wetherspoons didn’t have TVs, prided themselves on not having them. But they are here now. This particular Spoons usually has CBeebies playing in the more family-oriented end – a really smart call, in my book. And across the rest of the pub usually has BBC News on, just to add a little more depression and desperation to your Wetherspoons Experience. But when there is a major sporting event on terrestrial television, like the World Cup, they stick it on.

And it worked! There is table service through the app so you don’t have to worry about a scrum at the bar – as much as there are mixed views about table service in pubs, it works brilliantly when the football is on. Much better having a few staff move about than the whole pub, and getting everyone on a table so they have somewhere to be served. No more tactical dives for a pint during a break in play or rushing to the bar at half-time.

The TV was silenced so it didn’t dominate. Pub bores (if there were any) didn’t need to shout over the telly, so we were spared hearing their insights. You could watch it if you wanted, but ignore it if you didn’t.

I think the inherent facelessness and impersonal nature of Wetherspoons is sometimes its downfall, but in situations like this is its greatest strength. A place where you can do what you want, not be disturbed and have food and drink brought to your table promptly and professionally. A place to watch football, a place to completely ignore it.

It wasn’t your usual football crowd either, and all the better for it. Couples having an early dinner. Families sat surrounded by shopping bags, resting their legs after a bit of a spree. Teens gathered furtively in a booth. Young lads in Adidas and gold chains sipping their Stella, politely. An old woman sat on her own without food and drink watching videos on her phone. I wish she had headphones, though.

Of course it helped that it wasn’t an England game, I think that might be a step too far, but it was a nice surprise to find the whole experience to be far better than I expected. I wasn’t just not overly annoyed or frustrated by it all but actually really enjoyed it.

2 Comments

June 5, 2026

Pub Thoughts #13 (Tamworth Tap)

Interior of the Tamworth Tap, there are hops and fairy lights hanging from the ceiling, lots of old Belgian beer ads on the walls and wooden pews as seating

The Tamworth Tap is a three-time CAMRA National Pub of the Year. I felt a degree of trepidation before entering. There’s always a worry with anything so acclaimed that it might not live up to its billing, might be a disappointment, might be something I just don’t get.

I get this feeling with books, films, TV, as well as pubs. I don’t think it is quite inverted snobbery, a sense that if something is popular it can’t be good. More, I think it is a feeling that perhaps my tastes might not be calibrated with those who have brought forth the praise. And this is even more keenly felt with anything CAMRA. It is a good organisation, doing good things, but sometimes the pubs its members value can be…odd choices. Other times they get it spot-on, but there is no guarantee. I have spent a few afternoons collared by a CAMRA Man telling me their pub philosophy and their views have rarely matched mine.

So, trepidation, hesitation, doubt.

The backbar of the Tamworth Tap. There are a wide variety of spirits on the shelves and retro illuminated sign saying "Off Licence - WINES & SPIRITS"

I need not have worried. The Tamworth Tap is wonderful, majestic even. It is a validation of whatever process CAMRA undertake when choosing their pub of the year. It’s as good as a pub could be. It’s one of those places where you just keep ticking off your list of what would be in your dream pub.

There are lots of nooks to tuck yourself into. Little booths created out of old pews. A bar as a beacon in the middle, with an old illuminated off licence sign guiding you to a thoughtful selection of cask, keg and spirits – a mix of modern, unusual and old classics. Old Belgian beer ads adorn a wall. Pub memorabilia is dotted about to pique your interest or trigger your nostalgia. Hops and fairy lights hang off the ceiling to soften the corners. Even the music is perfect, a great selection at a volume that’s the ultimate sweet spot – where it masks the chat of others but isn’t so loud that you can’t be heard yourself. Everything adds to a feeling of welcome, cosiness, a home from home.

Frickles (fried pickles) and a pint of beer on a wooden pub table

And then the food! Not just a textbook selection of weird and wonderful crisps (Grouse and Whinberry, anyone?), but also rolls at the bar and freshly cooked snacks from the kitchen out back, essentially pub tapas without any of the pretension that phrase might suggest, something to keep you going but nothing to fill you up, including “frickles” – fried pickles that might just be the perfect accompaniment to a pint.

And then there’s the people. The staff are friendly, helpful, well-informed but not overbearing. The patrons are mixed – not always a given in a place like this. Old boys, solo drinkers, families, a good balance of male and female It is not overrun by Beer Tourists (apart from, of course, myself) and all the better for it. This is somewhere that is lived in, frequented, nurtured, supported, a real living pub rather than an exhibit of pub-ness.

There’s even a display above the door showing the next train times from Tamworth, for if you decide that perhaps its a little too hasty to start a new life here and that you better get home at some point.

One of the greats.

4 Comments

May 29, 2026

Pub Thoughts #12 (The King Billy, Nottingham)

The exterior of the King Billy pub. A sign hangs off the wall with a picture of a goat.

The World’s Greatest Pub Blogger, RetiredMartin, will occasionally consider a pub one of his Top 100. This place, The King Billy, is one of them. And rightly so. It is unlikely I will ever visit as many pubs as Martin, and will certainly never reach his levels of Pub Expertise, but this pub is definitely in my top 100 too. And probably quite high in that list too. It’s a magical pub.

Sometimes you enter a pub and right away know that it just works. It is cosy, almost a little too cosy for comfort, but that gives it this immediate sense of hubbub and homeliness and place. There are different spaces, each with a slightly different feel, yet all part of a whole.

A row of empty chairs in a pub, lined up against a wall. There are old pictures of landscapes on the wall. In the distance is a strange doll with a little stuffed bear

There’s a bar in the middle that feels a little like a cockpit, serving each space and orchestrating the pub-ness, driving it even, a centrifugal force that influences the whole interior, that doesn’t just hand out the drinks but sets the tone, the feel, the fun.

All good pubs feel like someone’s living room. A public house, public home. The King Billy feels like the living room of someone’s particularly barmy aunt, and I mean that as the highest praise. The walls are covered in old paintings. Toby jugs line a wall. Knick knacks abound. A framed advert of a local visit from Su Pollard. A slightly creepy doll training a stuffed bear. A tartan carpet, a means of ensuring that even the floor isn’t plain. Detail, texture, stuff, everywhere.

A framed advert announcing Su Pollard is making an appearance at Sneinton Market. It looks quite old.

The Cup Final is on but there is enough entertainment in just scanning the walls. You can look around and piece together a whole history.

A man drinks from a pewter jug, another good sign. I love pubs where the regulars have their own receptacles. There’s scattered chat about the game, differences of opinion sportingly accepted. A man yells “Get that flag up!” Couples chat with half an eye on the telly. A man on his own spreads out a set of postcards on his table, takes a photo of them. Soon it’s half-time.

There’s a tremendous selection of cask and keg, and a just as good a selection of snacks. Life is good with a well-kept pint and a packet of honey mustard pretzel pieces. It’s a good place to stop after wandering around Nottingham’s trendy Sneinton Market. Catch your breath. Plan your next move.

Like all good pubs you can make it whatever you want it to be, but I think it is probably at its best with a quick pint on your own on a Saturday afternoon, with a bit of people-watching, a bit of football-watching and a bit of pub-watching.

Top 100, easily.

2 Comments

May 22, 2026

Pub Thoughts #11 (Bleary-eyed notes from a weekend in Nottingham)

Interior of Brew Tavern, Nottingham. White wooden-slatted walls adorned with a Bass mirror and various old metal beer adverts

A fantastic weekend in Nottingham with friends – visited lots of pubs and bars and got at least some kind of sense of the kind of Beer City that Nottingham might be. At least in terms of the city centre I would say it felt like one side was very craft-y while the other was Mega Booze Dome-esque. There were a few good traditional pubs, but it didn’t feel like there were loads of them – and even the ones that were there seemed to offer far more that the usual trad fare.

I carried around a notebook with the intention of taking some notes, making some observations and generally having something to remember the weekend by. I’m not sure how successful I was – in reality I wanted to spend more time chatting and taking everything in rather than scribbling away in a corner.

First stop was the Brew Tavern, right by the station. There was a time when station pubs were almost universally bleak, depressing places. The kind of pubs people went to out of necessity or desperation, not choice. Now, there are plenty of great places to drink either before or after a train journey. This place is a converted cabman’s hut, and I’d love to see more pubs in disused railway architecture. It really ties the whole experience together and adds some character and soul. I went for a pint of Bass, as is obligatory for any beer blogger visiting the Midlands. It was excellent. A lad came in and downed an £11 pint of very strong craft. A group of old boys gathered before the football. A bloke on his own commented on the music, “A bit repetitive!” The track was skipped, to something equally repetitive.

Kilpin Beer Café was lovely. Spacious without feeling cavernous. Clean without feeling sterile. Some good continental beer. A really relaxed atmosphere, just the sort of place you could go to with anyone, a good spot to pop into while shopping, or after work.

Interior of Six Barrels, Nottingham. Two men stood at the bar, there are two screens above highlighting beer choices

Six Barrel Drafthouse, while pretty craft-inclined, felt like a proper boozer, a bit rough around the edges in a good way – lived in, well-used and clearly well-loved. It had a really nice feel to the place – a genuine mix of people and a sense that everyone is welcome.

The Tap Room was one of those places where you pour your own beer and then settle up at the end. I love the idea in theory – you can give lots of things a try, you don’t need to commit to pints, you might try something new, there’s no need to wait to be served. In practice I found it all a little stressful. A lively pint isn’t great when the little screen is showing how much you’ve spent on a glass of froth. Even just seeing how much your beer costs as your bill goes up in real-time isn’t exactly…fun. But it was a classy space with friendly service before and after I struggled with the taps.

Interior of the Tap House, Nottingham. A wall of self-service beer taps along a wall, each with a small screen above

Angel Microbrewery had some good beer on and I think worked as a multi-room pub, although was a little unfathomable – one room was absolutely rammed, while another big space upstairs was entirely empty. The kind of place I couldn’t quite get a handle on.

Neon Raptor’s taproom was very much in keeping with a lot of modern taprooms, stripped back aesthetic, hipster-y vibes, but their beer is great, it all felt very relaxed and there was plenty of room to sit or stand outside. It looks like they are moving to a bigger venue soon and I hope they can keep the feel of the current venue.

Interior of Some Where, Beeston. There is a beer fridge, a comfy sofa and a window painted green with the window sill covers in plants.

Somewhere Beerhouse in the suburb of Beeston is a bit of a hidden gem (the town of Beeston is a bit of a hidden gem too, but that’s another story for another time). Somewhere is more a micro-craft-bar than micropub but manages to successfully juggle being funky and cosy at the same time. There was a really interesting and unusual selection of beer on draft, can and bottle and was the kind of place I would happily lose an afternoon in. Really friendly and patient service too.

Barrel Drop is a micropub tucked away on a backstreet back in the city centre and manages to feel like a proper city centre pub despite its size. I really liked the barrels behind the bar converted into draft tap holders, glass holders, somewhere to keep the bar snacks etc. A good range of craft too, including plenty of stuff I hadn’t seen elsewhere.

Interior of Barrel Drop, Nottingham. A view of the back bar, where old barrels have been converted to house various keg taps, to keep glasses and store snacks

A few doors down from Barrel Drop, 400 Rabbits is a cocktail bar and I thought the cocktails were of high quality, a good mix (excuse the pun) of classics and less familiar recipes and were incredible value for money. Any bar with lucha libre decorations works for me too. A cool bar to spend a little time.

Junkyard is next door to the Kilpin and they seem to…maybe be the same place? They certainly appeared to share a garden and staff. Junkyard is less airy and open that Kilpin, more the kind of sparsely decorated, dark and busy craft bar that seemed to be very popular with younger drinkers, but was a bit crammed and noisy for an old fart like me.

So, that’s as much sense as I can get from my notes and my memory. I think Nottingham is an underrated beer destination. There are loads of different bars, a really good selection of beer, a really good atmosphere and a notable mix of ages out and about. Oh, and there’s also the magnificence of the King Billy, but I think that warrants a whole post of its own…