February Outline Magazine - The Owl Sanctuary

Pint Size for February's Outline Magazine is all about The Owl Sanctuary. A pub I have actually worked in (and spent more time than any other drinking in) was about to be shut down. The alternative community of Norwich rallied round, campaigned, raised money and ultimately saved their venue and their home from home. The story caused a lot of response across the country (I had friends as far as Cardiff tell me they'd heard of the imminent closure)
The soul of the Owl now has a new home (which I look forward to drinking in as soon as humanly possible).

My column is online (and in print of course) here.

Long live The Owl.

Beer, Networking and Unicorn tears

Anyone who knows me knows I hate networking. It feels like sales disguised as false social niceties. Both of these things I hate. If I have to go to a 'networking event' I do my utmost to be straightforward. "Hi I'm here from company X and we do Y. Does any of that interest you? No? Great, what do you think of the vol-au-vents?"

Last night I was asked if I wanted to attend the Norfolk Food & Drink Network's first networking event for my day job.

"I don't really like networking"
"Redwell brewery will be there and they're talking about brewing."
"OK, I might be interested."
"There's free beer."
"Why didn't you lead with that?!"

So off I went, with the apprentice (who doesn't drink) to schmooze and drink beer. One of these things is my favourite thing in the world. The apprentice politely refused free samples of beer while I made the most of mine. One of the founders of Redwell gave a talk about setting up the business and her background and the mistakes they made along the way (and of course the debacle with Redbull). I got to try unfiltered Steam Lager (which I actually preferred unfiltered), as well as the West Coast Pale Ale (which I don't think I've had the pleasure of before, but I will definitely keep an eye out for) and finally the Kofra Coffee Stout. I don't like stout and I don't really like coffee, but this I could drink. The burnt taste was subtle and not cloying and didn't make me feel as though I was drowning from the inside.

At the end of the talk one attendee was saying how he'd spent time in America and hadn't had a nicer beer in the whole of the States. I like Redwell beers, but even so. Was he just drinking Coors Light and PBR over there or something? (Actually I quite like PBR but that's another story.) Someone actually started talking about buying and recommending beer to go with certain types of food. It was clear I was a different kind of beer drinker than most in the room.

As is probably evident by the offhand and slightly gonzo nature of this blog, I know no more about beer than any other average beerlover. I couldn't tell you how different beers are made and I certainly can't taste grapefruit in anything. I like a decent pint in a decent pub and if something amusing happens on the way, then fantastic. I desperately wracked my brain for an interesting, non-networking question to ask at the end of all the talking and all I could think of was asking about Unicorn tears (see a previous blog where I visited the Redwell Brewery). No one else knew what I was talking about, apart from the people from Redwell of course, and they didn't feel the need to explain (making me feel smug, like the little anarchist beer-snob that I am). They said the brewery had a dedicated room on site, filled with crying unicorns. The image this conjured up made me very happy indeed.

I gave my Bullards gin sample to a friend (it did smell lovely but I draw the line at shots of neat gin), gave a few business cards out (boss will be happy) and went home, happy with an evening well spent. I might have to email Redwell asking for a tour of the miserable unicorn room though...

PSB is on twitter, if that's your bag, and sporadically on instagram. But drinking beer is always better than tweeting about it.

Pint-Size in Print - The Lord Rosebery

My latest Pint-Sized Blonde column is in January's Outline Magazine​. If you are not blessed enough to live in the Fine City of Norwich to pick up a copy, you can read it online here. It involves beef in handbags. No, seriously.

Brighton Bier Weekend

"Hey I've got tickets to see a chick sing in Brighton, want to come?"
"Er, sure, why the hell not?"

This tends to be how my weekends, evenings and well, just about anything I do, seem to come about. Unbeknownst to me, or my chap, the weekend in Brighton would be more unplanned and spontaneous than even we had foreseen. And would also include a metric fuck-tonne of beers.

Sunday - 
After a bit of a 'mare booking the hotel, and then cocking up my train tickets, we grabbed a couple of 'crikey we deserve these' beers for the journey and got onto the Brighton train. I'd never been there before and was excited to say the least. I love the seaside and I love going to new places. Brighton also had a carousel. On the pier. Give me a decent beer and that's heaven right there. Off the train and straight to the pub (it's a good job my chap likes drinking as much as I do, or we'd be short lived). First stop was The White Rabbit, a brilliantly quirky looking pub, fairly standard for Brighton I was pleasantly surprised to see, with outside seating. The ladies loo door had a poster of horror clown on it. After getting fella to open it for me (I really, REALLY hate clowns) I discovered there were similar posters on each cubicle. *gulp*

A pint of 'Free State' by the Brighton Bier brewery helped (see what they did there?). It had a reassuring bitter taste, a beer with a decent colour and some body to it but nothing outlandish. Sat outside with us was a guy playing acoustic guitar and various hippy / student / arty / weirdos filed passed as we drank. I declared my undying love for the town and I was only half a pint in.
Next pub, near our hotel, was a Brew Dog fortuitously. They were having a mash-up event (or something). I was left to choose the beers. A rye IPA for myself from Moor Beer // Brew dog Bristol and a black coffee IPA from Crafty Devil Brewing Co. // Brew dog Cardiff for the chap. It was then I decided rye IPAs were my favourite (it's only taken, what, twenty years of drinking beer to find that out?) and I even liked the black coffee brew. The barman happily chatted to us about the beers, even after I'd told him I wanted a pint not a half, thank you very much, then he told me they were served in two-third pots. Oops. He even gave us a little glass each of 'Wild Gift' as he had over poured. Apparently this beer had 'infections' in it. Charming. Tasted slightly sour but nice if that's possible. Not sure if a pint of it would go down as easily though.

Checked in at the hotel and there was still enough time for a pint before the gig. The Mash Tun looked promising, if the gig posters in the windows were anything to go by. Unfortunately the place smelled of vomit, but fella being the gentlemanly type he is (and having an inferior sense of smell) told me to grab a table outside while he got the beers in.

Two quick, but very enjoyable, pints of DNA by Dog Head Brewery later we were watching Joanna Newsom while sipping mediocre 'large venue' beers. Yawn (the beers not Ms Newsom).
After the show Brewdog was still open so we had one there (probably the same that I had before, but to be completely honest I was a little tiddly by this point and didn't write it down). After a quick stop in a corner shop we were sat on the pebbled beach of Brighton, drinking bottles of Tyskie, while I drunkenly tried to point out constellations in the sky in the hopes of being romantic, but actually just being a plum. In an extra act of plumness I dropped my phone on the beach and had to go back looking for it. I blame the sea air. And the many beers.


Monday - 
OK not technically the weekend but I'm freelance so every day is the weekend to me. First port of call was Irregular Choice. This wasn't a brewery but a shoe shop. I like shoes as much as, if not more than, beer and IC are my favourite shoe designers. Ever. Beers tend to be cheaper but don't seem to last as long, but too much of either make it difficult for me to walk. After trying on about eight different shoes, and running around like a loon with a manic grin on my face we wandered round some other vintage junk and gem shops before, you guessed it, stopping for a beer. Hey, we're on holiday, alright?

The Prince George was having a beer festival. Win. I chose the W.G.V. (I think) by Firebird Brewery, on gravity. I wish I drank dark beers as I would have totally been swayed by the 'Scary Man' beer with a picture of death on it. The description of mine said 'earthy' which I would totally disagree with. It was bright in colour and had an odd zingy taste to it, with a lingering after taste too. After a pint I was undecided whether I liked it or not but we were off anyways.

After a bit more wandering we stopped at the Fiddlers Elbow, an Irish pub that didn't seem to be a pastiche. How refreshing. They had Darkstar on and it was one I'd not seen before. 'Revelation' had an almost religious and very beautiful pump clip, like a stained glass window and was a nice beer but nothing to blow my mind.

After this we went into the Hope & Ruin, a very trendy looking bar in the shabby student / fairy lights and DIY chic style. I had another Brighton Bier I believe and then my favourite Velvet Underground track came on. Was quite literally having the best day. On the way down to Brighton I had googled 'Brighton rock pubs' and found the Caroline of Brunswick. It had a giant three-headed dog hanging over the bat and a dread-locked barmaid. Pints of Hobgoblin (of course) and some very cheesy metal, sat under a Siouxsie album cover and I was over the moon.
It was about then that we decided to stay another night in Brighton. Earlier that day I had been told that my 9am Tuesday meeting had been cancelled, effectively giving me the day off (told you I was freelance). Initially I was livid, having booked a timed train ticket for Monday evening, even though my fella had Tuesday off, cutting our trip short. I looked at him and said 'Shall we stay another night?' and I think I had time to blink before he said 'Yeah why not?'. More googling and one flash of my MasterCard later and we had trendy accommodation booked at The Artists Residence. We went for food in the Hobgoblin (a pub that should have been a rock pub but disappointingly wasn't and I'm fairly sure they served us our beers in plastic glasses). A pint of Gun Brewery Pale Ale and a Hellfire burger later, we checked into the hotel and went to another pub.

The Victory Inn had a gorgeous front with those deep green gloss tiles and a traditional sign. Inside it was wood and brass and we got chatting to the chaps sat next to us at the bar who, despite initial reservations turned out not to be drunken lecherous idiots. I genuinely have no idea what I drank, I may have stopped caring by this point.

Tuesday -
I didn't drink today. I know, unbelievable right? I did, however, go into an awesome bottle shop and buy my flatmate a present for feeding my cats - a bottle of Zodiak with a black label and luminous green alien logos. He assured me that when he drank it later that it was awesome. Instead of pubbing we went on the pier and had an awesome breakfast outside a cafe. My journey home was a bit of a 'mare (I traveled for about 8 hours that day) but it was totally worth it. We're going back again very soon.

Pint-Sized Blonde for Outline Magazine

This month I visited the Belle Vue pub. We did the pub quiz. We won the pub quiz. We won the bonus cash as well. No one in the pub liked us very much, but we really didn't care. We were a bit pissed and £10 richer. You can read the piece online here or pick up a copy of Novembers Outline Magazine if you are fortunate enough to live in the Fine City of Norwich

Golden Camels, King Parrots & Jesus - London Beer blog

Scooter Bar, Waterloo
Negra Modello

I had been promised trendy London beers and an awesome Thai dinner this evening so expectations were high. After catching the tube to Waterloo (I think - I don’t pay much attention when someone else is leading) and walking passed a gold camel on a rooftop (awesome) we reached the Scooter Bar. I’ve been brought up to consider scooters as little more than a glorified bicycle with no gears but despite my reservations, and the abundance of scooter-related paraphernalia, it was a decent, quirky little bar. Kind of boho theatrical with mismatching furniture and a non-plussed cat (my favourite kind). As the place was so small it had nothing on tap so my fella ordered us bottles of Negra Modelo and we sat under a picture of Jesus and his sacred heart, lit by fairy lights. The beer was sweeter than I would usually choose, it had an almost almond aftertaste I seem to remember, but it ended up being a long night so my memory could be wrong...


After that we walked round the corner to the misleadingly titled ‘Marie’s Café’, for Thai food. Inside it was low key and honest, just the kind of place I love to eat in. It was BYOB so we’d planned ahead and stopped at M&S on the way. I’d picked up an Adnams Southwold Winter IPA (exclusive to Marks don’t you know) to go with my chicken in oyster sauce served on a plastic plate. Awesome.
After food (and a dash to the cash machine cos the café didn’t take card) it was mentioned that my fella’s profession granted him access to a private club, but as yet he hadn’t managed to go. Did I fancy taking a look? This sounded like a perfectly random thing to do and therefore right up my street, yes please.

Union Jack Club, Waterloo
Union Jack Ale

Being called the Union Jack Club, you can imagine what it looked like inside. Kind of like a clean Wetherspoons but with pictures of ships and notable military figures on the wall. Lots of pine furniture and a carpet that made my head hurt. We headed through to the bar and I got a pint of Union Jack ale. Winner. It was nothing to write home about, just a bog standard beer but cheap as chips. Despite sticking out like sore thumbs, no one gave us a second glance, which was nice. Even so this wasn’t really our kind of place so we had just the one and moved on.





The Kings Arms, Roupell St
King of Hearts, Wild Card Brewery

The Kings Arms was a real ale pub, that looked like a real ale pub. Y’know, traditional with the half

frosted windows and old style circular bar. I had a pint of King of Hearts, mainly because I liked the pump clip (a parrot wearing a crown) and it was a blonde beer. By that point that's all I could determine, but it was a lovely dry hopped pint. As you can see by the fuzzy picture my brain had decided I’d had a few too. Also a chap was sitting at the bar directly in front of the pump, so it was a super quick stealth photo, as I always feel like a plum taking photos of pump clips if anyone sees me. Actually I feel like a plum doing it if no one can see me.

As the pub closed and we were turfed out, the decision was made to keep going and there was only one place to go.

Cro Bar, Soho
Budvar

The Cro Bar is another bar too small for a cellar, so only sells bottles and shorts. I would normally get a real ale, a Hobgoblin or even a Trooper, but for some reason every time I step into the Cro, the words ‘bottle of Budvar’ escape my mouth. I do like Budvar though. Surprisingly we got a seat, especially as it had gone midnight and the bar is always packed, tucked into the corner where I could happily people watch. I have no idea when we got home but I do know the cab ride was £40.

14.10.15 - Borough Market, Utobeer!
OK, not technically a pub (or even remotely close to being a pub) but it had LOADS of beers, which is not surprising in the least as it is a specialist bottled beer shop. The problem was that the only bottles I liked the look of were ones I would never actually drink (like stouts or porters) and nothing else had a bat on its label so I couldn’t persuade myself to part with any money that day. I have a feeling I’ll be back though….
After the market we went to the Crime Museum. No beers but worth mentioning that it was brilliant and I had a grin on my face the whole way round, which other visitors probably thought was weird seeing as it was all about murders and stuff.

Princess Louise,
Organic Lager, Samuel Smiths
After the cinema (I think we had about three dates in one day?) there was time for a quick beer in the Princess Louise, a fabulous old boozer, the kind Americans would like to recreate and fail dismally. It was a Samuel Smith's pub (something I don't remember coming across before) but apparently that meant it would be cheap. Gob smackingly cheap. I didn't recognise any of the beers on offer so plumped for an organic lager, which was just what I fancied at the time. There was a very drunk girl in the corner who kept shouting incomprehensible things but she seemed happy enough, and the staff all looked alternative. Wish I could have stayed in there a little longer and got one of the booths.

Happily we arrived at Liverpool Street station in plenty of time for my train home and squeezed in another beer in The Merchants of Bishopsgate (or TOMB as I like to think of it) and I'm not sure what I had to drink but I know there was a very, very rude man at the bar making the barmaid feel like crap. There is no excuse for this kind of behaviour and I sincerely wished she had thrown him out. It's the kind of stuff a decent bar shouldn't let happen to their staff (I've walked out of jobs for being told to 'take whatever the customer gives you and smile'.) Despite this, and the fact my train was eventually delayed and I had to change at Colchester, my couple of days in London were pretty awesome. I use the word 'awesome' a lot. Must mean things are going ok.....

Outline Magazine - The Plasterers Arms Column

This month I have my own section on the Outline Magazine website so you can read my column online! This month's is about The Plasterers Arms and how booze helps me through football, but not through a pub quiz, and why you should never put coconut on a pizza.