Wednesday 25 January 2012

Mr Perrot RIP

The quintessential English pub: wood paneled walls, dim lighting, pictures of WW2 aircraft on the walls (signed by original pilots), no piped music, warm beer and - above all - nobody else in it. Peace, perfect peace.

The Green Tree in Green Street, Bath, has been a pub with that name since about 1710 or so and has survived many social upheavals because - as far as I know - it has been a 'free house' (not assigned to a national brewery which plays monopoly with property) and remains in private hands to this day.

I occasionally nip into it during the winter months (too claustrophobic in the summer) for a quick nap over a beer, drifting off and allowing the historical ambiance to wash over me as the flat ale gets flatter, but sometimes I have to leave as quickly as I can.

The drawbacks to this otherwise charming place is the size of it, combined with the fact that it never plays music - the negatives are the same as the positives.

It is the same with all pubs - they attract a higher than normal amount of complete arseholes whose natural tendency toward arseholeness is exaggerated by the alcohol they consume. When one of them sits at the opposite table to you in a place like the Green Tree, there is no escape, and the lack of loud music means there is no blotting them out either.

If the place is packed (and it only takes one team of bell-ringers to pack it) then it is possible to find seclusion - in the same way it is possible to be lonely in a crowd - but if it's just you and one other, you have to be very lucky to find a soul-mate in him, especially if you are as misanthropic as I am. Women never go into it on their own.

When smoking was allowed in British pubs, sometimes it was difficult to see from one side to the other of this tiny room, and even I - a dedicated smoker - found it unpleasant. I do miss the nicotine-stained ceiling though - it had a patina like a creme caramel which the most skillful of decorators could not have replicated.

About 100 years ago, there was a brewer near Kelston, Bath, called Mr Perrot. A friend of mine recently bought the old buildings where his brewery used to be, but that's going off on a tangent.

Once a year, a small brewery here makes an ale in his memory called 'Mr Perrot's Ale'. It is a thick, black, Porter type drink with an extremely high alcohol content for a beer - something like 7% when most other beers are 4.5 or so.

The Green Tree usually buys a couple of barrels of this during the winter season, but sets one aside to rot down in the little, cramped cellar beneath the bar. After a couple of months, this barrel is tapped on a certain day, and the date for the tapping is announced by a hand-written poster over the fireplace, allowing anyone who wants to try it to be there before it runs out.

By the time they get around to tapping it, the alcohol content has risen to about 13% (they did test it once I believe), and drinking any more than a pint of it can lead to memory loss, or worse - sometimes it's best to forget.

I went in a few years ago with a friend who tries my patience to the extent that I try to see as little of him as possible (I can only tolerate him when drinking), and I drank three pints of the stuff. Delicious.

The next thing I knew, I was shouting at my bewildered friend, more or less telling him to shut the fuck up.

In vino veritas.

22 comments:

  1. Most of the good pubs I frequented in the UK used to sell Winter Ales. They were always dark, highly alcoholic, and often quite sticky. Wonderful.

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    1. There used to be a London competition for beer, where men in leather breeches would sit on an oak bench splashed with strong ale, and the ale which caused the bench to stick to the breeches for the longest time when the man stood up, won the prize. Strange, but true.

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  2. "I went in a few years ago with a friend who tries my patience to the extent that I try to see as little of him as possible (I can only tolerate him when drinking)"

    erm..... I don't think he IS a friend then.....

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    1. His heart is almost in the right place, but his brain is up his arse. I have been quite tolerant with him in the past, but I'm now ezhausted.

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    2. perhaps I should have re phrased that... I don't think that you are HIS friend

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    3. Oh fuck off, you self-righteous prick. (lol!)

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    4. Actually, ignore the 'lol' - I meant it.

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    5. And another thing, if you personally knew who I was talking about and had been through the same stuff as I have with him, you would surely agree with me, so stop being a non-paid social worker and get on with watching your soap.

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    6. Your fucking awful soap which you are so highly qualified to give a university critique upon.

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    7. well I think, that tells me doesnt it......

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    8. oh dear!
      well I count at least 4 insults there
      hey ho

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    9. And all 4 of them were a reaction to your one big one when you seem to suggest that you have the last word on the understanding of what constitutes friendship between two people who you have never met, let alone seen interact over a period of about 30 years. You probably thought you had right on your side by telling me that I am not his 'friend', simply because it would have been downright rude of me to explain what has passed between us over the years, but actually your little comment was nothing but a good, old-fashioned 'clap-trap'.

      It is the people who I do not consider 'friends' that I politely ignore. I reserve the right to bite anyone else's head off.

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    10. oh tom you bite people's heads off so well....
      for a guy who never "pulls his punches" when commenting on peoples' writings.... you get so sensitive when someone actually comment upon yours....

      I have no knowledge of your history with this guy, you didn't make it clear, I just thought that your negativity about him and the word "friend" didn't quite go together...

      sigh

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    11. You weren't commenting on my writing, John, you were commenting on my relationships - I can take any uninformed criticism you care to throw at me with regard to either, but don't expect them to go unchallenged.

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    12. and you challenge everything so well..

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  3. 'Women never go in there alone' Tom - sadly I belong to that generation who would never go into any pub alone - particularly as I am teetotal (for medical reasons not ethical). As my son says when I make this kind of statement 'You should get out more Mum.'

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    1. I don't blame tee-totals, Weaver, I pity them. Like W.C. Fields (?) said, "I feel sorry for non-drinkers - when they get up in the morning, that's the BEST they are going to feel all day."

      Of course, if it's a medical reason, then this does not apply to you! (and I don't believe it anyway)

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  4. Surely that had nothing to do with the three pints Tom, since you do that regularly anyway!

    I miss quiet pubs where you can spens peaceful hour with a pint of bitter - finding somewhere now that is not frequented by the local scum and villainy is a tricky business these days, here in Mos Eisley.

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    1. Yes, I do do it regularly, Chris, but on the rare occasion that drinking rids me of what precious few inhibitions I have left, I sometimes do it inadvisedly. Honest.

      I like spesning peashful hours nursing a pint in some dingy snug, but most of the time, I like hanging out with the villains. I try to avoid scum, though.

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  5. PiS I have been drinking hence the tipoos...(hic)

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  6. More photos please of this pub.
    Good read, thanks.

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