There also appeared to be a children’s party going on in both the upstairs and downstairs function rooms, with the kids approaching the bar several times during my session and walking off with glasses and pitchers of Shirley Temples.
... it adroitly threaded the needle between a strong mild, a wee heavy, and a barleywine, without venturing too far into the exotic world that is the Winter Ale or Christmas Ale or Holiday Ale.
... this was the beer that had the most additives, pretty much everything that you would find when cleaning out the back of your fridge and spice cabinet.
Well, old Pete may have cleaned up the riverfront, but he forgot to install any restrooms, so I had to look elsewhere.
I hear you asking yourselves, how come this young (cough) man is extolling the virtues of a beer that is fit only for the West Midlands cloth cap brigade and old fogies elsewhere?
Pale yellow, gassy, non-descript, mostly harmless, yet curiously approachable, whether served on draught or in cans… it was all the same.
