Beer we go as pubs open at last
Boozers welcome back punters
They say everyone has their own “where were you . . .?” moment. An incident or event in your personal timeline that was so incredible . . . it becomes mentally indelible.
For those of us – like me – born in an epoch when the only ‘cliffs’ in the hit parade were either Dover or Richard, it was probably the assassination of President John F. Kennedy in 1963.
I was playing ‘soldiers’ that November Friday night – hiding from a Nazi search party under the coffee table. When a stern BBC voice interrupted programmes to announce that Kennedy had been shot – my mum confiscated my Tommy gun and sent me to bed.
Disarmed . . . by my own mother. No wonder it’s a mental scar!
And I imagine successive age groups will all have their own “where were you?” moments.
Neil Armstrong’s first footsteps on the moon in 1969 will be up there. As will the unforgettable collapse of the Twin Towers in New York in 2001.
But hey - it’s time for these earthshattering events to move over.
There’s a new kid on the “where were you” block.
Where were YOU . . . for your first pub drink after lockdown? For those of you who are teetotal, tipple socially at home or eschew alcohol for religious or medical reasons – the rest of this article will be virtually meaningless. But for others – like me – the excitement of that first postlockdown pint was right up there. It was like still believing in Santa! My humble boozer opened its doors last Wednesday – and my first customer looked like he was about to enter an alien galaxy.
He stood in the doorway . . . and nervously peered in. If you can imagine the expression on Lord Carnarvon’s face when he first opened the door to Tutankhamun’s tomb – this was it.
“What do I do?” he stuttered. “Well, you order a drink . . . pay for it . . sit down . . . and drink it”, I replied.
“Wow!” he replied.
I swear he stared at his pint of Tennents lager for a full 10 minutes before plucking up the courage to hold it! Enjoyable though a cold lager might be, we Guinness drinkers look down on such mere mortals.
And only a Guinness man could even start to explain the difference between a perfectly poured pint and its fraudulent canned counterfeit.
I had waited 116 days for this moment. And I’ve seen guys get less than that for housebreaking.
Within minutes of opening, it became horribly evident that my wait was going to be at least another 24 hours.
The Guinness cooler that was switched off almost four months ago had taken a dislike to being switched on again. It was, as we like to say in the technical world of drinks dispensing – totally gubbed!
But then . . . . like the arch-angel
Gabriel, the engineer from Diageo appeared the next day complete with halo . . . and the very latest in digital Guinness chilling.
This baby not only cools your pint – it tells you how cool your pint is. I mean – how cool is that?
The technician hitched it up and began pouring a magnificent looking pint.
But after a thermometer check
– he heaved it down the sink and started again. And started again. And started again.
Maybe they hadn’t sent Gabriel after all . . . they’d sent that other one...to torture me!
At £4 a pop – I was running out of profit, Guinness and patience.
But finally, he filled a pint and sat it on the bar.
I watched its dark currents ebb and flow inside the glass . . until its creamy white top had settled.
“Your glass minus 0.9 degrees” said the engineer.
Six long, slow gulps later – my glass was now minus the Guinness. The best pint ever?
Aye, it was.
And unlike that Tommy gun . . . my mum didn’t confiscate it either!
My first customer looked like he was about to enter an alien galaxy