We went to look at a house tonight. ‘Converted chapel in historic Yorkshire mill town‘ certainly has a ring to it, even if it’s probably a bit of a pretentious shrill these days. Still, our jaws had dropped at the 3 bedrooms and 3 bathrooms over 3 floors, connected with a central spiral staircase and an attic living area that holds 100 people, all for under £195k. We had to look.

Despite the en suite shower wet room, integrated sound system, gated forecourt, all-in-one central kitchen unit and 8 foot (yes, 8 foot wide!) projector system in the attic/lounge I was disillusioned at the lack of garden space. Sitting in my ‘living area’ looking down on the Victorian park through my electric skylights I’d be comfy enough, but unfulfilled. A summer beer ain’t a beer if you’re not in the garden.

“I’m not really in t’garden” says the vendor. “Spen’dya ‘ole life wurking Satd’ys t’ave a barbecue on Sund’y's…not for me”.

Now I’m no green fingers, but I enjoyed landscaping the garden so that now I can sit and relax in it. I enjoy watering the easy-to-maintain shrubbery and even delighting at the garden lilies when they burst skyward in their orange, yellow and angel white glory. A sweep of the patio in the morning, a few weeds pulled up here and there – it’s all in the aid of that perfect evening sat with a beer, watching the sun fall behind the neighbours trees and the line of semi-detached gables turn orange and then rusty brown.

It’s not like I give up every Saturday. And when I do have to delve into the garage for my rake and strimmer, an afternoon in the garden means tops off, skins on and organic debris everywhere. Working up a sweat means ham and cheese on soda bread and a bottle of cold beer to cool down.

Gardening should be leisure and that’s why you can take your intercom and your walk in wardrobe; you can shove your separate laundry room and guest bedroom floor; I’m not fussed about the lights you designed yourself or the remote controlled garage door. I’m happy looking in through your high arched windows and knowing that I’m walking home to my garden. And hopefully a glass of beer.

Life's simple pleasures: a beer in the garden (in a fancy oversized wine glass)

If any of you London folk are still speechless at the price, I advise you to move up North. The nearest local pub to the ‘house’ we viewed sells Sam Smith’s bitter at less than £1.30 a pint and local butchers Wilson’s do the world’s best all meat pork pies for 85p. The North’s where it’s at folks 9as long as you can find a beer garden).

The last two posts started life as simple beer reviews. I’d just got paid and I headed to the beer aisle for something that I could drink without worrying about. And I was concious that the widely available supermarket beers hadn’t had much coverage recently.

Badger Golden Glory is apparently, absolutely glorious

Somewhere along the line, in the middle of chopping mushrooms for a curry, my ‘I’m not going to think about this one’ beer (Badger Golden Glory) became something different. And led to a little experiment.

I reckon everyone serves their off-trade beers differently. Some sup from a conical pint glass (adorned with a beer festival logo gradually being eroded by alkalescent dishwasher tablets anyone?!), others straight from the bottle and some from a favourite handled pewter amongst other weird and wonderful vessels.

Me, I mix and match, and I been wonder how this effects my tasting notes, and thus perceptions of beers. I’ll happily pour expensive beers into a rounded red wine glass but chuck pilsner into my stolen Urquell glass or stout into a chunky Ikea pint tankard. Invariably the more I care the greater chance of decent and appropriate glassware.

So, here’s a few of my scribbled tasting notes of two beers, each one tasted using three fairly typical serving methods for me: in a handled half pint glass; straight from the bottle; and swilled from a hugely oversized and rotund wine glass. Read the rest of this entry »