I started off this week's aleness with an awkward confrontation in the Clannanch, a Nicholson's near Carnaby Street. I asked if a particular beer was on. The barman, in the tone of a headmaster talking to a naughty 5year old, stated that if the pump clip is facing me, the beer is on. So I had to remind him of the last time I was in that exact spot, three pump clips were facing me and not a single one was actually available and we had left, and I'd emailed the head office (yes I am a grass). He didn't really reply.
Thursday saw the best deal Wetherspoons has done in ages, with their Burn's week special, Haggis, neeps and tatties with a pint of scottish ale for £3.99. Beautiful- at the risk of sounding a bit Oz Clarke, the Caledonian Auld Aquaintance brought out the oats and went perfectly with the turnip. Dark but light, I came over all och aye.
We just got back from another London Bridge session- it seems to be coming a Sunday/ lazy day regular. A good selection in the Market Porter ( Loddon's Firsty the Snowman and Bradfield's Farmers were the best of the bunch) were accompanied by the permanent problem of insufficient seating and a debate over stealing the beer mats (we have a very good but very secret reason for wanting to do so). We then ambled round to the Wheatsheaf, which despite having a sign outside advertising Sunday night jazz, was shut. With a padlock. So yet again, the Horniman got our custom, and we got to try two Lancaster ales, their blonde and their amber. I never thought I'd say this, but just this once, blonde was better.