tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1890667610568880312011-12-09T09:25:22.789ZBumbling around London on an elderly Vespa, forming half-baked and often downright inaccurate opinions about absolutely everything.TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.comBlogger3441100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-53661485164197762092011-05-16T13:08:00.002+01:002011-05-16T14:14:51.044+01:00

.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; } Yorkshire, originally uploaded by Tsingtao. I've had enough of Blogger. The recent outage was the final straw, and I'm off to a new gaff. My half-arsed opinions and brain-emptyings will now be found at:http://

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-11672785729132734012011-05-05T12:04:00.007+01:002011-05-05T14:51:17.893+01:00

Joe Fusniak would have been well looked after when he appeared at the White Lion, which remains a great, unpretentious pub. Not a few places in the Dales have been gastrated with varying degrees of success. I've heard of stares and even outright hostility toward visitors wanting just a pint and some crisps rather than a glass of Barolo and a bisque-infused crab and pea risotto with sun-boiled

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-70857991813750417232011-05-04T11:56:00.007+01:002011-05-04T13:16:34.786+01:00

Royal Wedding Day, Upper Wharfedale. Union Jacks flutter with Yorkshire flags in the late spring sun. Trestle tables are being set up on village greens, cakes brought out from ovens in ancient stone cottages. You couldn't have asked for better weather, everyone said.Unless you were up Buckden Pike, like Our Lad and me. The Pike wore a thick mist, which blew in like a sinister blanket from

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-3649980005748675262011-05-03T12:47:00.008+01:002011-05-04T15:02:38.305+01:00

Upper Wharfedale is the last place in the country to still have a mole-drying industry. Here's a late spring catch, desiccating nicely on a rack just outside Starbotton. Wharfedale Mole is a prized delicacy in Southern Europe, particularly in the Pyrenees where the rocky landscape makes the little critters very rare. There are perhaps a couple of dozen of these drying frames remaining in the Dale

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-15532358651329355472011-04-26T12:36:00.010+01:002011-04-26T14:09:20.386+01:00

Last friday I constructed a wardrobe. It's a massive, hugely heavy thing and looks like a coffin for a couple of obese giants. I even had to affix battens to the wall to keep the beast from falling on us, which given my DIY 'skills' is the equivalent of a caveman making fire. It took me about nine hours and was like wrestling with the Ark Royal. By the evening I could barely walk. I needed a

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-76293055171897689782011-04-19T12:55:00.006+01:002011-04-19T14:40:38.301+01:00

I'm a photographer who loves beer, so I've often got my camera with me in the pub. I've had nothing much to blog about just recently, so I hope you don't mind me sharing some images of beer that i've enjoyed over the last year or so. Apologies if some of the captions read like an optician's wall chart - It's times like this when I wish i'd chosen Wordpress over Blogger.Bush Inn, MorwenstowThe

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-50906741860233825682011-04-14T12:50:00.006+01:002011-04-14T15:19:03.828+01:00

It's amazing how much you can carry on a bicycle. In those far off, pre-car, pre-Vespa days of dwelling in Zone One I could bring home a weeks shopping on my bike. Rucksack on my back, newspaper down my jumper and carrier bags swinging from the handlebars. Easy. Beer bottles are hard work, though. Awkward shapes, hard to pack. Easy to smash - and they're heavy.But look at this, from Etsy's

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-41309882141250704692011-04-10T14:20:00.006+01:002011-04-12T12:08:17.401+01:00

First proper trip on the homemade singlespeed this morning. Normally, it takes me about 40 minutes to ride the 5 or so miles to work. Even though it's a nippy bike, I tend to ride like one of John Major's spinsters cycling to evensong on my Trek 7.3FX. The head-down geometry of the Raleigh shaved more than five minutes off my journey, and that's with stopping at every red light on Mile End Road

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-25432845575503945802011-04-08T12:07:00.005+01:002011-04-08T12:22:47.026+01:00

The final part of the singlespeed jigsaw arrived this morning; a cheap - and hopefully cheerful - KMC chain which will be fitted this weekend to my new ride. The only original components left on the bike are the frame, crankset, handlebars and stem. The build has been fairly straightforward so far - the biggest hiccup being thieving ratbags at our Royal Mail depot a pair of new brake calipers

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-5158144440426351562011-03-29T12:17:00.011+01:002011-03-29T23:38:00.456+01:00

A few shots from a visit last year to The National Mining Museum near Wakefield. It's on the site of the old Caphouse Colliery, which began producing in the late 1700s and closed, empty of economic coal, in 1985. It's got the lot - pit ponies, winding gear, steam boilers. And it costs nowt to get in. Much as I am in favour of museums being free - this is one that deserves a cough up for the

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-66876439073173630652011-03-22T11:27:00.010Z2011-03-22T14:00:54.079Z

This sign's next to the intriguingly named Slaymaker Lane, just outside Oakworth. The Lane is a place of childhood dares, myths and folklore. Pleasant in the daytime, at night the high stone walls and the thick curtain of trees make it darker than normal, even on a full moon. It's a place where your footsteps quicken, even if you don't know about the resident ghost of a horse and rider.Not to

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-35140191831530285912011-03-14T12:18:00.005Z2011-03-14T13:47:01.762Z

Say hello to my latest effort, brewed from a Woodfordes Wherry Kit. I cooked this up at the end of january, fermented it for 12 or so days and then barreled it without flooding the kitchen. Apart from the odd test snifter, It'd been sleeping peacefully in a cool corner of our dining room. Last friday - after a working week from hell - I could wait no longer. Out came the nonic.So what's it like?

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-36744277602086460522011-03-10T12:23:00.005Z2011-03-10T13:19:45.830Z

In the same way you don't visit Yorkshire to get a sun tan, you don't go there and expect to lose weight. On my week-long visit I consumed* fish and chips three times, a curry and three pies - two of which came with mushy peas.Pie and peas is the great Yorkshire meal. Classless, simple - you can eat it with a spoon - nutritious, filling and with the exception of Bradford beer festival, (great pie

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-47724149822493563732011-03-08T15:04:00.007Z2011-03-08T16:23:32.177Z

I'm partial to the odd Pure Brewed Lager from Samuel Smith - but as I'm still doing a one-man boycott, the Tadcaster bullies' beers are off limits. Apart from that, I've never really got on with British lager, even the 'craft' stuff. I don't even get on with Meantime Helles. If I want something golden and fizzy to go with a Thai meal i'll grab a few Zywiec from the shop next door. Hang on though

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-88273072897207476732011-03-06T10:45:00.007Z2011-03-06T10:53:23.556Z

A february sunday in Whitby.

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-69031465042690033992011-03-03T11:28:00.005Z2011-03-03T16:29:22.270Z

I now possess two scooters, half a car, a skateboard (somewhere) and four bicycles. The latest addition to the fleet is this late 1980s Raleigh Winner, which came thanks to the generosity of a nice chap I 'met' on a cycling website. He'd owned it for 20 years, but as a new dad it was surplus to his requirements. He didn't even want paying, but accepted a donation to his nappy fund.The Winner is

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-16384823864133496482011-03-01T15:16:00.006Z2011-03-01T21:54:42.910Z

Sir Titus Salt was just one of dozens of stupendously wealthy Victorian wool barons, but unlike many of the others he built a 'model' village for his employees - Saltaire. Now a world heritage site, It's all still there, sandwiched between the River Aire and the A650 Bingley-Bradford road. Salt's clogged and shawled workers got streets of well-built cottages, a library, wash houses, a hospital,

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-68307425147620912772011-02-16T11:15:00.008Z2011-02-16T12:32:20.377Z

TIW favourite The Harp has been voted CAMRA's pub of the year - the first time ever for a London pub.Is it the best pub in Britain? It's all highly subjective of course, but The Harp is certainly in my personal top five, and is easily my favourite London boozer. It's been my default Zone 1 destination for years. The Harp just gets it all right. Always busy, but never too busy to get you served

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-62719053095586673912011-02-14T18:54:00.005Z2011-02-14T19:04:18.729Z

Leytonstone. A flower shop. It's St Valentine's day.Geezer: "Aar much are these 'ere roses?"Florist: "Four pounds per stem, sir. It will be very nicely wrapped."Geezer: "Four quid!? It better be wrapped in a bleedin' Picasso for four bleedin' quid."

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-4069143161260447772011-02-07T13:05:00.006Z2011-02-07T13:53:29.124Z

The 300-odd acres of sandy grasslands and mature trees that make up Wanstead Flats are seen as a bit of a sacred site in our part of town. It's where you walk your dogs, play footy, ride horses, fly your remote control 'plane, go to the circus, lounge in the sun, watch fireworks, bareknuckle box and (sometimes) poison the wildlife. Leytonstone locals hate the idea of any development, no matter

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-70292794790588308792011-02-04T14:55:00.008Z2011-02-04T18:09:09.563Z

Just realised - I forgot to mention that after years of searching, I've finally found a decent pub in Barnstaple. It's the Rolle Quay Inn, a two-minute walk from the northern end of the High Street. It's much bigger than it looks from the outside, and a bit chintzy on the inside - but none the worse for that. We had a couple of first class pints of Proper Job (it's a St Austell house), served up

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-39514636689959092592011-02-03T13:58:00.005Z2011-02-03T14:16:48.347Z

Bad Leytonstone news and good Leytonstone news. The good news. Lots of action at the Red Lion (which is now on Twitter) - and should be open by the end of march. Here's the latest release from owners Antic:"I’m sure you have noticed our lovely builders getting stuck in at the Red Lion, work really is moving along and we are revealing more and more of the lovely old building all the time.

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-37999513901013669622011-01-31T10:20:00.005Z2011-01-31T20:01:07.641Z

Hard to know where to start with John Barry, isn't it?

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-30136078674359296632011-01-28T11:28:00.004Z2011-01-28T12:35:28.200Z

So, here's the result of my first-ever go at homebrew - the Brubox 'London Bitter' Our Lad got me for Christmas. I followed the (somewhat vague) instructions to the letter, especially the bit about the dangers of the bag bursting through over-pressurisation, which was no empty threat. Had a look the morning after I charged the brew with sugar and found the bag blown up to the size and shape of a

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-11538313270720766482011-01-24T13:17:00.005Z2011-01-24T13:44:24.663Z

A big sign (hoho) that things are at last progressing for Leytonstone landmark The Red Lion (ex Zulus). Rumour has it that a lot more work is needed refurbishing the old place than was first thought, which may have put the reopening back a few weeks - so it'll be spring at the earliest. New owners Antic have set up a holding page for the pubs website, showing how it was in (I presume) about 1900

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-11940868558227342382011-01-13T18:14:00.012Z2011-01-21T16:48:18.945Z

Mrs TIW's uncle and auntie are spending their retirement touring the US in a Fifth Wheel - or the world's poshest caravan, as it's also known. You can read about their escapades here. They've got an uncanny knack of bringing me over some superb and fairly hard-to-find American beers, like this Stone Ruination IPA, one of a brace that they got me for Christmas. I've only seen it for sale at

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-18995064749236957222011-01-11T10:59:00.010Z2011-01-11T14:58:01.014Z

The original Tron was baffling for the thirteen-year-old TIW sat in Keighley Picture House. But Our Lad and me were there for the computer animation rather than the confusing but lame storyline. All done on the Foonly supercomputer with its astonishing two megabyte memory. There'd been nothing like it before - but of course, there's been a lot like it since. Last night I saw Tron: Legacy. Not

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-4676239003535748622011-01-04T11:56:00.007Z2011-01-04T13:29:21.926Z

When I were but a nipper, my dad was a full-grain homebrewer, boiling the mash in a huge, copper jampot. The aromas of his small-scale efforts filled our street and mingled with those from Timothy Taylor 200 yards down the road. Along with golf, dad's primary hobby these days is researching the family tree, which has thrown up several ancestors running pubs and brewhouses in Leeds. Now it's my

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-62853476706325740352010-12-24T15:11:00.005Z2010-12-24T16:06:43.878Z

There’s a Yorkshire dialect song that we used to sing at school. I can’t remember the title, or much else – just the line “Nivver bin warm sin ah left me bed” – ‘warm’ pronounced to rhyme with ‘calm’, obviously. This line kept appearing in my head during my recent, pre-christmas visit home. It was cold. So very, very cold. One day we took a walk to the top of the Five Rise Locks, looking at the

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-68189446964893954782010-12-15T15:44:00.013Z2010-12-15T16:35:17.990Z

This is amazing. A tube map showing the real-time positions of actual tube trains. Very clever computer geekery. Or magic. Or the proof of alien intelligence. Or something. It's what the internet's for, anyway. Been around since June, apparently. Your TIW - always first with the news.

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-11333752621229278602010-12-08T14:56:00.005Z2010-12-08T15:03:53.625Z

This is the St Pancras Station Christmas 'tree', made from champagne bottles. I doubt the Strongbow tin was part of the artist's vision - but this is London, and you never know.

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-10715380769017018582010-12-06T16:25:00.013Z2010-12-08T15:08:34.356Z

"Don't have that. It's horrible." Said the the friendly James May lookalike behind the bar. He was right. The sampler of Brodie's Kosher Rye Ale he gave me smelt like gloss paint, and tasted like grass clippings. His recommendation of Old Hopper was right on the money though.It was saturday evening and pouring with icy rain. Mrs TIW, my brother and I were warm and snug in the William The IV in

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-1332535907703821092010-12-01T10:21:00.010Z2010-12-01T11:43:02.062Z

It's got a lot of potential, Leytonstone High Road, and it's about to get two million quid's worth of 'improvements'. I've no doubt that this will amount to the railway bridge getting a touch-up and loads of new signs telling us how great our local council are.My favourite building on the High Road has always been the Cuthbert-Dibble-and-Grubb fire station, now available as this marvellous

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-41325163335052283722010-11-30T11:18:00.008Z2010-11-30T11:41:47.819Z

Some pictures from a foot-stampingly cold tour around part of the Olympic site's perimeter on the Stratford/Bow frontier. It doesn't look it, but Europe's biggest building site is nearly finished, ahead of schedule and under budget. I've not always been kind about Stratford, Leytonstone's neighbour. According to our enthusiastic Blue Badge guide Stan, Stratty is being transformed from shabby (and

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-49275884081949546472010-11-29T11:13:00.005Z2010-11-29T11:34:53.345Z

My first visit to London was in 1981, on a school trip to see England Schoolboys play their Irish counterparts at a disappointingly shabby Wembley. After a fish-and-chip tea we were taken to see Airplane! at the Curzon on Shaftesbury Avenue. Waiting for the coach afterwards, we milltown naifs stood goggling at the Soho peacocks and quoting lines from the classic we'd just seen. Still makes me

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-78713614864382619662010-11-24T11:18:00.007Z2010-11-30T14:35:17.267Z

Never thought I'd look forward to visiting a pub near a train station. Finally got to the Euston Tap for a late-afternoon visit on monday. At first, the place was empty, except for an extremely posh young man who appeared baffled by the beer menu ("Um, what's a nice beer?") and a grizzled CAMRA vet in a faded beer festival shirt stretched over an impressive belly. Twenty odd-beers on the

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-3582570446939501252010-11-18T15:38:00.005Z2010-11-18T17:01:36.350Z

Well, whaddya know? Rumours have been circulating for months, but it looks like Piaggio really are going to start manufacturing the much-loved and much-missed Vespa PX again, in all its air-cooled, manual-gearboxed glory.The last PXs were made by Piaggio in 2007. Officially, their demise was brought about by the engines not meeting emissions legislation. Apparently, the new incarnation will

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-62378045436015139052010-11-16T14:24:00.010Z2010-11-17T14:34:07.259Z

I've been offered some bad pints in my time, and i've even had to bat off the infamous "It's meant to taste like that" cliché on a couple of occasions. But this is the worst example yet, encountered last friday at the (usually reliable) Crosse Keys as we caught the tail end of Wetherspoon's real ale festival. Wasn't even a full pint. Changed with no drama, but still - it shouldn't have made it to

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-60958847164736905442010-11-12T07:57:00.009Z2010-11-12T11:03:21.805Z

This is one of Marks And Spencers British beer range; Yorkshire Bitter. Not a bad drop - bottle conditioned, a chewy, fruity mouthful. It's made for M&S by Cropton, currently undergoing legal proddings from eccentric Tadcaster brewer Samuel Smith. I don't know about you, but the first thing I notice about this bottle is that large white rose. It's the white rose on Cropton's Yorkshire Warrior

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-34541714123816674352010-11-11T11:25:00.001Z2010-11-11T11:26:39.075Z

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-21847392495349450732010-11-10T11:04:00.014Z2010-11-10T11:43:28.751Z

One of the many things I like about Belgium is that the towns there are so photogentically grungy once you wander off the tourist offices' map. Central Brussels and Ghent feel like cities as lived by their citizens. Graffiti, litter and in Brussels' case - the stench of urine (yes, I know we have all these in London too, but that doesn't count). These images were taken within a stones-throw of

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-34190057087385762612010-11-09T15:57:00.010Z2010-11-09T21:17:53.962Z

Central Keighley must be one of the few places to escape the decimation of its pubs. In recent years the town has permanently lost the Eastwood Tavern, The Masons Arms and The Market Arms - and that's about it, although a number of pubs in outlying villages are said to be struggling and just lately The New Inn at Crossroads has become an ironmongers.Several pubs have closed and reopened - one

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-13677491775274669352010-11-03T14:48:00.007Z2010-11-03T15:32:22.496Z

According to dismal hysteria-sheet the Waltham Forest Guardian, Leytonstone's best-known deceased pub Zulus will indeed reopen as the Red Lion, as I speculated a few weeks back. A bit later than expected, though - "february at the earliest" according to Max Alderman of developers Antic Ltd. This is due to squatters taking roost, something that seems to have become a bit popular round our way

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-85725603121884413952010-11-02T11:14:00.014Z2010-11-02T20:35:10.908Z

Just back from a short trip to Ghent. Castles, trapgevel, bicycles, chocolate, bells, canals, frites, stoverij, beer. Nice town - unlike Brussels, which seems to get filthier with every visit. We weren't in Ghent long enough to really investigate the pubs, though we did have a couple of hours in the excellent Dulle Griet, squinting at the beer menu through the tobacco fug. Another stop was the

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-94286679657456122010-10-25T00:37:00.014+01:002010-11-01T21:36:46.972Z

Now it can be told. I'm a member of a club where men go to meet other men, and women are not allowed.There used to be dozens of these social clubs throughout the North. They were set up during the inter-war period by what were once patronisingly termed the 'progressive working-class' as a more respectable alternative to town pubs of the time. There are very few men-only clubs left, but two or

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-86233942777861049542010-10-17T18:52:00.007+01:002010-10-18T17:34:50.244+01:00

Autumn. Season of clichés and mellow fruitfulness. We've got a handsome cherry tree outside our house, which at this time of year sneezes about a ton of leaves into the front yard every couple of days. On saturday, sweeping that lot up put me in the mood for a dark beer, and it doesn't get much darker than Harveys Imperial Extra Stout. It's the Aleister Crowley of ales. Why is it so hard to find

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-50427227613827975002010-10-11T12:11:00.007+01:002010-10-11T13:15:24.437+01:00

Yesterday I was in Brighton, "covering" - as we photographers say - the Brightona motorbike show. I was there for the scooters, specifically to photograph as many of them as possible in front of a certain gallery. These events being what they are, it was an exercise in rumour ("500 scooters on their way right now from Aldershot") and herding cats. Photographing scooters inevitably involves lots

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-39417449112887862232010-10-09T13:25:00.003+01:002010-10-09T13:46:21.876+01:00

I'm not normally one who spends time reading the planning applications in provincial newspapers. But in this week's Keighley News was a submission from the best brewery in the world (Timothy Taylor, obviously). It was informing the Environment Agency of their plans to drill on their new site, over the road from the famous Knowle Spring brewery. This is the old WASK foundry and currently Taylor's

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-72951110169427158982010-10-06T15:06:00.011+01:002011-04-15T13:33:06.241+01:00

The Tadcaster brewer Samuel Smith seems to embody many of the attributes of the music hall version of the professional Yorkshireman. Stubborn, self-reliant, shrewd and reticent to the point of only getting a website in August 2010. They're certainly eccentric and somewhat secretive - they never seem give interviews. Their London pubs are a bit love-or-hate, but they certainly care for the fabric

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-52909178261888779512010-10-04T13:25:00.007+01:002010-10-04T13:35:52.168+01:00

Spotted in our local Waitrose yesterday. Yes, that is three 500ml bottles of ale for 12 (TWELVE) quid . You do get a CAMRA-branded cardboard box with a posh plastic handle, mind.

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-45501468623923383382010-10-01T13:24:00.005+01:002010-10-01T14:50:04.374+01:00

Just recently there have been all sorts of rumours about Leytonstone's two most prominent dead pubs. Lincoln's, which dominates the middle section of the HIgh Road has been sold. Or it hasn't. Planning to convert it to flats has been rejected. Or it's been accepted. It's going to become a restaurant. Or it isn't. Whatever the case, the premises remain closed and increasingly tatty.However, more

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-58704726547967027452010-09-29T15:11:00.011+01:002010-09-29T17:27:36.256+01:00

1965, and the Hells Angels are properly entering the consciousness of the American public. These superbly atmospheric photographs were taken by Life Magazine staffer Bill Ray who, with writer Joe Bride managed to gain entry to the scary and chaotic world of this most notorious of outlaw biker gangs. The then editor of Life, George Hunt spiked the story saying "I ain't running a story on those

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-36081966996675073162010-09-24T16:47:00.007+01:002010-09-24T17:42:44.848+01:00

London, city of surprises. When I first moved here I often used to walk down White Lion street N1, past a recess in a wall thick with a palimpsest of posters. Full of the flush of gentrification, Islington council had a cleanup one day and half-heartedly removed them right back to the bricks. All that was left was the rearmost layer - a woodface advert for a house clearance dated 1937. I wish

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-84035967971111774082010-09-23T16:56:00.005+01:002010-09-23T20:43:35.724+01:00

Good innit? Available from Popchart Lab, it's titled The Very Many Varieties Of Beer. 18 inches by 24 and printed on "80-pound card stock" (that's American for thick paper) in Brooklyn, US-of-A.Click the picture above to embiggen it a bit - although Popchartlab's website has a handy zoom so you can inspect all those varieties. If I'm a good Ten Inch Wheels for the rest of the year, hopefully

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-18388171025003848442010-09-17T17:43:00.006+01:002010-09-19T20:48:58.146+01:00

Just did an illustration for a mate - It was such a small job I didn't even want paying. Nipped out of the office and returned to find a Utobeer bag on my chair."Will those do?" says my teetotal mate.Oh, I reckon so. And they'll taste all the better knowing I won't even have to list them on my tax return. Take that, Osborne!

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-61337547799187378992010-09-10T10:51:00.010+01:002010-09-10T11:40:06.711+01:00

Last weekend my parents and brother were down for the Skyride - as good a reason as any to try the bottle of Brouwerij Strubbe's Leireken Wilde Vruchten that's been lurking at the back of our fridge for months. I picked it up on our last visit to Paris, when Strubbe's brewer was giving tastings at Cave á Bulles. His intent, he said, was to create a 'fruit beer which appeals to those that don't

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-71752978622130719692010-09-08T10:17:00.004+01:002010-09-08T10:43:13.313+01:00

Being lazy. Three trains cancelled. Tuts and frowns as I squeeze my bike on at a colourless Stratford. Elbows. Feet. Blackberrys. Ipods. The Metro. Mortgages. Dan Brown.Liverpool street. Doors, suits, barriers.A public school accent."Yorkshire? Saw the sticker on your bike""Yes. Keighley. You?""Harrogate."Two bright grins in the walls of grey, and we are gone.

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-10554274118700042022010-08-29T12:25:00.008+01:002010-08-29T13:27:46.483+01:00

You're probably sick of me banging on about the dire state of beer in Bideford. I know I am. Despite the town being in part of the country studded with micro and regional breweries, it's hard to find a decent pint in the towns and villages on the Torridge Estuary. True to form, I had three miserable pints at the Kingsley, the local in the village near to where my in-laws live. Doom Bar,

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-89730745384588466802010-08-26T23:47:00.005+01:002010-08-27T10:28:17.624+01:00

We were in Lyme Regis on our way back from a birthday trip to Devon. We liked Lyme, despite our visit to the only restaurant run by the Keystone Kops. Don't be fooled by the pink sky in the previous post, our visit coincided with Dorset's notorious rainy season. The next night was spent at a waterlogged Corfe Castle. Good thing Mrs TIW has some experience as a sailor, as our little Ford Ka

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-73190121979614896892010-08-26T23:23:00.002+01:002010-08-26T23:33:47.080+01:00

Three things quicker than getting a pizza at the Lyme Bay Kitchen1) The construction of the great European cathedrals2) Otzi the iceman being spat out of the Schnalstal glacier3) Walking from Fairbanks, Alaska to Cape Horn. Carrying an anvil.

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-20690482581981647472010-08-13T11:07:00.004+01:002010-08-13T12:18:17.437+01:00

"My grandfather opened this shop. It's still doing OK. We're retired now, but we come in to keep an eye on things. When we took over from my dad there wasn't even any lighting on the top floor. Those are the original windows up there. We could have modernised and gone self service, but our customers like things the way they are. We don't owe anyone anything. We don't even have credit cards. Do

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-27052689916888887392010-08-12T10:58:00.020+01:002010-08-12T17:08:15.108+01:00

I'll try to get to the end of this post without using the tired old pub reviewers word 'gem'. But I'll struggle.I first heard about the Blue Bell about three years ago, after my mum and dad found the place on one of their visits to York. IN PUB U'D RLLY LUV - came the text from my 70-year-old-dad, whose messages are apparently ghostwritten by a Walthamstow yoot - BLUE BELL INNIT.Our visit last

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-58812842048175939052010-08-04T10:41:00.009+01:002010-08-04T21:59:27.886+01:00

I never thought I'd say this, but Stratford is changing from the ragged patch in the torn backside of the old trousers hanging in the dilapidated shed of the East End, into somewhere fairly ... nice. The pace of change at the Olympic Park is stunning, and the neighbouring Westfield über-development looks almost finished. It's even going to have a John Lewis, so at least the folks from Upper

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-17683868323877023712010-08-01T12:35:00.005+01:002010-08-01T12:52:28.335+01:00

Here's wishing a happy Yorkshire Day to all Tykes, home or away.

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-18131225332165922462010-07-30T15:33:00.007+01:002010-07-30T16:16:10.854+01:00

Managed to combine two of my favourite things today - pies and cycling. Boris Johnson very kindly put a dock of his new hire bikes almost outside my office door. Member's card in the slot, green light on, a hefty tug on the handlebars and I was off, leaving a knot of amused tourists on the pavement. The bike's heavy, but well-made and comfy. A big friendly dog of a bike. It tackled the slight

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-54292520299431663642010-07-26T13:08:00.006+01:002010-07-26T13:31:29.991+01:00

We're veteran bike hirers, Mrs Wheels and I. Cities all over Germany, rural Austria and Italy. Even in Nanjing, which we explored on prehistoric Flying Pigeons. We've never had the guts to try the Paris municipal hire system, the Vélib, although cycling in the City Of Light can't be worse than in London, where the first hire scheme kicks off this friday. Lately, the bike docks have been

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-77171381819048425692010-07-23T11:49:00.006+01:002010-07-23T12:16:49.012+01:00

Leytonstone Festival's on at the moment. It's a series of events through july and august, mostly with an arty flavour. In the library tomorrow is the E17 Designers Market, a reflection that property prices in the traditional arty strongholds of Shoreditch, Bethnal Green and Hackney are pushing creatives further East.Last sunday we saw 6Music pleasers Cowbell play at the What's Cookin' Summer

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-63642616393205528152010-07-21T17:26:00.005+01:002010-07-21T17:45:29.295+01:00

Simon Patterson kicked it all off of course, and here's the latest homage to a homage. Click here to see The Poke's London underground map with stations and lines made up of subjects that get the Daily Mail into a lather. Given the "job" that I do, it's nicely apt that my home stop of Leytonstone has become Jordan on the Media Scum line.

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-63712955809077137582010-07-14T11:01:00.012+01:002010-07-22T20:28:09.997+01:00

London's famous for eccentrics. One of the most famous was Stanley Green, the 'Passion Proteins' man. When I first moved to London, stumbling my way around the city and feeling like I was the bloke in The Jam's Strange Town, I used to see him all the time. One evening I bought his booklet, more for the vernacular design and that it was all set in moveable type than for the sincere if impenetrable

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-73070248268497628852010-07-11T12:47:00.008+01:002010-07-11T14:04:57.060+01:00

The ebb and flow of pub closures continues in Leytonstone. Firstly, some good news. The Loaded Dog has reopened. This has had a pretty chequered past, even being run by Jamaican Yardies at one point, which resulted in a dramatic termination of licence involving stun grenades. For a couple of years after it was a good music venue, but got torpedoed when the pubco went bust. It was boarded up for a

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-11124213608815582712010-07-07T14:58:00.010+01:002010-07-07T15:51:18.174+01:00

Forgive today's double post. I've long been a collector of Geoffrey Fletcher, the artist and writer who spent the 60s and early 70s recording the bits of our capital that the tourists never ventured to - Limehouse, Whitechapel, Camden, Stepney, Stratford, - all locales at the time without a sniff of gentrification. Fletcher sought out the old shops, the long-term residents. The markets and the

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-5629598618448298172010-07-07T11:45:00.005+01:002010-07-07T13:03:52.008+01:00

Last night I bodged up a webcam to record our noisy neighbours. Apparently they live under a shed a few gardens away. I watched beetles and moths for about three hours until I realised that the bike cover (out of shot) was flapping around and scaring the cubs away. Here's the er, highlights.

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-29367500835435036272010-07-02T13:27:00.011+01:002010-07-04T12:18:00.329+01:00

Almost a year ago, my brother and me took a trip to France to see where our Uncle Joe was wounded in WW1. Joe was with the 15th Durham Light Infantry, which on the 24th of August 1918 was one of three Northern battalions given the job of taking hill 135 south of the village of Miraumont. If you've ever been to that region, you'll appreciate that 'hill' is a highly relative term, but presumably

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-27186689009211999962010-06-29T10:44:00.007+01:002010-06-29T12:34:26.058+01:00

Even before the recent attack just down the road in Hackney, there seemed to noticeably more foxes around than ever. (Incidentally, Hackney has a bit of a record of unfortunate incidents involving animals, not least the chimpanzee burglar.)Where I grew up, on the edge of the Worth Valley's endless moorland you rarely saw a fox, though there are local legends of them attacking humans, like Ted

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-6370059794253676192010-06-25T14:06:00.008+01:002010-06-25T16:07:06.195+01:00

Sooner or later in Munich, you're going to encounter some stunningly rude "service". Britain's service culture sometimes leaves a lot to be desired, but I've never had "Yeah? What. Do. YOU. Want?" barked at me in a pub here, as I have many times in Muenchen. The blokes in charge of the barrels in the beergardens are the worst, as if angrily dispensing short measures gives them some sort of

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-64652857941222559692010-06-23T12:43:00.005+01:002010-06-23T13:00:17.873+01:00

God. I hate football. Football and anything to do with football. I did actually used to enjoy the World Cup, but the loathsome personalities in this years squad have put me off for good. Despite that, I like this subtly patriotic rendering of one of the best adverts of recent years.Presumably, the correct thing to do now is type "Come on England".

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-20597151302171337452010-06-21T17:58:00.001+01:002010-06-21T17:59:55.011+01:00

You know it is, it really is.

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-74239063110710602462010-06-16T17:35:00.007+01:002010-06-16T18:12:44.012+01:00

A favorite German beer of mine has long been Augustiner Edelstoff, along with Andechser and HB Helles. At the moment in Munich, you'll be looking at paying about 4 euros a half litre for any of these. If you don't mind standing, you can pay a reasonably reasonable 2.60 at the Bratwurst Glöckl am Dom , which I blogged about last August. Our Lad and me dropped in last week, astonished to find it

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-87262623089007583792010-06-14T15:01:00.007+01:002010-06-14T15:52:51.098+01:00

As Affer says in his comment on my previous post - you're unlikely to get a drunken knuckling in Munich. The crime rate in Bavaria's capital is hilariously low. The city police post incidents they've attended on their website, and last time I was over there, they claimed to have been called out for 3 emergencies over a weekend. That's in a city of 4 million people, quite a lot of them plastered

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-21170087570415392842010-06-09T13:10:00.010+01:002010-06-09T17:12:39.326+01:00

There's nowhere like the Hofbrauhaus. Normally, I'm hardwired to avoid tourist traps but I love a night at Munich's - if not the world's - most famous pub. It's such a ludicrous place that's it's impossible not to enjoy a visit, and often so busy that you're forced to take pot luck where you might sit, getting forced into drunken mateship with a coachload of Koreans, a snuff-taking, corpulent

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-9282528444712299672010-05-29T22:42:00.004+01:002010-05-29T23:24:24.029+01:00

Not only a singular acting and filmmaking talent, Dennis Hopper was also a great photographer - one of his images 'Biker Couple' (1961) even making its way onto two volumes of the The Smiths Greatest Hits. None of his photographic output dates from later than the sixties - he claimed to never have carried a stills camera since the release of Easy Rider, his creative needs having being sated by

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-38872169873978696652010-05-28T12:17:00.000+01:002010-05-28T12:18:15.490+01:00

Wounded Lion: 'Pony People'.Sorry. Been a bit quiet recently.

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-49949931095614328882010-05-19T15:04:00.007+01:002010-05-19T17:06:26.527+01:00

Unless you're a fan of Alfred Hitchcock or live music there aren't, to be fair, many reasons to come to Leytonstone. I don't know what Hitch would make of the site of his dad's old shop, which is now a completely unlovely petrol station, but he might have liked our favourite restaurant just up the road. Tony and Thelma Kularbwong took over what was then a standard East End chip shop about 11

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-55519496529932498302010-05-13T11:02:00.014+01:002010-05-13T17:18:26.894+01:00

Much as I adore riding my scooters, mixing it with the traffic on Mile End road isn't my idea of a proper larf. I haven't used the Vespas to ride to work for many months, having worked out a cycle route where I can remain largely unmolested by East London's numberless untaxed, unlicenced, uninsured, untrained and un-brained drivers. Unfortunately, London's famous black cab drivers have it in for

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-32675451804236304782010-05-10T20:00:00.001+01:002010-05-10T20:01:57.624+01:00

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-61456566690973983602010-05-06T10:28:00.006+01:002010-05-06T14:31:51.483+01:00

Ah, polling day. Returning to the primary school you left years before, to find a place that once felt like the inside of York Minster has shrunk to the dimensions of a large garden shed. People wearing rosettes whom you've never seen before and will never see again asking how you voted. The distant sound of promises being shouted through speakers on the top of a car.Anyway. I'm pleased to see

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-50935568828580888262010-05-04T10:45:00.007+01:002010-05-05T11:59:48.800+01:00

I didn't even know we had wooden churches in England. And I didn't know that the oldest wooden church in the world is 40 minutes drive from Ten-Inch Villas, down meandering verdant Essex lanes at Greensted. To give its proper moniker, The Church of St Andrew, Greensted-juxta-Ongar has been there since at least the sixth century, though the thriving yew tree in the church yard and the nearby pond

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-53822855410326442842010-04-30T11:56:00.013+01:002010-04-30T23:34:15.240+01:00

It was World Pinhole Day last sunday, as well as being the day of the London Marathon. A beach hut is a fair bit easier to capture with a three-second exposure than Tsegaye Kebede, so I took my pics a fortnight early.The technical stuff: These were all taken on a Zero 2000 pinhole camera on Agfa APX 100 film which was out of date ten years ago. Exposures varied between 1-ish second to about 3

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-36155847757165312952010-04-23T11:27:00.015+01:002010-04-27T15:56:47.305+01:00

I'm fascinated by folklore and superstition. I grew up in the 70s and 80s in the modern but rural fringes of a mill town, but some neighbours never refused to buy the pegs the gypsies came round selling. Better keep them happy, otherwise, you might get cursed. Happened to a friend's auntie didn't it? Never been the same, she hasn't. I remember seeing milk left out for the 'Hob', the local name

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-35626856022010091552010-04-20T11:31:00.010+01:002010-04-20T14:56:45.342+01:00

The cherry tree outside our house has a magnificent blossom this year. On a bright day, it's so luminous it looks like a photo taken on infra-red film. I love that tree. I'm always alert for council blokes in hi-viz vests who might want to chop it down to 'improve' the pavement. All that pollen played havoc with my hay fever last saturday as I converted Bella, my 1974 Vespa Sprint Veloce from a

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-45765638694212814482010-04-14T11:32:00.008+01:002010-04-14T15:06:00.366+01:00

So - farewell then, Supergrass. One of the best bands of the last three decades has chucked in the towel after 17 years. They never really became household names like other so-called Britpop bands Blur and Oasis, but for my money they were best of the lot. They were a classic British group with hints of the Kinks, The Faces, Humble Pie, the Stones and even Madness and early Adam And The Ants. I

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-72158335733496585402010-04-08T22:52:00.016+01:002010-04-17T23:07:48.262+01:00

I'm getting bored with trying to find a consistently good pub in Barnstaple or Bideford. I've been visiting what are now my in-laws for the best part of 20 years. I still haven't found what I'm looking for, though I'll probably keep searching. I've even brought my down old Specialized Hardrock (above, on Westward Ho beach last week) so In the future I can explore the more remote pubs.Take

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-6079411123590639212010-03-29T16:21:00.019+01:002010-04-01T13:46:46.222+01:00

And so it ends. If this was The X Factor i'd say I'd been on a journey.33) Acorn Blonde (cask): Very pale with intense hop whiffs. Loads of orange and citrus tang. Long dry hoppy finish (though my lasting memory of this is of it being sweet). Great.34) Phoenix Spooky Brew (cask): Dark gold with a tight head. Coffee flavours up front with tangy toffee and bitter malt. Well balanced with a dark,

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-44990341213814363882010-03-26T13:26:00.008Z2010-03-26T16:47:29.850Z

A lot of places back home pride themselves on serving up 'Yorkshire Portions' - you'll see it proclaimed on blackboards outside pubs and cafes. It's one reason we Tykes are so big and strong. And fat.However, I've never seen anything like this monster, served up last week when my mum and dad were at the Bay Horse in Brandon, near Durham.Your move, Yorkshire.

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-21761863308387030122010-03-25T11:15:00.010Z2010-03-25T14:01:03.721Z

I don't know much about cider, but I know what I like. When I'm at the in-laws in Devon it's pretty common to find a barrel of a very local and often nameless cider in some of the more remote pubs. It's always delicious, and the equal or better of anything I've had in France. Then there's the more common 'consumer' stuff like Gwatkins, Dunkerton's and Aspall, Chucklehead, Winkleigh... there's a

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-90709759379215499562010-03-18T10:53:00.008Z2010-03-18T13:35:14.528Z

When they're not burning Popes, they make a mean pint in Lewes. Harvey's Sussex Best Bitter is a classic English ale, made with love in their handsome steampunk brewery. On the rare occasions I've seen it as a guest up North, it's the only beer I've asked to be served unsparkled. It's a permanent fixture at the Harp and at the Market Porter in Borough, near to where I work. There are worse ways

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-83546256582544821652010-03-12T14:41:00.010Z2010-03-12T15:10:59.009Z

Warning. Graphic design related humour.

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-39370318213005816922010-03-10T14:32:00.006Z2010-03-10T14:39:07.438Z

Snapped near work. I wonder what the story behind this heartfelt message is?

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-66996253231091244862010-03-09T14:18:00.007Z2010-03-30T10:36:34.257+01:00

Almost there.28) Orkney Red MacGregor (cask): A real tangy mouthful, lots of bitterness and zip. The colour of black tea that's been stewing for a couple of hours. Darkly fruity nose.29) White Horse Village Idiot (cask): Colour of light straw with a tight creamy head and a frothy crown. Summery citrus nose with light hops and a gentle bitter finish.30) Titanic - Another Pint In The Wall: (cask)

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-189066761056888031.post-15012029068854109962010-03-08T14:54:00.006Z2010-03-08T16:18:23.631Z

Leytonstone, home of Ten-Inch Villas is a good place to live. It's affordable, safe, and twenty minutes from the West End. It ain't a fashionable area, but having seen our old locale of Brick Lane go from a characterful backwater of Dickensian streets, leather workshops and artists quietly getting on with life, to a urine-soaked party zone for 25-year-olds with legs like Kermit The Frog, we'll

TIWhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01723235843548373098noreply@blogger.com2