Midlands Pubs

The Fountain Inn at Lower Gornal

2009-05-23T21:29:00.001+01:00

As a seasoned drinker, I have travelled to pubs the length and breadth of England, from the Blue Anchor in the Cornish town of Helston to the Tanners in Alnwick, Northumberland. After striking up a conversation with one or two of the locals, I am often asked from which neck of the woods do I originate. Because of my accent, most probably assume I am from Birmingham. Consequently, when I inform them that I hail from The Black Country, I wonder whether they think I am being a racist. Indeed, over the years more than one person has actually said: "is that where all the blacks come from?" and generally that's the end of the conversation. I am not overtly pious but life is too short to engage with somebody who judges a fellow human being on the colour of their skin.

On a recent trip to York, I called into the Loyal Trooper Inn at South Anston for a pint and a spot of lunch. Unfortunately, the pub bore propping up the counter latched onto me. I noticed that his accent was from the south. It transpired that he'd taken the 'white flight' by moving to Yorkshire from Essex in order to escape the "hoards of paki's" who had invaded 'his' territory. It was at this point of the conversation that, at the time, I thought it would be a good idea to educate this bigoted plonker rather than be out-and-out rude. So I told him that my Irish father had moved to England after the war and as such, like many who leave their homeland, was an economic migrant. I was trying to underline the point that I was myself a child of an immigrant but, because I have white skin, he wanted to engage in a conversation with me. Conversely, if I had been the child of an immigrant with brown skin, he would simply have muttered something under his breath before launching into a tirade on my departure. As suspected beforehand, I was wasting my time. I suspect that, rather than think about the world in a different way, he would rather subject the bar staff to his predictable ranting.

Anyway, back to the Black Country. If you are not familiar with the Black Country as a reference to part of the Midlands region, plonk the word Cradley Heath in your Google search box and the map will show you the locale with which I am most accustomed. A good summary of the term can be found at http://www.blackcountrysociety.co.uk/aboutbcs.htm which explains how, due to round-the-clock metal bashing, the region was literally 'black by day and red by night.' When Queen Victoria passed through the Black Country on the Royal Train, she was said to cry "Shut the bloody curtains."

It was the industrial nature of the area, along with the prospect of jobs, that brought immigrants to the Black Country. My father's move roughly coincided with the arrival of the Empire Windrush from the Caribbean. However, unlike Dudley and West Bromwich, Cradley Heath and Old Hill had very few black people, most 'foreign' settlers originated from India and Pakistan. My first experience of these people was, as a young teenager, helping out in my mum's second-hand furniture shop. Coming from a culture where extended bargaining was the norm, it was highly entertaining to witness the haggling over which the price of a dining table was settled. We would deliver the goods to houses in the locality and were always warmly welcomed, often with a strong cup of tea. It was a period of great enlightenment for me.

So where does all this fit in with a pub review for Lower Gornal? Well, in some parts of the Black Country the sight of immigrants, whether they be first or third generation, is clearly manifest in places like Lye and Walsall. However, there are seemingly some areas where you hardly see any 'black' or 'brown' people. I have shared this observation with friends over a pint and most agree that Gornal seems to be a white stronghold. A few years ago I remember a publican in Gornal joking that the Spills Meadow had been taken over by a black licensee and that "he'd never last in Gornal" which sadly proved to be the case. In fact, an ever braver move was the former chemist who took over the old Green Dragon and converted the place into a vegetarian restaurant specialising in cuisine based around Pashtunwali philosophy. In Gornal I ask you? Actually, it was fantastic while it lasted. We could enjoy a fantastic buffet meal and then walk to the nearby Britannia Inn for a couple of pints of Batham's Bitter over which we set the world straight. Alas, the proprietor found that the real world, or the world that is Gornal, is not receptive to such fangled ideas of Ezaat and Roogha.

We cycled to the Fountain Inn and relaxed our muscles and recharged our batteries in the beer garden with a selection of beers from nine real ales on offer. Also relaxing in the garden was the gaffer Alan Davis who, along with his partner Amy, have fashioned a model of how to develop and maintain a successful business. Taking over the Fountain Inn during November 1998, they have gradually nurtured the pub into what many would describe as a cash cow. But cash cows don't grow on trees and invariably require a tremendous amount of hard work. Alan and Amy have put in the hours and could teach the odd Calvinist a few things about grafting.

The couple had previously kept The Waterfall in Old Hill and, in a matter of five years, had turned it into an incredibly busy traditional pub. Alan and Amy however didn't own The Waterfall so the dream of running their own place was realised here in Lower Gornal. When they took over the keys of the Fountain Inn, the pub had been closed for several months and needed a complete overhaul. Alan and Amy set themselves the target of five weeks to completely refurbish the place and, doing most of the work themselves, opened in time for Christmas.

Over the years, the couple have extended and improved the Fountain Inn. In 2001 a new dining area was created and called "The Pen." Alan and Amy didn't miss the opportunity to celebrate the opening of the new extension because they held a beer festival to mark the occasion. The old pub itself, a building dating back to the mid-19th century, has been opened out into one room. This is one element of the pub for which I have a little regret but at least there is some compensation with the rich variety of historical information adorning the walls. The music can also be somewhat intrusive but Alan and Amy cater for their target audience who seem to find the levels within acceptable limits. For me, the best music policy is John Cage's 4'33" played by David Tudor.

The Fountain Inn offers five regular beers: Enville Ale, RCH Pitchfork, Hook Norton Old Hooky, Greene King Abbot Ale and Hobson's Town Crier. These are augmented by four rotating guest ales. On this visit we enjoyed Salopian Hop Twister, Hambleton Stud, Wye Valley H.P.A. and Stonehenge Eye Opener. Three mainstream draught Belgian beers are served along with a small selection of bottled ales making the choice of drinks more varied than most Black Country boozers. A full menu is available for much of the day though anyone tempted to feed the labrador any more titbits is likely to find the poor thing exploding.

Having enjoyed a agreeable session in the pub's garden, we headed home. We took the more scenic route along the towpath of the Dudley Canal but encountered a group of people who had clearly been drinking cheap lager and cider all afternoon and were the antithesis of any Pashtunwali morality. One man wearing a Wolves football shirt was comatose and lying prostrate across the path, thus blocking our route. He had to be dragged across the dirt by his screaming wife whilst the others, all completely inebriated, chuckled into their tins. It was sobering to think that, although Asian people are thin on the ground in Gornal, you do not see them anywhere behaving like the white lumpenproletariat.

The Anchor at Caunsall

2009-05-10T19:25:00.002+01:00

Believe me, it's the latest must-have gadget. And it doesn't even require batteries. Moreover, it is guaranteed to have your neighbours drooling with envy. All you have to do is dangle a fir cone on a bit of string and erect it in a suitable spot around the home. The prognostication is much more reliable than the weather forecast on which trillions have been spent. Imagine how much all those satellite images cost? And even if you’re an apostle of the deity that is Rob McElwee you can save yourself half an hour’s twaddle, by the end of which it is probably raining anyway.

Rain was forecast for today so imagine our delight when we awoke to sunshine last seen on a cornflake box as a five year-old. The bicycles were duly wheeled out of the garage along with a new contraption - the chariot. When our boxer dog was a young whippersnapper she used to trot along with us but, with advancing years, she fondly remembers all those adverts featuring Thora Hird and the iconography of the Stanner stairlift.

In reality it was the guilt of leaving her at home that got me clicking on e-bay for a suitable conveyance for her. And so, she sat regally in her Royal Carriage as I laboured the pedals into Stourbridge. The destination today was The Anchor at Caunsall, a pub we hadn’t frequented for a couple of years.

The more traditional and spectacular way to get to Caunsall is along the Staffordshire and Worcestershire Canal; the stretch from Stourton to Cookley is possibly the most beautiful in the country. However, just for a change we took the old Roman Road from Wollaston to Iverley because Libby the boxer could have a decent undisturbed trot out of the chariot. The path follows the route forged by the Romans from Greensforge Camp to Droitwich.

At High Lodge Farm we took the old Kidderminster to Stourbridge road called Sugar Loaf Lane, a nice quiet stretch down to Five Ways. The contours on my Ordnance Survey map looked fairly innocent but the drop down to the canal and River Stour was alarming - only in the sense that what goes down must come back up! Oh well, we can worry about that after our beer, that will hopefully act as some sort of anaesthetic.

We anticipated that The Anchor would be busy - it generally is most lunchtimes - but, by heck, it was well and truly rammed. The pub was full, the car park was full and the outdoor benches were full. Well almost, by good timing we managed to nab a couple of seats as another couple were leaving. Did I forget to mention the embarrassment of turning up with a dog in a chariot? A source of great amusement to those drinking outside the pub.

The Anchor is an excellent village boozer that has been run by the same family for around 80 years - we’re talking serious continuity here. And yet most of today's modern marketing gurus would probably fail to identify what makes this pub so special. Whilst they try to introduce new corporate concepts into their chains of pubs, The Anchor just keeps on doing what it's been doing for donkeys years - serving well kept beer and cider, along with legendary cobs and butties. There’s no fancy menu here - just simple provender for the drinker.

It was whilst drinking what was a perfect - and I mean perfect - pint of Hobson's Bitter that I imagined local publicans coming here on a reconnoiter and asking themselves “what is it about this place that makes it such a cash cow?” But if they are asking this question then they haven’t really sussed out what makes a good pub. And if they really did look around they’d notice a few salient points - no music, no makeover, no nonsense. Oh, and a publican that makes you feel welcome.

And if you carefully look around the pub you’d notice young drinkers, middle aged couples, pensioners, the odd village nutter, real ale buffs and hairy bikers. If you want to witness a good cross-section of the British public just come to The Anchor for a pint. The crowd are as disparate as those who attend a family gathering. And this is part of the key to a good British boozer. Ian Marchant once wrote something along the lines that a pub should almost be an extension of your living room. The Anchor has this unique characteristic.

The history of The Anchor can be traced back to the early part of the 19th century during the halcyon days of Caunsall and Cookley's industrial growth and it has remained one of the most popular pubs in the village throughout the succeeding years. Today, the place is owned and run by Pete and Jeanette Green who are clearly an institution cherished by the regulars who pack into this two-roomed boozer. As hosts they are of the old school and make everyone feel both welcome and at home.

There isn't a thing that Pete doesn't know about the pubs of Cookley and Caunsall. He spent a lot of his youth here at The Anchor because his grandfather kept the pub for many years. He grew up in the Red Lion which his dad, Jim Green, ran for thirty years and he even spent a short spell as the gaffer at The Eagle and Spur for a couple of months.

Essentially, The Anchor has two rooms - a large bar and lounge combination to the right of the building and a small snug to the left. In here you’ll find plenty of interest on the walls, including an invoice dated 1939 made out to Pete's grandfather for the pub's tables and chairs. You'll get an idea of how inflation has risen over the years - the oak tables were just over £2 each. And guess what? The pub still has the same tables. The most intriguing item on display in the lounge is a huge onion in a wall inset, a legacy of when the village used to hold an onion competition in which the folk of Cookley and Caunsall would try to outgrow each others onions. The one on display here however is not quite what it seems. It was made by a villager in 1944 with both metal and wood before being coated in the outer layers of an onion. It's just one of the many stories that you will learn here so be brave and try and speak to some of the locals.

It was on a previous visit to The Anchor that I saw something that will endure in the memory bank. It was Pete doing his 'rounds', sharing an amusing story with everyone and bursting into laughter every now and then. Here is a publican who loves his pub and his customers. He's a national treasure.

Hare and Hounds at Wollescote

2009-04-20T21:24:00.003+01:00

We headed out for a cycle ride today. All a bit routine really, just to get some miles in whilst enjoying a few sights around the area. We weren’t really planning a stop at a pub but after cycling up to Careless Green from Pedmore, and with the sun being the hottest of the year so far, the sight of the Hare and Hounds was such a welcome sight that it would have been silly not to stop for a quick pint. The fact that it afforded us a rest midway up the ancient route from Kinver to Cradley was an added bonus. Brook Holloway is not for the faint-hearted.

The Hare and Hounds is a pub of some antiquity and probably dates from the late 18th century. The building’s name conveys images of sporting pursuits when the area was completely rural. Indeed, although the building now serves a large inter-war housing estate, the countryside is still only a cask hammer’s throw away. From here, it is possible to enjoy rambles across Foxcote and Wychbury Hill where there is an obelisk overlooking the village of Hagley. Indeed, Hagley folk joke that the obelisk, leaning quite precariously these days, was stuck up for no reason and is slightly bent! And it’s true that I know a few people who live in Wollescote who tend to tell folks that they live in Pedmore as they like to elevate their social standing, not to mention of course the fact that it might add a few quid to their property value.

The interior of the Hare and Hounds has been fiddled with over the years by Wolverhampton and Dudley Breweries who have owned the building since I can remember. There are fragments of the old place still evident, none more so that the inglenook fireplace that once roasted the cockles of many a cold agricultural labourer in the late Georgian era. The area around the inglenook is occasionally used by the local pigeon club, a sporting institution that has been based here for generations. Quarry-tiled floors are the order of the day in what is a good drinking environment.

I imagine that Wolverhampton and Dudley Breweries, now known as Marston’s, are still the owners as Banks’s beer is the mainstay of the pub. However, the acquisition of other regional breweries by Marston’s has allowed a selection of guest ales to be offered from other parts of the country. Licensee Robert Hill and his partner Amy, who have been running the place for a couple of years, have embraced this change and, on this visit, were offering a couple of beers from Jennings of Cockermouth.

Although we live in what is the stronghold of the Banks’s Bitter empire, we find it hard to find a really decent pint of the stuff. Few publicans can seemingly keep and serve it properly. However, when it’s on form it can be a beer that delivers a fair deal of pleasure. So, it was the Banks’s we ordered - with a chaser of Jennings just to have a bit of regional variety. So, with slightly aching limbs we parked ourselves and tried the Banks’s. Now I know that we were thirsty and gagging for a pint but, believe me, this was the best example of Banks’s Bitter that I have tasted for at least a decade. It was THAT good. And just to check we had some more. Perfect. The Jennings beer we tried was Golden Host, a clean, easy drinking beer with a light golden colour. And, just as the brewery’s tasting notes suggest, it had a full-bodied flavour and pronounced hop character. This beer was also served in perfect condition. John and Amy deserve some sort of gong or plaque because when beer is this good it makes you feel glad to be alive.

The Crown at Oldswinford

2009-04-04T18:45:00.001+01:00

We went to see the show business legend, raconteur, and lecturer extraordinaire, Count Arthur Strong, at Stourbridge Town Hall last weekend. What a legend [see http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EwJzgJd5KhU] for a clip of him.

As a regular imbiber and patron of his local, the Shoulder of Mutton, the Count would have approved of us having a pint after the show. So, on the way home we decided to nip into The Crown at Oldswinford, a pub that we hadn’t visited for, well, almost a decade. Why such a long gap I simply do not know because it was a nice little boozer way back then, and one that served Batham’s Bitter.

Sadly, the Batham's has departed from the counter but there can be no complaining about beer choice as they had seven beers available, including Greene King Abbot Ale, Charles Wells Bombardier, Deuchars IPA, Greene King IPA, Timothy Taylor Landlord Bitter and Jennings Golden Host. Emma had a pint of the latter which she enjoyed. It seemed more chestnut than golden to us but it had quite a full bodied flavour with a gentle hop character. I had some Timothy Taylor Landlord Bitter which was served at a nice temperature and well kept. So, good news on the beer front.

As for the pub, it has had a few minor adjustments but still has the legacy of its days as a Holt, Plant and Deakin outlet. Consequently, it is a very cosy place with a real fire. There were a good mix of customers from around 25-65 age range. Some were reading the broadsheets, others were playing dominoes whilst the rest, including us, enjoyed a natter without the disturbance of music. Hooray. For smokers there is a trendy patio area out back on which, it would seem, the tenant[s] have invested a fair sum.

The Crown seems to be run by women and, in my experience, this generally makes for a better place. We won’t be waiting another decade to enjoy this little pub nugget on the edge of Stourbridge.

The Green Man at Swindon

2009-04-04T09:31:00.000+01:00

It’s official. It’s April, the clocks have gone forward so it must be time to inflate the tyres, oil the chain, and roll out the bicycles for another season of pub tours on two wheels.

With the world as your oyster, where do you go? Well, we decided on a canalside pub that we visit occasionally just because, well, we like it. So the Green Man at Swindon was our target. It is a round-trip of 28.13 kilometres [thanks to MapMyWalk.com] so probably just about the right distance for a first-of-the-season ride.

Living in the Black Country does not necessarily mean that cycle routes are grim affairs that pass through post-industrial landscapes. With a bit of careful planning they can be very pleasant sojourns. We passed through Mushroom Green, Saltwells Wood and The Leys section of the Black Country Forest before heading down the Dudley Canal to Wordsley Junction before picking up the Kingswinford Cycle Route and out to Swindon along the Smestow Valley.

Located just a few yards from the Staffordshire and Worcester Canal, The Green Man is a fine old village pub. It is run by a friendly couple, Alan and Raye Payne. To many folk, it would seem quite an ordinary pub but to me and Emma it has that certain intangible character that makes it a very pleasant place to spend a couple of hours.

And it is this ‘grey’ area that has drinkers arguing on what really is a good pub. We met some friends at the Green Man but they fail to see what it is we like about this place. For me, there is some sentimentality because the Green Man is pretty much like many Banks’s pubs that I frequented as a young drinker in the 1970’s. Most of these old boozers have closed and the one’s that have survived have been ruined with subsequent refits and refurbishments.

Of course, the sort of pub interior I am remembering fondly was a product of the Banks’s and Hanson’s homogeneity ushered in during the late 1950's and throughout the 1960’s. It was probably because the breweries used their own in-house decorators that they tended to be refurbished in a similar fashion. Quarry tiles, leather benches, simple tables with a dartboard up the corner. This is the pub I was familiar with in the last days of the industrial Black Country.

But those days are gone and most of the pubs have been updated to suit the Ikea generation. And so was born the makeover pub movement. So I guess it is the ‘unspoilt by progress’ character of the Green Man’s bar that makes me feel contented. The room still has a quarry tiled floor, leather bench seats and a real fire at the end of the room. The bar has both a dartboard and a permanent fixture for the game of Quoits, an increasingly rare feature in pubs these days. Bar Skittles was restored in 2002 - another rare pub game in the 21st century. We’re not that fussed about the rest of the pub - it is the bar that is the main attraction, a room for drinking and chat. A place where dogs are welcome and locals hang out without making the ‘stranger’ feel uncomfortable.

The other key component of the Green Man is the beer. I have not had a bad pint in here. Indeed, it’s generally spot on. We were lucky to arrive just as a new barrel of Banks’s Bitter went on sale and it was superb. With so many new-fangled beers on offer around the region, it is not that often that I drink this old chestnut, but this is one place where I can reminisce about days when this was just about the only beer available in Cradley Heath. Of course, this would not be possible if the beer was served in poor condition, though thinking about it, that may be how to remember some of those old industrial boozers where the slops were probably filtered back into the cask. But the Green Man serves good Banks’s beer so it is possible to sup your ale with rose-tinted spectacles. They do sell a guest ale here and with a new cask of Jennings Cocker Hoop being put on sale, we gave this a whirl after several pints of Banks’s. The Cockermouth-brewed beer was in excellent form too.

A most enjoyable session. The only criticism is the 1970’s music. I don’t remember music in here before and I’m not one for background noise as it is just not necessary in a pub. And I certainly didn’t need to hear Golden Earring’s “Radar Love” again in my life. Good grief, I thought we’d turned that corner. But this aside, I can most heartily recommend this canalside pub. Talking of which, has any boaters or bargees called in here for victuals? I would like to hear your experiences of the food and hospitality.

Birmingham Pub Crawl

2009-03-22T18:54:00.000Z

Accompanied by my brother-in-law Rob, I enjoyed a meander around some of Birmingham's pubs yesterday. It's not often that I drink in Brum and I'd heard that a few of the less desirable boozers had been transformed. Consequently, I planned a route that avoided many of the usual drinking establishments noted for their real ale. I like my traditional beer but Rob, having been brought up in the beer desert that is Rednal, tends to drink horrible things like Carlsberg and Guinness. However, yesterday he decided to enter into the spirit of things and chose to drink from the handpulls.

I arranged to meet Rob at the Tony Hancock memorial in the Old Square, once the location of the Bull Tavern and later the Saracen's Head, one of Birmingham's legendary coaching houses trading in the 17th century. Hancock himself had spent some of his childhood in a pub, for his parents kept the Railway Hotel in Bournmouth. I sat on the plinth and was horrified to see Rob approaching with a shopping trolley. Living and working in Birmingham, Rob has always been a patron of public transport and was using the trolley to convey a present he'd bought for his mum as it was Mother's Day in the morning. Fair enough. However, I did have to point out to Rob, uninitiated in the culture of Tickers and Ticking, that these much-maligned creatures are often seen in pubs with their shopping trolleys of beer bottles and funnels. And here we were, about to embark on a pub crawl accompanied by a shopping trolley.

As we walked to the Gun Quarter, I had to bring Rob up to speed with the true sadness of the ticking culture. Such is the innocence of my brother-in-law, it was like trying to explain to an eight year-old where babies come from. And his face was similarly disfigured when I tried to elucidate the ticker's heinous drinking behaviour. Fully briefed, Rob and I arrived at the Bull in Price Street to find it closed. Not a good start to our pub crawl. I know that they don't bother to open up on Sundays, but I have been in here on a Saturday when it was open all day. However, it would seem that Saturday's have also suffered from similar apathy. Can't blame Rose and the girls - there ain't too many people wandering the streets of the Gun Quarter at the weekend.

We headed towards Snow Hill station to have a drink in the Old Contemptibles. Located on the corner of Edmund Street and Livery Street, the imposing red-brick building was erected in the late 19th century as the Albion Hotel, though a pub known as the Adelphi Wine Vaults had existed on this location for donkey's years. The current building was re-named the Old Contemptibles in 1953 as the pub was a popular haunt for men who had served in the First World War. The name is thought to have been applied to the French by Kaiser Wilhelm II but the British Expeditionary Force adopted it for themselves. The Old Contemptibles was a terrible pub at the turn of the 21st century. It was filthy, sold dregs and served dregs. It was possibly the worst pub in Birmingham so it was probably a relief when it closed in 2005. Thankfully, someone saw the potential of this once-great establishment and gave the place a new lease of life. I realise that some of the interior re-working will not please the architectural puritans but it is great to see this pub back on the map.

The Old Contemptibles seems to serve three regular beers that includes Madonna's favourite tipple of Timothy Taylor Landlord Bitter. They also have three guest ales and the handpull pump clips are also accompanied by tasting notes. I have only seen this useful feature in one other pub - the one I used to run! One of the beers was Trashy Blonde from the much talked-about Brewdog Brewery of Scotland. We ordered a couple of pints and parked ourselves in two large leather chairs, the sort from which the sozzled barrister, Rowley Birkin QC, used to spin his yarns of adventure in the Fast Show. The Trashy Blonde was like snogging a hop monster. Imagine diving in a vat of beer and then someone tipping a cartload of hops on your head. Great stuff. The best British hoppy beer I have tasted in ages. It was a great start for my beer novice brother-in-law - he thought it was fantastic. We were only supposed to stay in each pub for one drink but who needs a rulebook when you're having a great time. We stayed for two refills which came with Ken Barlow glasses - the old pimple glasses with handles last seen in this part of Brum in the 1970's when Meg Richardson sold her soul to the devil in The Crossroads Motel.

One thing that the rulebook always states is that when you've had a couple of beers your belly starts to rumble. No problem as the OC's serves food all day. The sausage butties are served on Ciabatta bread and come with chips and salad - and all for £3.95. It's an odd world in which you can buy lunch for just over the price of a pint. The beer in the Old Contemptibles was priced at £2.75 regardless of strength. However, this means a bargain can be had. I later chatted to Nigel Barker, gaffer of the Wellington in Bennetts Hill and he told me that when they stocked the Trashy Blonde they had to charge £3.40. Enjoyed by all age groups, the OC's had a great atmosphere and we could have stayed for the day. Just as we were about to leave Rob spotted someone drinking a pint of green liquid. I simply had to ask what it was. Turns out that it was Sign of Spring, a beer produced by Stonehenge Ales. The chap supping it let me have a sip and it was rather nice. But it really is a weird coloured drink - click here to see what I'm talking about. I thought I could sniff a herby coriander vibe but I could be imagining this with the colour doing strange things to my senses.

We had a swift Wye Valley beer in the Wellington [now fitted with dartboard] before heading over to Gas Street Basin to see what beer was on offer in the Canalside Cafe. Housed in a former lock-keeper's cottage, this is one of the more unusual drinking dens in Brum. As its name suggests, it is more of a cafe than a pub but they always have a couple of beers from a microbrewery. With a pleasant interior of trees and wicker furniture and serving veggie fodder, the cafe is favoured by bohemians and free spirits. As something of an ersatz iconoclast, I really like the place.

We strolled along the canal to to an establishment that is somewhat contrapositive. The trendy Penny Blacks was showing the Ireland vs Wales rugby showdown and seemed the best place to enjoy some Church End "What The Foxes Hat." This was priced at the very trendy price of £3 - why bother stocking the till with copper and silver when you can round things up for the punters? This is the most expensive beer I have bought in Brum. The rugby was great and, as you can tell from my name, I think the best team won. They've really deserved their first Grand Slam since 1948 as they have played the best throughout the series. The beer, incidentally, was very good and they always seem to sell a couple of Church End beers, a Warwickshire brewery that I really like.

And to finish off the day [we'd been out since 1.30pm] we ventured across to The Victoria, another pub that is enjoying something of a renaissance and now stocking beers from the Herefordshire brewery of Wye Valley. However, Rob ordered the Purity ale which he loved. I had the Wood's Wonderful, a lovely ruby-coloured beer clocking in at 4.8%. The beer was so good we stayed for three pints. As Clint Eastwood once said "everyone's got to know their limitations" and having drunk much more than we should have done, we toddled off towards the train station.

It was a superb day out in Birmingham which has suddenly become a very nice place to drink. Who'd have said that in the 1980's? It was then that the real ale revival kicked in with the Anchor, Lamp Tavern and Prince of Wales leading the way. Over the years, others have joined in the party. The takeover of the Barton's Arms by Oakham Ales and the Old Joint Stock by Fuller's were important developments. However, it was the launch of the Wellington that seems to have been the stimulus for further real ale entrepreneurial flair and adventure. For example, the Mackem who bought the Lord Clifden in Great Hampton Street is now running the Red Lion in Warstone Lane and has brought real ale back into the heart of the Jewellery Quarter. Things are certainly better than ever in Birmingham.