Seed Blog

I’ve always said I work better on tight deadlines. I’ve never really planned out the work I do, preferring to let it just happen, and then I tidy up afterwards. Fill in the gaps. Delete the pure, excruciating passages where I actually say what I mean.

Learning another language has shown me that preparation is just as awful as I feared, but that forcing myself to do it gets me the results I crave. I want to be fluent in Spanish more than I think I’ve ever wanted anything else in my life. Don’t be alarmed: I always feel this way about my Projects. I’m incredibly thankful that I seem to be clinging to this one — they usually drift off into the night somewhere around the three month mark never to be seen again.

Two weeks ago I saw The Cure in Glasgow, and the whole show was flawless. Especially so was Disintegration, which shimmered with sad, bright catharsis and a tight, compelling energy that drove and drove and drove. You’d never have believed they’ve been playing it for as long as I’ve been alive.

At the end, Robert was grinning and breathless, and he smiled and waved to the (inevitably tear-stained) crowd and said,

“That was a good Disintegration. They aren’t always great, but I really, really enjoyed that one.”

He blew my mind. It means even he feels like his best isn’t good enough sometimes. It means even after more than 30 years, he finds joy in something he’s made, something he’s still doing. It means that perhaps constant practice doesn’t kill off spontaneity — it can make you better, give you strength, enable you to find and explore new ways to express yourself. I’ve been thinking about it ever since.

Other Stuff

• This minidoc on the incredible women challenging sexism and changing Roda de Samba forever is stunning. It’s dark, brutal and unforgiving, but it’s incredibly enlightening and inspiring too. The link above takes you to an interview with director Tobias Nathan in which the whole film is embedded. I was going to make this week’s whole newsletter about this one thing. I might still do that at a later date.
  “To exist is to defy.”
  “Joy is also a beautiful part of the human condition.”
  [CW: There are scenes of and descriptions of violence throughout, and there’s a v. short clip that includes animal slaughter around the 1min 30s mark FYI]

• I loved this beautiful and refreshingly down-to-earth look at the Garfagnana by Craig Ballinger, especially the Irn Bru in the window of the alimentari. And the photography is just gorge. So beautifully sun-drenched.

• In his fuming Medium piece, Miles Leibtag isn’t fucking sick of craft beer culture, whatever that is, he’s fucking sick of anti-intellectualism. And he’s got some ideas on how to solve the problem too, he’s not just yelling into the sky! I am exceptionally here for it. His best advice? “Stop treating people like the mouth breathing simpletons they are, and start treating them like the pedantic assholes they could be.”

My Stuff

• This week my story about Rivington Brewing Co. was published on Pellicle — a brewery close to my heart, and close to my home.

• I was going through past pieces for… a thing, and I came across The Knack Of Snacks, a piece I wrote when I was clearly very much still missing being in León (when am I not?), and very hungry indeed.

• Just filed a couple of pieces I’m super pleased with, so you’ll be getting to see them soon I hope.

• Question: If I collated some of my favourite older pieces into a zine or two, would you buy them? Just something to ruminate on.

Charlie Watley for Pellicle

The thing I always loved about clubs was how easy it felt to slip away into my own world.

In a recent documentary on the BBC about dance music culture (it’s a series called Can You Feel It, and you need to see it all), clubs are shown as vital centres of art and expression. They are places where people come together. They are the vibrant soul of the underground, tethering kindred spirits to each other, binding a community with deep, unspoken words reverberating under an ever-evolving progression of beats. 

For me, they were something else too. In the midst of a crowded room, swathed in darkness, eyelids blessed with strobes, sight obscured by smoke, I could be alone. The music was mine, and here, I could worship it. In a noisy world, in the loudest places, I found a nucleus of calm and when I danced, or raised my arms, or closed my eyes, I wasn’t thinking of who might see me. The music was moving me. I was in my place.

[This rumination was brought to you by the BBC Radio 6 all day rave]

Other stuff:

• The Amazon rainforest is burning and it feels like there’s nothing we can do about it. Here are some tiny actions you can take which could make a little bit of difference: Sign this petition, change your search engine to Ecosia and support The Rainforest Trust. The Rainforest trust allocates 100% of all project donations to their causes.

• This from new mag Caña on Antwerp’s vibrant graphic design scene made me want to go there.

• The history of Fabric, as told by the club’s photographers.

• I love reading about far away places, and Palmerston atoll couldn’t really get much further away. 

• Animator and artist Jorge R Gutierrez grew up believing that Skeletor was a dia de los muertos superhero in Mexico City and I can’t stop thinking about how much better that show would have been than He Man.

• This article goes on a bit, but the idea that I’m not alone in rewatching crap TV when I could/should be doing something else is comforting.

• The beer world suffers from the same ailment as the music industry, in that people don’t know how to say “I don’t like/agree with that” instead of “that’s shit.” Boak and Bailey pray for sanity 

• I’m devouring everything I can about wine at the moment and this post by Wine Folly on wine flavours, human perception and cognition really hit the spot.

My stuff:

• I’ve been exceptionally busy this week but I’m not sure anything I’ve done has been published yet so here are a couple of past pieces to read in case you missed them first time round:

• Cask comeback? In the North it never went away.

• A Sense of Belonging – how pubs can tackle the loneliness epidemic

• I’m restarting my restaurant reviews next week after a short break.

• Tonight I’m in Manchester hosting a Beer52 tasting session. Should be good fun!

• This means I’m in Manchester Friday-daytime. Recommend me somewhere to take Tom for a bretted saison he won’t be disappointed with.

Danny Seaton // Fabric

I’m having one of those weeks where the time under my feet keeps rolling up and getting caught in the door.

It’s awards season in the beer world, so I thought I’d give myself something to celebrate — a look back on my achievements. Word to the wise: don’t do this if you’re in a depressive slump. This newsletter isn’t about depression, don’t worry. There’s nothing duller than reading about mental health without context or emotional weight. Depression is boring, and totally flat, and it pretends to have depth by trawling the past for the oil-spill iridescence that coats old wounds, giving them an exotic sheen in the dark, making them easier to find among the cold, damp furriness of forgotten times.

Hey, maybe this is about depression.

Anyway, I’ve done my week of morbidity. I know the next move is to make plans for the immediate future, no matter how much I’d rather do literally anything else, so that’s what I’m doing. Autumn is coming. It’s breath is already felt around here, if you look at the fattening blackberries and the colour of the leaves, and the scudding black clouds and the brownly-brackening moors. I’m not swooping straight into winter this year. I’m planning an autumn, packed with things that celebrate the darker seasons rather than dread them, and I hope you’ll join me in doing so too. Make SAD your obedient whippet this year.

Other stuff:

• First of all, this piece by Matt Curtis for Pellicle is so warm and delicately burnished and full of gentle joy. It’s also about perfect cask beer, so who couldn’t fall in love with it, really?

• The Leeds Beer Scene, in the words of those who rule it. A great piece by Boak and Bailey.

• The Irish Hip Hop Scene is having a moment.

• Deliciously in-depth writing about Mediterranean fruit and veg by Bianca Pascall.

• Warmly confrontational writing about pop-up dining that brings native culture into the Californian dining conversation. “Diners should go, not only to eat, but to listen.”

• God I loved this, by Amanda Mull for The Atlantic. “America has never been so desperate for tomato season.”

• This piece on pruning grape vines from is evocative and terrifying, given that I’m going to be working in a vineyard soon.

• Masashi Shimakawa’s beautiful illustrations of street scenes can put me out of commission for half-hours at a time.

My stuff:

• I wrote about the Isle of Man TT races for Ferment magazine, something I loved as a kid, then left behind, and have begun to love again. It’s also about beer and pubs, in case you were worried I’d gone totally off-piste. (Ignore the subheading — it’s a problem with the site.)

• I set up a website last year called North West Beer, and as much as I loved putting it together, it just didn’t work for me. Something just didn’t fit — and I’m not just talking about me and the general scene in the area around me. Here’s a piece I wrote about Thwaite’s historic move to Samlesbury last year, which you can read until next month when the site disappears for good.

• I suppose this piece from my blog about a photography exhibition about Thwaite’s Blackburn site matches up quite well with the above. Giving out supplementary reading now, am I? What a nob.

• My latest restaurant review — Thira in Blackburn.

• Torrside came to visit Clitheroe last week (exciting!) and they were welcomed with open arms, which I was happily gobsmacked about, so I wrote a blog post.

• Oh, and this is my 10th newsletter. I will count that as an achievement.

お好み焼き屋 (Okonomiyaki) – Masashi Shimakawa

I’ve been on 12 different trains this week, which is unreasonable given that I moved to the countryside to become a hermit.

Last weekend we went to Blackpool for a piss-up, something I absolutely love doing and have written about before, and my intentions were good. We had a few good pubs in mind. I had a budget to stick to. 

Of course I spent most of the afternoon on North Pier drinking Guinness and black, shrieking with laughter at the haunted organ music and falling out of my deckchair.

Changing tone entirely, on Monday I headed down to London to judge at GBBF and the World Beer Awards. I love judging, I know some people find it a bit of a chore to think deeply and analytically about the beer you’re drinking, but I think it’s great to get everyone debating about what they’re tasting and smelling. I’m still learning too, and you must all know how much I like learning by now. It’s like, my thing.

At GBBF I was really proud to be one of the judges of the Champion Beer of Britain (or the “see-bob” as I was thrilled to find out was the accepted pronunciation of the acronym.)

Afterwards, I spent the afternoon mooching around the festival. I am not one to do things by myself, but I felt totally relaxed and chill in the festival’s environment, and when I did bump into people I knew, it was a happy surprise rather than a relief.

I think that says a lot about the festival itself. I felt safe and welcome, which I know isn’t that much of a big deal for someone like me to say, but I hate feeling awkward, it makes me panic. I just go home. Instead of feeling like a spare part, I lounged around drifting here and there, drinking good beer, taking some pics and having a laugh.  That can’t be a happy accident, given the work that went into improving GBBF in almost every way this year and the steps taken to make everyone feel welcome. In fact, the only time I felt uncomfortable is when photographers kept popping up everywhere to take photos of girls with beers. The CAMRA people at least asked first. Just saying, journos.

The beer was great too — on the whole. I dunno why I always insist on getting a standard pale ale with a ridiculous name every single festival I go to. It never works out well for me.

Other Stuff

• Matt wrote about arguably the best beer in the world and it was probably the most soothing read I read all week.

• This is a really engaging “How to” on visiting Munich, that hits on all the big stuff and makes it sound, above all else, FUN.

• A reading of Rise from Ulverton. It’s a tall tale set in 1803, loose and meandering because it’s in the pub, and they moan about the beer too.

• The energy in this piece about Broaden & Build is totally infectious. Beautiful photography too.

• There is a nice wee article by Steve Lamacq in CAMRA’s Beer magazine (no link, sorry) about the pub being his office — although reports I’ve had prior to this say he’s more of a rum and coke fan. More as this story breaks.

• I really liked this restaurant review. It made me lol.

• Pleasingly perfect mountainscapes made from tinfoil by Yuji Hamada. (Click on “Primal Mountain”)

My Stuff

• I wrote about the TT Races for Ferment magazine because for me, it’s as much to do with beer as it is bikes. 

From “Primal Mountain” by Yuji Hamada

This week the number of people subscribed to this little newsletter more than doubled.

Thank you to everyone who’s signed up, and to everyone who’s recommended others do the same. I’m very surprised (to say the least) that you are choosing to read yet more of my thoughts, but grateful too. This newsletter has become important to me really quickly. If Twitter is me on strawberry laces and Buckfast, I think The Gulp is me on black coffee and Ferrero Rocher.

In other words, the me I wish I was 100% of the time.

I ran a workshop about tone and messaging at The Landmark in Burnley on Tuesday, and it was so far outside of my comfort zone that I made possibly the world’s most convoluted powerpoint presentation to make up for the crushing imposter syndrome I had been experiencing all last week.

It went really well. Even the interactive bits. In the end I was unhappy that I’d managed to complete the whole task well, because it proved that fear is stupid and can be pushed to one side if needs be. It made me wonder how often I’d not bothered to try something new because I was scared.

Anyway, now I can add “public speaking, as long as it’s about something I know back to front, as long as it’s to no more than five people” to my CV now.

—-

In other news, I took my South African auntie to The New Inn in Clitheroe, and she has named it the best pub in the world. So remember that when you’re collating your end of year lists, please.

Other Stuff

• This blog post by Amber LeBeau at The Spit Bucket asks whether wine companies’ marketing inexperience (or reluctance) is actually making it harder for people to say good things about their products.​

• These beautifully murky artworks by Sonia Alins really spoke to me this week. Try not to read too much into that, if you don’t mind. 

• This piece in The Guardian about Black Appalachia covers a powerfully problematic subject with care, and turned my brain inside out for a little bit.

• Kveik yeast as a mythical central element at the heart of a beery Norwegian fairy story. When writing is this good it makes you howl at the moon about how you wish you wrote it. Consider me howling, Claire.

• I loved this by ATJ on saying boo to authenticity, and being your own Bourdain.

• To prove I value and cherish your feedback, here is something about motorbikes: Road racing returned to Oliver’s Mount last weekend, and Dean Harrison won both Classic races, making me very happy. Also John McGuinness and Jamie Whitam rode with Foggy, which made me a bit misty-eyed. If you don’t believe me that this was totes emosh, this piece from Bike Sport News is almost breathless with excitement about the whole thing. Oh go on, here’s a video too. God don’t you just love road racing?

My Stuff

• This week I ate some really good fried chicken in Whalley.

• Nothing published this week by me — look, I’m busy, okay — but here’s something about what makes our beloved pubs so great that I don’t think I shared enough at the time.

• Next week I’ll be in London judging at GBBF and the World Beer Awards. If you’ll be there, give me a shout! I’m going to be in town from Monday afternoon until 7ish on Wednesday, so if you fancy a pint, let me know.

What I’m Drinking

Eyes Brewery x Errant Brewery — Landrace Norwegian IPA

Sonia Alins — work from “Dones d’aigua III”

If you fancy buying me a pint — they are more expensive in London, after all — I’m always incredibly thrilled to receive tips through my KoFi account: www.ko-fi.com/shinybiscuit 

I love food. I would give anything to be the type of person who, when presented with a tray of chargrilled fish eyes thinks, “ooh, great, thanks.” But I’m not.

I’m becoming fascinated with the idea of disgust — how it’s a visceral feeling within you. You don’t just have a distaste. Your body physically recoils, tears fill your eyes, your skin prickles, your throat closes up. That’s true disgust. It’s an amazing reaction. It used to save our lives.

I usually crave salty, fermented, aged, almost-but-not-quite rotten flavours. I love cheeses, cured meats, breads, beers, wines and ciders. I love spice and heat and bitterness. I told myself for so long that I was fussy; a picky eater. As I build up the tasting thesaurus inside my brain, I realise I was just putting cold hard facts before flavour. I was scared of reality, and the grimness of cooked things, rather than my desire for their tastes, and the journeys they would take me on.

So I ate a softshell crab this week. I liked it, but wanted more salt and a lot more heat. I’d tasted it, rather than thought about its body, soft and helpless in its molted state. It doesn’t sound like it, but that’s progress.

Other stuff:

• I think this beautiful, mournful, soaring, heartbreaking essay by CJ Hauser called The Crane Wife has changed how I will write forever.

• I found out about Bangkok’s current fixation with private fine dining experiences while I was reading this relaxed interview with Cristina Bowerman, who has some unique ideas of the “sense of place” everyone’s obsessed with at the mo. Funnily enough, her ideas were a total juxtaposition of what the very polished NYT article about Thai private dining expressed. She said: “I don’t want guests to be able to pinpoint where something is from; it must be an organic whole.” I like that.

• The enthusiasm and excitement Lilian Min has for mangosteens and her wonder at Etsy becoming a marketplace for rare tropical fruits is infectious. The last line was my fave.

• Jonathan Liew is so good, so engaging, that he makes me care about sports. This time: tennis.

• I really liked this piece on natural wine bars and tinned fish from the SFC. It made me hungry and thirsty.

• Take a sec to enjoy these stunning, dremay, angsty photos of teenage Appalachian Ohio by high school students.

I’ve just realised that pretty much all of the above are from American publications. I blame my sudden obsession with east coast immigrant-American cooking and food culture thanks to the film Always Be My Maybe and a fifth rewatch of Ugly Delicious.

My stuff:

• If you didn’t see it already, I wrote about one of my favourite subjects for Ferment mag — how do you know the historically-brewed beer you’re drinking actually tastes like it would have done back then?

• I’m working on a few articles at the moment, but nothing’s been posted up in a while. Check back next week for more updates, I guess.

• I went to a photography class last week run by Matt Curtis (shoutout) and I really enjoyed learning about how looking at photos that inspire us can help us become better photographers. I love the idea that beauty can install itself in you, ready for you to use it at a later date.

ORIGINAL ILLUSTRATION © DANIEL GRAY-BARNETT
I looked through The Crane Wife for a perfect illustration, and it turns out,
this is the only one. I imagined the rest. That’s how good it is.

Sometimes lines from books or songs or TV shows stick in my head like non-musical earworms.

I repeat them to myself for a few days, or longer, like a tiny inconsequential personal mantra. They can be meaningful or, more likely, they are the coked up ramblings of an exhausted scriptwriter cramming in amends of a final draft. Either way they start bouncing around inside my skull and I end up thinking there’s some purpose for them being there, as though I subconsciously highlighted it knowing it was secret wisdom, or a key bit of info that’ll help me through the week ahead.

I suppose that’s why I like horoscopes and tarot cards too. I find it easy and comforting to attach solemnity and deep meaning to things. I have a stone on my windowsill that I picked up from a beach in Eidesfjord nine years ago, because I saw it first out of all the pebbles on that beach, because I was drawn to it, and because I picked it up. Putting it back down was never an option. It lives with me now.

I started watching The Gilmore Girls last week out of boredom and depression and in one episode, a character is explaining the protagonists to another character. He ends the fairly insightful monologue with the line:

“Answer the pepperoni.”

I haven’t been able to get it out of my head ever since.

Other stuff

• Beautiful photos and beautiful writing by Lily Waite about her recent trip to Harbour Brewing, fishing and foraging too.

• Although this on spicy Amburana wood barrels is pretty interesting, especially how makers of pastry stouts are realising how the flavours they seek actually once came from wood rather than adjuncts, I’d love to read more about the tree itself. Hint hint.

• The link between conservationism and fascism is disturbing, and stronger than you think. This on fascists at the farmers’ markets shows where the two cross clearly and with a lot of depth.

• Lithuanian farmhouse yeast. A 70+ year old brewster. A surprise call from the Consulate. What more do you want?

• An interesting piece on burnout — I always read things about burnout — in The Guardian.

• This hugely in-depth deep-dive of a thing on Brian Eno’s Music for Airports. Tracks 2/1 and 1/2 have been broken down into individual loops so you can have a go at creating your own masterpiece. Such a beautiful way to re-explore the album.

My stuff

• Sometimes I get to review 5* meals. Sometimes I get sent to kebab shops.

• How to Become a Beer Podcaster.

• How to Taste Beer.

• A throwback to my bit on beer apps of the future because I like it.

• A bit of news: I’m going to be in London next month to judge at the World Beer Awards and to help judge the Champion Beer Of Britain at the Great British Beer Awards, which I’m really looking forward to! If you’re going, see you there!

St. Ives by Lily Waite for Good Beer Hunting

I’m heading to Manchester Cider Club today, a monthly event organised by the ever-active, always cider-passionate Dick and Cath.

If you live in the North West, or if you visit every now and again, you’ll have heard of Dick and Cath. Two wonderful people, on a self-started mission to make Manchester the cider capital of the world. Or at least, to get Mancunians to drink real cider — no mean feat, given it’s also one of the most staunchly “craft beer” cities in the North. I’m really excited to visit them again, not just because I love them to bits, but because we’ll be tasting some of the most hyped ciders around at the Crown and Kettle, and I’ll get to ask a whole heap of questions. Imagine. Cider is hyped now.

Cider was my first favourite type of alcohol, and I used to be the only person I knew that actually enjoyed it. I once went on a road trip around Herefordshire with my then-boyfriend to visit cideries and get absolutely blitzed in pub garden cider festivals. 

“What are you doing around here?” the locals asked us in every pub we went to.

“We just like cider.” A bit of an underwhelming reply, but it was the truth.

The cider trip (probably in about 2007) was also the first time I learned about brewing, or at least fermenting, and going on the Weston’s tour was the first time I ever stepped inside a large-scale facility. I was fascinated by the whole process of turning juice into cider, and when I got home, I made batches of “turbo cider” out of apple juice and champagne yeast. I bet that tiny flat by Headingley Stadium still has a hole in the ceiling.

Other Stuff

• Manly wedding rings — this article could have been a complete tear-down but instead it’s full of deep questions about masculinity, identity-based marketing and marriage. “Is getting married a not-badass thing to do?”

• Special Request, an immense and toweringly talented producer of my favourite type of techno-house-bass-existential-crisis-based music, is interviewed here and his thoughts on a “thing you do” becoming a “career” are genuinely comforting and inspirational for a 5 year planless person like me.

• Barony Mill up in Orkney shared a supremely soothing video of their heritage Bere barley swaying in the wind.

• This, by David Nilsen for Pellicle, is an absolute joy to read, includes some terroir real-talk and has a genuine lol moment involving a nu-metal dirtbag.

• The Sleater-Kinney lyric video for Come On Home is a brilliant use of instant messenger (and it’s a really fucking excellent song).

• This on obesity health-scare campaigns, by author Sam Pollen, gave me a lot to think about this week.

• I loved this, on Lambic’s timeline from ignored to revered, by Eoghan Walsh so much. Some really insightful interviews in it from Big Lambic Guys, but also his own thoughts and research, which are just as valuable. (Don’t blush Eoghan, it’s true).

My Stuff

• I wrote about my main love in the beer world – beer history – and how brewing gets you closer to the past than you think. (Features Susan Boyle and Steve Dunkley): https://www.beer52.com/ferment/article/497/heritage-beers

• This seems relevant – a piece on becoming a Pommelier (not me, some actual professionals) https://www.beer52.com/ferment/article/500/the-apple-of-knowledge

I listen to Radio 6 a lot since I started working from home and I think it’s changed my life.

I listen to the same music over and over again when I’m left to my own devices. I love all genres, and I love finding new music to listen to, but when I’m working, I tend to fall back on repetition to keep my head clear. I’m a passive listener most of the time.

I realised that repetition is soothing to me, as I’m sure it is to a lot of people. I also realised that I spend a lot of time in silence too — something Tom can’t understand at all.

The things I listen to, watch and look at over and over again aren’t routines as such, but they do form a large part of my frame of reference. It’s nice to have someone chattering away in the background, giving me new points of view to think over, nudging me off my velodrome and down spooky paths. You have no idea how many of my articles began as ideas thrown out into the world from music played by Lauren Laverne or Mary Anne Hobbs. I owe them.

Old New New York

A photo of a beach made from landfill in Battery Park, New York appeared in my timeline while I was casting around for something totally out of my comfort zone. This article in the New York Times looks back on this “hipster beach” and manages to articulate just how wonky it made me feel.

Then, Agnes Deyne’s Wheatfield was shared in the same thread. Another beautiful, strange, eerie, unsettling scene in Manhattan. It’s not nature juxtaposed against the city, because a field of golden wheat isn’t natural. The work they had to put in to create it there, the land they had to move, it’s spectacular. I can’t put my finger on why, but it’s haunted me all week.

Other Things

• Emily Rees Nunn wonders if comfort food is only delicious in our minds, and then regrets making an old family favourite.

• An ice cream truck owner was so sick of ‘grammers asking for free cones he created an influencer tax.

• This week I found out about Radon, a deadly invisible gas that’s everywhere. The upside: in America they encourage kids to make posters about it and the results are often incredible.

• Sarathy Korwal’s music switched something on in my brain this week. Finding out about who he is and the projects he’s worked on has been even more inspiring.

• This piece on plastic flamingo lawn ornaments from 2001 is everything I love about longreads. Ponder too deeply about what the iconic pink flamingo means to culture and to wider society. Meet Don Featherstone, the hugely lovable visionary who first made them. Rethink forever what you consider “tacky”.

My Things

• “East Lancs Steam Rail Ale Trail” is a fun thing to say, isn’t it? Well, I actually went on it with some guys from my local, and finally, here is a blog post about the trip. 

• My latest restaurant review is of 18 North in Morecambe. A great restaurant in Morecambe! Yay Morecambe!

May 15, 1977.CreditCreditFred R. Conrad/The New York Times

This week one article in particular got me thinking about what it is we love about pubs.

I know, how original.

But listen, right. Jessica Furseth is an excellent writer who focuses on culture and urbanism, and above all, her beloved changing city of London. 

In her piece for Huck called, dramatically, “The Curse of the British Pub Refurbishment“, she heavily laments the encroaching circular saw of ‘progress’ as it reaches her favourite pub, The Coach on Greek Street in Soho. Like most pub pieces it’s full of heart and deep, emotional attachment, but there are some really interesting sections about how sympathetic development is eventually adopted (even if it’s initially boycotted). Blue Posts is the case in point here.

Anyway, a question that stuck with me is: why do we (I) want to hang on to every single bit of history — even the crap bits? Does a lick of paint change the molecular structure of a place? Why does cleaning the brass up or swapping out paintings of the hunt for prints by local artists bring about an achy sort of sadness?

For The Coach, things are different. It’s being bought by Fullers, not an enthusiastic beer historian keen to retain its noble features. But even if it was, would that still mark the end of an era? And why?

Someone joked with me at the pub I sometimes work at that because I’d cleaned the toilets earlier that day, it counted as a renovation. He said “Everything’s changing, don’t change this place.”

Bear in mind the pub I sometimes work at is no more than four years old.

Other things:

• I really enjoyed this article on a huge toilet roll because a) the attention to detail is astonishing b) it’s really funny c) haha toilet paper

• I’m not the world’s biggest Beatles fan, but I loved this on Yesterday.

• I’ve been thinking a lot about veganism. This tells the story of the Impossible Burger, and how it went from odd futurefood to being accepted by chefs, then shops, then consumers.

• I loved this about beer in Caballero country by Alex Duell. Read it now.

• I was delighted to then find this listicle about cool, hipster craftspeople and artisans in Mexico City.

My things:

• I promised a blog post this week but guess what, I haven’t had the chance, what with Carnivale Brettanomyces (which was EXCELLENT) and everything. Expect at least one in time for next week’s bulletin.

• This restaurant review I wrote got a lot of “creative criticism”. Apparently. I don’t read the comments.

• Charlie Papazian shared my piece on hops in the Orbigo Valley, which means he’s read it, nbd.

• If you’re not already following me on Instagram, you can do so here. If you want.

• Tom (my husband) has joined Twitter.