Beer & Brew invite you to a series of exciting events. See below for details and make sure you come along.

Second Hand Car Buying – 7th September

Beer & Brew – experts in the field with years of experience – help choose the second hand car to suit you. We teach the best way to kick tyres and look blindly at an engine compartment. We can tell you if a headlight and grille arrangement makes a car look smug or surprised. Join breakout groups on important topics such as Ooh, That’s A Nice Colour and Does It Smell Of Dog In Here?

“I left with a minibus-type thing when it’s only the wife and I. I’ve had numerous issues with it too.” – Paul, Attendee

How to Write Romantic Fiction – 15th October

Ever wondered how to get your writing in the best sellers list and every summer holiday suitcase? Let Beer & Brew – experts in the field with years of experience – give you the very best hints at tips to creating a chick lit classic, likely to be serialised in papers and/or made into a film featuring Ellie Goulding on the soundtrack. Includes seminars on How Tall? How Dark? How Handsome? and She Was A Busy Career Woman…

“My heroine just kept falling over and eating ice cream. The tips were racist, very sexist and packed with cliché.” – E.L. James, Attendee

Wildlife with Beer & Brew – 1st November

Spot mammals (furry), birds (wings) and amphibians (squelchy if stood on) as you join Beer & Brew – experts in the field with years of experience – on a guided walk around places we’ve sometimes seen some animals. We’ll demonstrate how to walk quietly so you don’t scare things away and how to identify what you find – it’s probably a big hamster. FREE illustrated book featuring all the cats we know locally and the limpy fox from the corner.

“They tried to convince me my own dog was a wolf. It’s a Yorkshire terrier.” – Gina, Wolf Owner

We don’t really know what we’re doing when it comes to Bridget Jones or badger spotting, but that won’t stop us running these events. We’ll blag our way through, speaking as if we know what we’re talking about. We’ve read a small booklet on identifying garden birds that we got free in the paper, we read Eat Pray Love, and we stole a copy of What Car? from where we had our MOT done. That’s all you need really.

You might think this doesn’t constitute the appropriate level of expertise. You may even say that a bad experience on the romantic fiction session might taint your view of a genre you previously enjoyed, and if others with little or no genuine insight ran courses too it could even do the industry harm in the longer term. We don’t care about these things, as long as you sign up we’re happy.

If you wanted to do…I don’t know, let’s say a beer and food pairing evening, you might want the person leading it to have trained, researched and explored the subject. You might like them to have extensive knowledge of beer styles and qualifications to prove it. In your mind they may have their own tried and tested examples amassed over many years including enduring pairings for duck, smoked fish, or mushrooms.

Or you might just expect a keen barperson to tell you that light IPAs work with lighter dishes while richer IPAs work with richer dishes. If this last example is what you’re after, you’re in luck. If you like Pulled Pork Tacos or Bourbon Chicken Wings then there’s someone to tell you which Lagunitas or Northern Monk you need to order. And cheese? Well any beer works with any cheese because both are tasty. Such knowledge.

Don’t choose Beer & Brew to pick you a second hand car just because we’ve owned three of them. Don’t expect us to host a decent nature tour because we watch Springwatch.

Choose beer sommeliers to run beer and food pairing events. That’s what we do.

God, I’m old.

Horribly, achingly, witheringly, crushingly, pointlessly old. And I hate how every year, month, week, and day passes like they are half as long as they used to be, making my aging an exponentially worsening misery. Each birthday is a thunderclap above a storm surge encroaching ominously nearer. Each Christmas delivers more physical decline – a back twinge here, some discomfort there, and more hair everywhere except my head. And, every now and then, something comes along and makes it all much worse.

My niece, Millie, just had a baby. Everybody is excited at the arrival of this wonderful little thing, and overjoyed that both are healthy and happy. I’ll visit very soon and will delight in her little wriggles, gurgles and cringes (and I’ll spend some time with the baby too! Ba-dum-tss). I’ll offer emotional congratulations, and I’ll beam with pride when I finally hold Edie. All in all it’s a truly joyous and wonderful thing. Or it would be…IF IT DIDN’T MAKE ME FEEL 324 YEARS OLD!

Surely my niece was running around in nappies herself only a few short years ago, I remember some mention of her going to school but she can’t have finished already. When she said she worked in a pub I thought it was a joke as she could only have been about six. And my brother, the tearaway that smokes and goes to girls’ houses, that introduces me to bands and plays football with me, HAS A RUDDY FLIPPING GRANDCHILD!

I know I’m being selfish, but I’m about as comfortable with this as I would be in a bomb-lined hole full of venomous snakes and barbed wire, on a really chilly day, with just pants on. How can this have happened? I’m going to buy beige nylon slacks. I’m sucking a Werther’s Original. I NEED DRIVING GLOVES! Actually you should take my license off me before I drive the wrong way up the M23.

So in my elderly state I was surprised to hear that Wetting the Baby’s Head is still a thing. Furthermore it’s still an exclusively male thing. I found this a bit weird and did some further reading. I went on madeformums.com and found an amazing thread about this very topic.

“Men are insensitive! My OH went out and got so drunk the night that our second baby was born that when he came to hospital to pick us up the next day he was so hung over that I had to drive home (after a forceps delivery with an episiotomy). Stupid git!!”

“most men can be so insensitive to how us women feel dont u think!!?? :evil:”

“men are such insensitive pigs!!!!!!!”

“why should the bloke get to go out on the piss?”

“when i ahd my first baby my husband went out 3 nights in a row to wet the babies head!!!”

I find it outrageous that men celebrate by ignoring the very thing they are celebrating. It’s ridiculous that so many have no empathy or DRIVE UNDER THE INFLUENCE TO THE HOSPITAL. And it’s insane that these women think ALL (or “most”) men are “pigs”, “insensitive” or “gits”. You picked a dud, we’re not all as vile as yours.

A night out to celebrate the arrival of a new baby should definitely happen. But why only men? Why is it a boozy, late night in a pub as soon as the baby arrives? Why can’t the night out happen before the birth meaning you can savour the emotional rawness and joy as a family? Why do some of the women ask “Why does he get to go out?” He gets to go out because the last nine months have been exciting, scary, nervous, stressful, difficult and tough for him as well as you. Yes, you had the enormous physical responsibility and undertaking, but he may have been on an incredible emotional roller coaster too (though the men in the above relationships probably didn’t care). The question should be “Why aren’t we celebrating together?”

The far bigger questions are why we look for the excuse to drink in every aspect of life’s journey, disregarding the monumental glory of it in the process. Why drinking is still so defined along lines of gender.

But, biggest of all, how did I get so damned old?

Below: Me and Millie

I’m writing this with no hindrance and nothing to distract, disturb or hamper me. My fingers dance across the keys without obstruction, and how I wish this wasn’t the case. My new found productivity is outweighed by a crushing sadness.

Since the end of winter my cat was unable to join me on the sofa or chair beside me. He simply couldn’t make the jump. If I helped him up he’d no longer nudge my hand, stroll one way across the keyboard before heading back and settling in front of the screen.

We got Alfred when he was seven. This fluffy, white monster who purred the moment I stroked him and then fell with a thud onto his side was the one for us. From that day he was hilarious, friendly, comforting, playful, and affectionate in equal measure. After a day at work he’d welcome you home like genial butler, after a week away he’d furiously scold you for leaving him before sticking to you like glue for the next few days.

He went downhill rapidly when he lost some mobility. First a series of infections drained his energy and made him withdraw – we called this the ‘Goth Period’. Then his arthritis was compounded by a problem that meant he walked like he’d had eight pints, and then he could only go a short distance before slumping down, like he’d had ten. He was still happy and loved attention but it was becoming unfair, and I had to make the decision I’d feared for weeks.

At the vet I squeezed, stroked and kissed him and gave him some cheese, his very favourite thing in the world. I held him and pleaded with him to purr for me so I knew he was happy when he went. I left with an empty carry case and dreadful feeling in my stomach. This is where beer comes in.

The day we said goodbye to Alfred I probably had a little more than I normally would, because I was toasting his life. The following day I had more than normal again, still celebrating. In reality the extra booze was to ensure that I’d fall asleep the moment my head hit the pillow, sparing me the opportunity to be sad.

I don’t drink during the week, so when Monday came I was a bit stuck. I’ve been reading later and later into the night in the hope that I’ll exhaust myself, but it hasn’t worked. I’ve been wriggling and squirming, able to think of nothing aside from not being able to hear him, squeeze him, or smell him.

I like to think there’s a fixed amount of time it will take to overcome the grief. The more I put it off with beer or reading the further away the end point will be, so all the time I’m remembering and missing him is progress along the road to peace. I also try to find the moment drinking goes from enjoyable to symptomatic, and I think I’m pretty good at it. Sometimes I recognise the moment but choose to rush past it while waving two fingers and hurling obscenities in its direction, but these occasions are rare. Understanding the reasons you’re drinking more is a hugely important but equally difficult skill. A healthy relationship with booze is something that can enhance your life no end, but it isn’t a solution to anything. It can keep you company during hard times, but don’t let it tell everything is okay.

I’ll have a few this weekend, but no more than normal. As for now, I sit here unhindered, unhampered, and unhappy, but getting better.