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Christmas at The Gunmakers
 Last night we visited the excellent Mager brewery guesthouse in Pottenstein (town pictured right). The dunkel - served under air pressure without extra CO2 - was world class. The town itself was dead, so after dinner we repaired to the local dive. Andy was welcomed as a returning hero by the locals who hadn't left their stools since his last visit a year ago.
 We enjoyed the company of a local policeman, who drank a cocktail of beer, cola and kirch from a litre stein. We weren't able to avoid his offer to share. The beer of choice was a dunkel landbier, served from bottles that gave out the most pronounced pop when opened by Ziggy, our Saxon host. Near the end of the night, the policeman switched to water so he could drive home. He probably wouldn't have bothered, but for the watchful gaze of his old mum, who sat puffing ciggies at the bar.
This morning we checked out the breweries of Bayreuth, touring the enormous catacombs of Atkien (pictured left) and the historic steam powered brewhouse of Maisel. Both beers are now brewed in a super-modern plant next door, but it's good that the old buildings and equipment have been kept intact. Thanks to Andy's contacts we were admitted to the inner sanctum of the brewery, a mahogany bar room filled with Herr Maisel's hat collection. Beer schnapps was served. Ron had two shots. The rest of us thought better of it and stuck to one.
 Life is good in this part of the world. Today, the local paper's headline was about a possible rise in the price of milk - the grim affairs of the world are kept at arm's length. Everything is beautiful, apart from the beer guts sported by most men over thirty. When beer is less than 2 Euros a half litre, who can blame them for overindulging?
 Today we've toured a few of the breweries of "Swiss Franconia", a region of undulating hills. There's a pub or guesthouse in every other village brewing beer, and most are doing an exceptionally good job of it. I think we've stopped at around eight today, but I'm not keeping count. That's what Ron's notebook is for. Pictured left is one of the best we visited, Kathi-Brau, a remote brewery and tavern in rustic buildings. Mugs of the excellent house brew are pictured right.
It's early evening, and we've arrived in Pottenstein where we'll spend the night. Once again we're overlooked by dramatic cliffs. Roads wind up the hill from the elegant town brewery to the imposing fortress. A canal trickles by. It's time to hit the beer gardens and sample the local produce, I think.
You might notice there isn't much detailed analysis of the beers we're drinking in these posts. In Franconia, beer is brewed and beer is drunk. It's simple, it's natural, and it's rubbed off on me.
Last night's Annafest was marred with rain, dampening our spirits and leaving just one option - get pissed. Not hard when 23 cellar bars hewn into the living rock are serving litres of festbier in stoneware mugs. We ascended the hill, through the temporary fairground. Ropey tribute bands blasted out hits from Lulu and Sting. Brilliant.  This morning I walked with Big Ron into Forchheim, a town with four breweries - three on one street. We checked Hebendanz out first. A basic two room bar, with a simple tap and barrel set up in the corner. Almost all the tables were taken up by sozzled senescents on their third or fourth pint. Schnapps and Jagermeister flowed freely. It was 9.30 a.m. on a Monday morning. Mental. We grabbed seats next to a mute, bewhiskered gentleman. We managed to sit on the one table reserved for regulars, prompting a torrent of invective from a haggard looking woman with her wiry hair forced into incongruous pigtails. On her table was an old boy clearly shunned even by his own kind. I sneaked a photo with my phone ( pictured right). Naturally he was flanked by crutches and white as a sheet. He launched into an incoherent monlogue which the barman warned us to ignore. While he ranted at Ron I contemplated my first beer of the day. This isn't easy - it's a good job you've got me to do it for you.
 We've just said goodbye to Herr Schneider and left the beautiful village of Essing. After breakfast he was kind enough to show us around his compact brewhouse, even allowing us to peer into his open fermentation vessels.
I learned that the guesthouse brewery, though independent, is part of a network of similar establishments across Germany, Austria, Switzerland and Denmark. A great concept - a weekend in a little village with a never ending supply of beer brewed on site. Not much chance of going thirsty - which is a good job, considering the rate at which Ron's knocking the back.
Our next stop's Weissenohe Klosterbrauerei, then the Hofmann brauhaus. This afternoon we'll be settling into a Forchheim and exploring the forest before whipping ourselves into a beer frenzy at the Annafest.
 Six generations of a family, absolutely devoted to the same ideal. The brewery tour at Schneider Weisse told us all about the six brewers Georg. We even got to see the original recipe book (pictured left), proving they've stuck to tradition.
The highlight of the visit was Aventinus Eisbock. It's a 12% abv distilled version of the brewery's bock, and it's mindblowing. I've got two bottles to bring home. The aroma blows your head off - it's a wheat beer as complex and tasty as a Belgian quad.
 After Schneider Weisse we drove to Weltenburg Kloster (courtyard pictured right), a baroque paradise overlooking the Danube. The monks are no fools, as most of their enormous courtyard is a beer garden. The church itself is a masterpiece. The beer didn't impress - the dunkel was quaffable, with a lasting chocolate aftertaste. The bock offered much of the same with the volume turned up.
We've just arrived at our next stop - the Josef Schneider brewery and guest house in Essing. He's no relation the the wheat beer chaps we visited earlier. Cliffs overhang the building where we'll sleep. Eek.
A 9.45 a.m. rendezvous at Nuremburg airport meant a very early start in Clerkenwell. I've had three hours sleep and I'm already heading for brewery number two, powering down the autobahn to Schneider Weisse in Kelheim.
 When he first met me this morning, tour leader Andy Neil's first words weren't a conventional greeting. Instead he looked me up and down and expressed amazement that I wasn't obese, as he and Ron had expected. Cheers lads. A compliment, I think.
 After assembling the party, the six of us hit the road to Regensburg, a beautiful town just to the south of Franconia. After taking in the majesty of the mighty Danube, we crossed the bridge to Spital, a brewery and beer garden on the river bank. After a six day beer fast, a litre of Dunkel went down a treat. Reminding me more of a Czech dark beer than anything else, this was a lovely brew. Hints of dark fruit set against a sweetish malty body, followed by he merest suggestion of coffee. Ron liked it too.
You'll have to excuse the lack of photos and fancy formatting for the next few days - such are the indignities of mobile blogging [Photos now added]. Do you remember when they released that Beatles album a couple of years ago, with all the extraneous orchestral arrangements stripped out, leaving just the authentic sound of the band? Well, this is rather like that. All you've got is the raw Stonch prose style - becoming progressively incoherent as the beer count rises...
On Saturday morning I'm flying to Germany for a five day tour of Franconia, a region with the highest concentration of breweries in the world. The trip has been organised by Andy Neil of Bier Mania. Fellow beer writer Ron Pattinson will also be joining the group. In total, we'll visit as many as 30 breweries and brewpubs. Here are just a few of the highlights I'm looking forward to:
 Schneider Weisse
On day one of the tour, we'll be visiting the famous weissbier producer. The brewery's founder, Georg I. Schneider, is credited with saving the style from decline and extinction. His great-great-great grandson Georg VI. works in the brewery today, and is poised to take over the family business when his father Georg V. retires. After taking a look at their open fermentation vessels, we'll have the chance to sample the whole range.
 The Annafest
It's a world away from the huge beer tents of the Munich Octoberfest. The Annafest at Forchheim is a traditional celebration, held in the forest. Barrels of beer lagered in hillside caves are tapped for the first time, and served by the entrance to the cellars. We'll be getting involved on Sunday evening.
 Kloster Weltenburg
The oldest monastic brewery in the world isn't Belgian, and it isn't Trappist. The Benedictine monks of Weltenburg have been brewing since 1050. The abbey and brewery are beautifully situated on the banks of the Danube, deep in the Black Forest. In 2004 their dunkel (dark lager) was named best of its style in the world. The mighty Asam Bock is also well regarded. Drinking them in this magnificent setting will be an unforgettable experience.
 Bamberg
The "Rome of Franconia" has eleven breweries for just 70,000 inhabitants, and is home to rauchbier (smoked beer). Bamberg is also renowned for its unspoilt historic centre, a medieval and renaissance paradise spared from wartime damage. The town is built on seven hills, each crowned with a church. On day five, we'll be visiting all of the breweries, including the legendary Schlenkerla and Spezial taverns. To drink some of my favourite beers direct from the source in such beautiful surroundings will be a dream come true. I can't wait.
A trip abroad doesn't mean a hiatus in writing. I'll be sharing our experiences with you in frequent posts, thanks to the wonders of mobile blogging. You'll have to wait until Friday for the photos. Prost!
 If you find yourself facing a beer-related dilemma, you're probably taking things a little too seriously. Beer is for drinking, end of story. On the other hand, how can I overlook a label that bears this legend:
This bottle is one of a Limited Edition of 3,000.
Bottled to commemorate Brewery Month - September 1992.
Bass Brewers Limited, Burton upon Trent. This week a bottle of 15 year old Worthington's White Shield, one of Britain's most iconic beers, fell into my lap. It's pictured side by side with today's bigger, trendier version. I wonder how many of its 2,999 pals have made it this far? What do you think? Spare the little fella's life, or crack it open for a side by side tasting of old and new?
John Williams, a local businessman, has stepped into save Archers, the Swindon brewery. The company went into administration back in May. The Morning Advertiser reported the good news yesterday.
Hopefully, they'll take a long hard look at themselves to see what went wrong. Cash flow problems and underselling were responsible for Archers near death experience. However, I think their general strategy left a lot to be desired. They need to develop a solid range of beers and promote them properly, and forget about the special brews and rebadges.
 Importing cask beer into Britain is definitely a case of selling coal to Newcastle. Nonetheless, that's what the organisers of the Great British Beer Festival tried to do. A list of American cask ales as long as your arm were to be available at the international bar.
Tragically - and I don't use that word lightly - the plan hasn't come together. One of the casks leaked en route, resulting in the whole shipment being quarantined in New Jersey. Short of flying it over, the beer won't arrive in time for the festival, which starts in 14 days (7-11 August). Click here to see what you could have won. To make it even worse, this is happening for the second year in a row. Last year the American casks missed the show and had to be distributed to smaller, regional festivals. This year's snarl up means they'll be knocking the idea on the head for future festivals too. 500 British cask ales at the festival will have to be your lot, then.
UPDATE: Good news. The organisers were able to fly the casks over after all. 34 American draught beers will be available at the GBBF.
Market analysts as Citigroup predicted yesterday that a merger between two of the world's largest brewing companies, Anheuser-Busch and InBev, was "inevitable". The report stated there was a 70% chance of this happening within the next two years. Cost savings and synergies would dictate the move.
The two giants are already swapping brands. A-B acquired Rolling Rock from InBev in May, and in February secured exclusive rights to import InBev beers for the American market. If you're in the US and drink Bass, Becks or Stella Artois, you're already "enjoying" the fruits of this partnership. A merger will make little difference. The world will still be flooded with homogenised swill, and fools will still be parted with their money.
It's a joyless tale, but there's always something to smirk about. The CEO of A-B is called "August Busch IV". His CFO goes by the name of "W. Randolph Baker". Why do some Americans give themselves such ludicrous names, and still expect to be taken seriously?
 After a lairy Friday night and a monster hangover on Saturday, I lived to fight another day. Our pal Robbles offered to drive us to Windsor and Eton for a bit of sightseeing and a few jars. The air was clear after the crazy rainstorms of the last few days, setting the scene for a glorious afternoon in the sun.
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 After saying hi to the Queen and bothering her swans, we settled in for lunch at The King and Castle, opposite Liz and Phil's gaff. It's a Wetherspoons, but as a nod to the neighbours they've toned down the branding. A raised patio overlooks a huge beer garden, shaded by the trees of Windsor Great Park.
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One of the guest ales caught my eye: Oakham White Dwarf (4.3% abv). English wheat beers are usually poor relations to the Belgian wit and the German weiss, but not this one. White Dwarf is a perfect splash for a sunny day. It looks innocent enough in the glass, a perfectly clear straw colour. It's lively on the tongue, with pronounced lemon and peach flavours, and finishes with a bitter twang. This should appeal to everyone who likes a refreshing but flavoursome ale. Magic.
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Information:
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Oakham Ales is based in Peterborough (website). You should be able to try White Dwarf and its stablemates this week at The Coronet (338–346 Holloway Road, N7 6NJ) this week. The cinema conversion is hosting a week long exposition of Oakham's beers - details are on Wetherspoons' website here.
I feel as rough as guts. The Pembury Tavern beer festival was brilliant, as expected. Last night, we put my theories about beer not being the binge drinker's poison to the test. The ale and cider on offer wasn't lacking in its headbanging qualities.
I feel a bit to fragile to wax lyrical. Perhaps those last two pints of Milton Mammon (7% abv) were a mistake. I don't think there was much wisdom in deciding to concentrate on Wiscombe Suicider (8% abv), either.
 Chris Gill is a friendly chap, and he's very excited to be selling his favourite beers in the heart of London. He's the owner of Quaffs, a new market stall in Spitalfields.
 I chanced upon it when visiting the Thursday antiques market at lunchtime. Comparisons with Utobeer in Borough are inevitable. Quaffs is a fraction of the size, but the choices are excellent. Prices are very reasonable - most beers are between £2 and £3. Glassware is also available. A true enthusiast, before long Chris was telling me which beers feature in his own top ten, and what his plans for the future are. Like me he's a fan of La Trappe and St Bernardus, carrying a full range from both. Light and dark Czech lagers from Bohemia Regent are a change from the usual. Schlenkerla Rauchbier, Schneider Aventinus and Kostritzer Schwarzbier are the pick of the German crop. It was the American beers that really caught my eye: Quaffs is the first place I've seen the Flying Dog beers, new to the UK. I also walked away with a bottle of Great Divide Titan IPA. The beer scene in London is getting better all the time. Quaffs is a worthy addition, and will be welcomed by those City workers who know the truth - the best things in life are beery. Information: Quaffs is part of Spitalfields Fine Food Market, and is only open during market hours - 10am to 5pm on Thursday, Friday and Sunday. The website lists all the beers. Click here for directions and a map. When you visit, tell him that Stonch sent you.
Yesterday the owners of FARK.com featured our BrewCam. It's a website that pulls together news stories, videos and general randomalia from across the net. We knew nothing about it until they emailed us. Cheers lads - in the space of 24 hours over 6,500 visitors from around the world have taken a look.
 There isn't a pub in London that can hold a better beer festival than The Pembury Tavern. First off, the place is enormous, with 16 handpumps and plenty of room for stillage. Second, the beer choices are always spot on - you don't just see a list of award winners from other festivals, nor do they waste space on beers from larger brewers. Last but not least, they've got a bar billiards table.
The pub's latest beer festival starts today and runs until Saturday. It's the pub's third since it first opened in early 2006. The beer list has a few highlights, the most interesting coming from Milton in Cambridge: whatever you do, don't miss out on Mammon and Marcus Aurelius, two mighty dark ales. I can vouch for Jarrow Rivet Catcher and Cairngorm Trade Winds, lighter beers I've raved about in the past.
I'll be at the festival throughout Friday evening - if you're about, do say hello.
Information:
The Pembury Tavern is at 90 Amhurst Road, Hackney, E8 1JH (Tel: 020 8986 8597, map, website). It's on several bus routes (including the 38 and the 55 from the centre), and is a short walk from Hackney Central railway station. You can read about the pub's last festival here.
 I know that some of you who couldn't care less what our homespun hooch tastes like. To those among you who are disinterested, I say this - skip this article, you heartless rotters. Begone.
 SGB ( Stonch Goon Bitter) has had ample time to condition and mature, and it's probably at its best right now. This was our third brew, and it's had quite a journey. . Things started well, but we had trouble keeping it cool during May's heatwave. To perk it up a bit, we decided to dry hop in the barrel with a bag of Bramling Cross, kindly provided by a blog reader and fellow homebrewer (thanks again to Dave from Suffolk, a.k.a. Fivetide). After almost 50 days in the barrel, it's a perfectly clear, burnished orange. The alcoholic strength of around 5% abv is evident after a couple of pints, but doesn't impede quaffing. The fresh hop aroma and flavour - citrus, spicy orange - adds an appealing tang. There aren't any complex flavours, as you'd expect from an extract kit brew, but this is a decent beer that you'd be happy to drink in the pub. . Lesson for the day - give your beers bags of time to mature. A few weeks can work wonders.
 The Cask Marque logo will be familiar to most British ale drinkers. The body was set up by a chartered accountant in 1997 as a real ale accreditation scheme. It's jointly funded by retailers and brewers. Pubs apply to be members of the organisation, although the award is made to the licensee, not to the pub, on the basis of bi-annual inspections (quarterly for new members). The idea has its appeal, but I've found you can't rely on the Cask Marque. All manner of criticisms have been levelled in the past, but two recent incidents have confirmed my own suspicions.
.  Last week, against my better judgement, I ended up supping a pint of London Pride just off Oxford Street. The Cask Marque logo was attached to the hand pump. The pint was so tired you'd think it'd just run a marathon. Added to that, the staff were using pint glasses as drip trays. Each new pint was dispensed on top of the stale overflow from the last. . One Edinburgh pub we visited over the weekend was The White Hart Inn on Grassmarket. It displayed the Cask Marque plaque outside. Only keg beer was available, the hand pumps idle. The bar staff indicated this wasn't unusual. Looking around, everyone was drinking lager and Guinness. Of course, you might consider it unfair to judge the entire scheme on the basis of two pubs. If you've had similar or contrary experiences, let me know. For now, I won't be relying on the Cask Marque.
I've just returned from my mate Ross's stag weekend in Edinburgh, the city of his birth. A tidal wave of dark, malty beer (mainly Caledonian 80/-) took us through from arrival on Friday afternoon to departure on Sunday. In total we must have visited about 15 pubs, bars and clubs. Most of them are unworthy of a write-up here, but fun for other reasons. These were the beery highlights: The Bow Bar  The Bow Bar sits on the gloriously picturesque West Bow, which winds down from the end of George IV Bridge to the Grass Market below. Edinburgh's Old Town is very much a city of two levels, and nowhere is that more apparent than here.  The pub's modest frontage and small, single bar looks like it's been perfectly preserved since Edwardian times. In fact, it was refitted in the 1970s. Vintage adverts for beer and tobacco adorn the walls. The beer engines are the traditional air pressure pumps, unusual south of the Border. . We visited on both days, and noticed that the beer line-up changed. This place has a high turnover, and is busy throughout the day. Most of the eight ales on offer came from Scotland. Cairngorm Trade Winds was the most enjoyable, an award-winning blonde from the Highlands bursting with spicy and floral hops. Information: - The Bow Bar is at 80 West Bow, EH1 2HH (Tel: 0131 226 7667, map)
- Cairngorm Brewery is based in Aviemore in Invernesshire (website).
The Guildford Arms   Edinburgh's best pubs are clearly no secret - The Guildford Arms in the New Town was packed out too. The astonishingly opulent bar is reached through revolving doors. The ornate ceiling and green leather banquettes surround a large bar replete with eight hand pumps. Regular beers include Deuchars IPA and Timothy Taylor Landlord, but it was the guests from Scottish micros we were interested in. Orkney Dark Island is marketed as an old ale, but the dry roasted character suggested a stout. This was a glorious wee drop, chocolate, liquorice and dark fruit sitting happily together. It was in absolutely perfect condition - there's nothing better than live beer dancing a jig on the palate.
Information: - The Guildford Arms is at 1-5 West Register Street, EH2 2AA (Tel: 0131 556 4312, map).
- The Orkney Brewery in Stromness has a token online presence, with more information available via Quaffale.
The Cafe Royal
 The Cafe Royal is right next door to The Guildford Arms, and also boasts an unspoiled Victorian interior and elegant revolving doors. The ceramic depictions of industrial heroes and maritime scenes are particularly well-preserved. An island bar is faced on one side with a high partition, behind which an elegant and upmarket restaurant is hidden. This remarkable co-existence of a busy city bar with an expensive temple of white linen and silver service harks back to the pubs of the Victorian and Edwardian eras. The beer selection was far from impressive, with only three ales, one of them the dreaded Courage Directors. Isle of Skye Red Cuillin was a dark copper pint, served slightly past its best but enjoyable nonetheless. The rich nutty flavour was distinctively Scottish, with only the lightest sprinkling of Fuggles to balance things up.
Information:
- The Cafe Royal is 17 West Register Street, EH2 2AA (Tel: 0131 556 4124 map).
- Isle of Skye Brewing Company are online here.
The Halfway House  The Royal Mile, which runs from the Castle to the Scottish Parliament hundreds of feet below. The Castle Rock was once an active volcano, and the Mile is built on the solidified lava that once poured from its mouth. Narrow alleys, called "closes", descend from the street on both sides. The Halfway House is hidden down one of these passages. Despite its secluded location, it's very handy for the railway station. The Halfway House was CAMRA's Scottish pub of the year for Scotland in 2005. It's a cosy little pub I'd love to spend an afternoon in. Throughout August and early September, they're focusing on one brewer each week as part of a "Scottish Cask Ale Showcase". This is a great idea, offering a full range from one brewer in the heart of the nation's capital. On our visit, four ales were on offer from An Teallach, a tiny five barrel brewery operated by a husband and wife team. The couple operate from a croft in the Highlands. The dark An Teallach Ale won plaudits from one of our party, and the Crofters Pale Ale was certainly palatable. Information: - The Halfway House is at 24 Fleshmarket Close, EH1 1BX (Tel: 0131 225 7101, website, map).
- An Teallach don't seem to have a website despite being in operation for five years. Contact details and a photo of the brewery are on Quaffale.
Man dressed as a large cock and balls   This one speaks for itself, really. Edinburgh is the British capital of stag and hen parties. Some lads get stitched up by their mates. This unlucky groom carried off his outfit well. As you can see, he enjoyed cosying up to our own stag. A weekend of 25 pints is enough to force even me onto the wagon for a few days. Hopefully I'll have recovered in time for the Pembury Tavern Beer Festival this weekend. . Ross will be there too, making the best of his last few weeks of freedom, before pubs and beer become distant memories.
In March, Gordon Brown put another 1p on beer duty. This week, a Tory think tank headed by ex-leader Iain Duncan Smith proposed squeezing us for another 7p per pint. As a result, I'm none too happy with politicians right now. It doesn't have to be that way.
As the first in what will might become a series of posts, lets pay tribute to some heroes of beer.
 HERO #2 - Sir Robert WalpoleWalpole was Britain's first and longest serving Prime Minister, holding office between 1721 and 1742. His biography appears on the 10 Downing Street website. "Brewing beer" is listed among his hobbies. Magic. Lets compare that to some of his successors: Lord North enjoyed "dancing in his youth" ( sounds suspect); the Duke of Wellington was keen on "inventing and buying gadgets" ( dweeb); Alec Douglas Home spent many a happy hour flower arranging ( pansy); Margaret Thatcher claims to have enjoyed opera ( liar). There's no doubt about it - our first PM was our finest. It's been all downhill since then.
 HERO #2 - Franklin Delano RooseveltAren't the Americans getting uppity about their beer these days? Make no mistake - the world's most powerful nation has rediscovered the good stuff, and we're all reaping the benefits. Brewing in the USA was dealt a near mortal blow by 14 years of prohibition in the interwar period. They have FDR to thank for ending the madness and letting the good times roll again. In 1932 he won his first presidential election under the slogan "A new deal and a pot of beer for everyone". He took action to repeal the 18th amendment within nine days of taking office. He must have been gasping for a pint, poor bloke.  HERO #3 - Reggie MaudlingWhy don't Tories look like this anymore? Nowadays all you get are dodgy quiffs and slapheads. Reginald Maudling was appointed Chancellor of the Exchequer by Harold Macmillan in 1962. In his first budget, he abolished duties on homebrew. Until then you were expected to cough up tax even if you made your own beer. Doubtless homebrewers lived like Robin Hood - holed up in their potting shed lairs, on the run from the Inland Revenue. The Tories failed to make him their leader when given the chance, and look where they are now. Raise a glass of dodgy hooch to Reggie, who fell off the tree in 1979.  HERO #4 - Bob Hawke
Australia is a vast country, but most of its people live cheek by jowl in just a few locations: Earl's Court, Hammersmith and Shepherd's Bush. Apparently a handful of Aussies remain down under - they even have a rudimentary system of governance. Bob Hawke was the 23rd Prime Minister, in power from 1983 to 1991. He won no fewer than four general elections, and was the country's most popular politician. His secret? Her Majesty's antipodean subjects don't half love their beer, and Hawke held the world record for downing a yard of ale. I shit you not - it was in the Guinness Book of Records and everything.  HERO #5 - Václav HavelPresident Havel, the playwright who led the Czech nation to freedom, was fond of a drop. He even worked in a brewery in his youth. Always true to his roots, in 1994 he took Bill Clinton to his local ( U Zlateho Tygra) for a pint of Pilsner Urquell. I lived in Prague for while. I think it's where I first fell in love with great beer. I also admired the calm, stoical nature of the Czechs. Havel has a theory regarding that common-sense attitude:
"I suppose that drinking beer in pubs has had a good influence on the behaviour of Czech society, because beer contains less alcohol than for example wine, vodka or whisky, and therefore people's political chat in pubs is less crazy." Our politicians should listen to Havel, a far wiser man than they. Beer gets a bad rap. In reality, it's the healthiest and most sociable of alcoholic drinks. Let us enjoy our beers, and maybe we'll put the world to rights.
A couple of weeks ago I wrote about Hamish Howitt, licensee of The Happy Scots Bar in Blackpool. This energetic fellow set up his own political party in order to "fight" the smoking ban, pledging to defy what he called a "government incited hate crime". He even rolled out the rhetorical big guns by asking "is this Stalinist Russia or Nazi Germany?" Always a winner.
Well, he managed to cajole a few of his customers into breaking the law on the 1st July, helpfully providing them with ashtrays. You can imagine the desperate look on his little face, just pleading with people to light up and make him a martyr. Blackpool Council have started prosecution proceedings, and he's facing a fine of up to £2500. Thanks to Alec for the tip off.
Meanwhile, in Stoke-upon-Trent, the authorities have taken a different approach. They've failed to pass the measures necessary to fine those who flout the ban. A local landlord has responded by displaying "welcome to Smoke-on-Trent" posters in his pub.
 Last night I met Tony Lennon, London's newest and youngest craft brewer at The Florence, Herne Hill. We first met last month at Capital Pub Company's other brewpub, The Cock & Hen in Fulham.
The Florence's interior is startling. It looks like no expense was spared on the refit of what was a dingy Irish theme pub. The previous owners would be surprised to see an open kitchen and an open, airy feel. There's a large decked beer garden to the rear. The island bar is impressive, with handpumps dispensing the house ale, Weasel, alongside Adnams Broadside and Bitter. There's a good selection of bottled and keg beers from the likes of Maredsous, Erdinger, Meantime and Budvar. The brew kettle and mash tun are to the rear of the pub, behind a glass partition.  Weasel is a 4.5% abv golden ale. It sells for £2.50 a pint. The grain bill consists solely of Maris Otter pale malt. Cascade and Styrian Goldings hops are used. Straight from the hand pump, this very lively beer took a while to settle, with an impressive head of pure white foam. Regular readers will know that aroma is something I get excited about. This one goes straight for the nose with a strong citrus perfume - I was hooked before I even tasted it. The floral and grapefruit and flavours you'd expect are there, but the long, lasting bitterness is a surprise and makes this a beer for grown ups. The body is surprisingly light, which will appeal to those who dismiss ales as "heavy" in comparison to lager. Tony told me that just a year ago he wouldn't have imagined being a real ale drinker, let alone a brewer. The zeal of the convert has enabled him to ascend a steep learning curve and knock out another fantastic beer. When Weasel debuts at beer festivals, I expect it'll create a stir among the beery savants. There are plans to brew seasonal ales at The Florence and The Cock & Hen, and soon Bonobo and Weasel will be available in both pubs. Great news - keep it up Tony. Information: The Florence is at 133 Dulwich Road, SE24 0NG (Tel: 020 7236 4987, map). It's just round the corner from Herne Hill station, accessible from Thameslink stations and Victoria.
A roar of thunder just announced another cloudburst over London. Fatty here was about to go for a run. Never mind, there's plenty of beer in the fridge. What's happened to summer this year? Global warming's let us all down. This time three years ago I was in Crete on a lads' holiday. Dave only recently sent me his photos, which he's hoarded like a miser for all that time. In among snaps of shocking birds we'd all rather forget, there were these of us at the beachside bar. We spotted a tall beer machine gathering dust, and asked the owner to fill it up with Löwenbräu. The rest was (very boozy) history. . If you spend too much time analysing beer, it's easy to forget why you fell in love with it in the first place. This is what it's all about.    
 Andy Neil is a British beer lover resident in Germany. He organises European beer tours through his company, Bier Mania. At the end of July, I'm joining him for a trip to Franconia, where we'll be touring 30 breweries in just five days.
. In late June, Andy flew to the lofty heights of Denver, Colorado for the 29th American Homebrewers Association National Conference. As he discovered, homebrewing is massive in the US, despite having been technically illegal until 1979: The main conference kicked off on the Thursday evening with a Pro Brewers Night. Beers were dispensed via ‘Jocky Boxes’, an amazing contraptation consisting of a cool box, ice, taps and a lot of plastic piping (pictured right). What were the beers like? No idea, I crashed and burned due to jet-lag! Early the next day, the finals of the national homebrew awards took place. The last remaning beers from some 5000 original submissions were judged. On the second day there were a number of technical seminars, with the main event in the evening being the Homebrewers Club night. Now, for me this really was the highlight of the conference. I was amazed at what these guys and girls are producing across the pond, in that supposed beer wilderness. I was particularly interested in the beer styles from Germany, enjoying such delights as Schwarzbier, Kölsch, Rauchbier (very good) as well as a Kellerbier. The final night was the Grand Gala and presentation of the national homebrew awards. Anyone that got an award really deserved it by this stage. So, what did I like most about the event? The complete openness to styles was really refreshing - even mead was on offer. The homebrewers brew every beer style going, as well as some sort of ‘cross-breed’ beers thought up over a brew kettle in someone’s garage after too much homebrewIt was also great seeing so many women brewing and interested in beer. It’s nice to see beer being taken out of its male dominated ‘testosterone-charged’ environment the British seem to have dug themselves into. Dare I say it, I think the British have a lot to learn from the American Craft Beer and homebrew movement, a lot. The main thing we could learn for a start would be openness to beer, good beer of any fermentation or dispense method. I returned to Germany with a whole different opinion of American beer. I am now convinced that it is only a matter of time before those very beers start to make their mark in the UK.
You can read more about the conference here, on the website of the American Brewers Association. If only we had an event like that in Britain.
In the last edition of London Drinker magazine, I wrote about the 1p increase on beer duty in this year's Budget. Meanwhile, for the tenth year running, duty on spirits was frozen. This week, a Tory policy group proposed a massive tax rise on alcohol to help tackle binge drinking. It's been reported that this would put another 7p on the price of a pint. UK beer duty is already the highest in the EU. It doesn't seem likely this policy will be adopted by David Cameron, but it's indicative of attitudes among the political class.
 These inept policy monkeys need to distinguish between different types of alcohol. Spirits are a fast route to oblivion for the inexperienced or the desperate. Alcopops appeal to children. It's no surprise, then, that it's Bacardi Breezers and vodka shots being thrown up in gutters - not pints of stout, mild and bitter.
Let's take a look at how wine is marketed. Nowadays, cheap plonk is sold in larger measures than before - 250ml glasses are becoming the norm. Thirty years ago, the most popular white wines in the UK contained around six units of alcohol per bottle - today, a New World white is likely to have at least 10. Wine is cheaper than ever, and frequently subject to special offers - many pubs will give you the rest of the bottle if you buy two large glasses, and two for one deals aren't uncommon.
Meanwhile, the beer industry is going in the other direction. The big lager brewers have started launching lower alcohol products - Becks Vier and Carling C2, although abominable beers, are perfect examples. Recently, marketing campaigns have suggested that Stella Artois and Heineken should be served in fancy half glasses. CAMRA reintroduced the traditional but forgotten third of a pint measure at the GBBF, and Wetherspoons followed suit. Beer isn't the weapon of choice for people who want to get off their face.
If the government wants to tackle binge drinking, it shouldn't slap more tax on beer. It's the least potent, least destructive and most distinctively British of alcoholic beverages.
UPDATE: CAMRA's response to the Tory proposals has appeared in the Morning Advertiser here.
As of this week, I've been writing Stonch's Beer Blog for six months. Today, the unique visitor counter ticked over 25,000. There have been nearly 42,000 hits in total.
Once again, thank you. I've even been lucky enough to meet a few readers in pubs and at beer festivals. If you see me around, say hello - it's your round. Thanks also to the sponsors who've chipped in to the drinks kitty. I've enjoyed being Stonch. The mask slipped recently, when an article was published under my real name in What's Brewing.
The back catalogue of articles now stands at 130. If you're a new reader, you may have missed the account of our epic St Albans pub crawl. Perhaps you'd like to read about two of the best Belgian beers I've tasted, St Bernardus Abt 12 and De Struise Aardmonnik. In January I wrote an article on the sorry state brewing in London. Since then the situation has improved, with two new brewpubs opening their doors.
There's plenty more to come. In three weeks, I'm off to Franconia in Germany, to visit 30 breweries in five days. Check out the links to beer festivals on the sidebar. And don't stop drinking, or you'll get a dreadful thirst on. Cheers.
 I missed the beer bloggers' monthly carnival in June. To be honest, I almost forgot about it again this time too. The designated subject matter? Atmosphere. Not the stuff that clings to the earth, scatters light and makes the sky blue. No, we're talking about the ineffable magic that lights up a local. The round-up will be posted over at Hop Talk.
.So here I am, on a hungover Friday morning, trying to write something off the top of my head. I'm hungover because I spent last night in The Jerusalem Tavern. That last Cream Stout was a mistake. Many of my friends and colleagues think it's odd that I go to the same pub every other day. Fools. I've made friends there that have enriched my life immeasurably, people I would never have met if I spent my evenings having furtive, after-work pints in anonymous chain bars.
In Britain, we've still got community pubs in most neighbourhoods - but they are fewer than ever. I live in Clerkenwell, an area of London blessed with great places to drink. But even here, there are dead pubs wherever you look. Some have become homes, others offices or shops. A few are standing empty, patiently waiting for the bulldozers. There's no point lamenting the decline of community pubs if you never use them. The same applies to small shops, and all manner of things. So many people say London isn't friendly, that there's no sense of community anymore. If you put the same people in the friendliest place in the world, they'd retreat into themselves. . Writing this has reminded me of a passage in Nick Hornby's last novel, A Long Way Down. I've just spent ages flicking through the book to find it. I read it on holiday, and the sun melted the glue, so all the pages keep falling out. This passage is spoken by Jess, a suicidial teenager: "You need confidence to go into small places with regular customers, small bookshops and small music shops and small restaurants and cafes. I'm happiest in the Virgin Megastore and Borders and Starbucks and Pizza Express, where no one gives a shit, and no one knows who you are. My mum and dad are always going on about how soulless those places are, and I'm like, Der. That's the point." I despise that attitude, I really do. It's people like that who are going around this world turning out the lights, making it a miserable place to live. The rest of us, we need to stick together, we need to support the things we like and denigrate the things we don't. Atmosphere. Even for an obsessive like me, it's not just about pubs and beer. It's about life.
 When we rigged up the BrewCam for the first time, there were doubters. They said that covering our fermentation with just a flimsy canopy of cling film would result in a nasty infection. When we used a lamp to illuminate our murky brew 24 hours a day, they said it'd create dodgy flavours. It looked like a bleak future lay ahead for poor old Judy Garland Stout.
 Clearly you can't keep a good brew down, because this one's our best yet. It was bottled on 12 June. It should continue to improve in the coming weeks. As you can see from the photo, it looks simply gorgeous. A thick, creamy head sits atop a delightfully dark beer. The body is on the light side for a stout. A healthy fermentation has produced a dry but gentle flavour. There's a hint of dark fruit - blackcurrant, perhaps? That's followed by a long coffee aftertaste. This certainly isn't complex, but it's deliciously drinkable and true to style. The bottle conditioned samples we've tried have beaten the kegged stuff hands down. This has led us to bottle the entirety of our porter, which came out of primary on Sunday. When we started brewing back in April, we didn't expect to be producing beer of this quality so quickly. Flush ed with success, we're looking forward to the next step: full mash brewing. Clerkenwell expects.
We'd planned a barbecue for Saturday, but rain stopped play. Fortunately, in the hearty home counties a beer festival is never far away. The Chipping Norton rugby club were staging a shindig, with 20 cask ales and the usual trimmings: dubious live music, hog roast, morris dancers and a tired looking bouncy castle.
 The choice of beers was sensible but uninspired. You'll never go short of a good pint with award winners like Crouch Vale Brewer's Gold and Mighty Oak Oscar Wilde Mild on offer, but there was little else of note. The only truly unusual beer was Titanic Riveter, a one-off blend of mild and porter. Interesting, but sadly not very nice, with a harsh bitterness that can't have been intentional.  The bands could best be described as horrifying, though I took a shine to one of the singers, a "MILF " with a mean glint in her eye. The most disturbing barrage came from "Every Hippies Dream", a combo of two middle aged men and a teenage boy, replete with tie-died shirts but lacking an apostrophe. Their inspired reworking of "Born to be Wild" into "Born to drink Mild" was breathtaking. . You either love morrismen or you loathe them. There's no middle ground. I'm a fan. However, this lot didn't seem to have their heart in it. The old boy with the giant cheese on his head added a comic touch and was the highlight of an otherwise lacklustre performance. Maybe they weren't given enough free beer? . All proceeds from the festival went toward the club. I hope they did well out of it - everything was well organised, with a sense of fun throughout. Events like this, while often unchallenging on the beer front, are a far better introduction to real ale than regular CAMRA festivals. You do miss the weirdos, though.
 Saturday 30th June 2007 was the last day before the smoking ban came into force in England.
We spent the evening at The Falkland Arms in Great Tew (OX7 4DB, Tel: 01608 683653, website). Tradition hung as heavy as the fug of smoke, as drinkers enjoyed cigarettes, cigars and pipes indoors for the last time. The Falkland is renowned for its selection of snuff and loose tobacco. I've never been a smoker, but thought I may as well mark the occasion by toking on a clay pipe.
 The pub itself is a great place I'd heartily recommend. The unspoiled building dates back to the 16th century, when it was known as The Horse and Groom. The current name recalls Lord Falkland, who inherited the Great Tew manor in 1629. A Royalist, he was killed at the battle of Newbury. One of his descendants, the 5th Viscount, gave the family's name to the British islands in the South Atlantic. The oak-beamed interior is a treasure trove of breweriana, the ceiling completely covered with hanging pint and quart pots.
 Three of the beers were from Wadworth, the Wiltshire brewery to which the pub is tied. Guests came from Thwaites, Fullers and Wychwood. Wadworth Summersault and Fullers Summer Ale were adequate thirst quenchers, best described as lager substitutes. Wychwood Owzat had much more character, with a tangy, earthy flavour not usually found in this kind of beer.
Although the selection was restricted to bitters and summer ales - the curse of the English pub - everything was in perfect condition. The massive pork pies and cheese plates, served in lieu of dinner, also won plaudits from our party.
The Falkland even has celebrity endorsement: Patrick Stewart of Star Trek fame was sat at the next table to us. You can spot him in the background on one of the photos above. He wasn't alone. Despite sporting a dodgy tache and white socks, he seems to have bagged a stunna. Well done, grandad.
A day of thwarted terrorist attacks probably wasn't a good time to travel with a dodgy looking plastic barrel. My bearded chops and Dave's menacing, detached air probably didn't do us any favours either. On Friday night we were travelling via tube and train to stay with friends in the Cotswolds, and had decided to bring half a batch of homebrew with us.
The day's events had caused chaos, and trains from Paddington were delayed. In order to allay any suspicions we felt it prudent to tap the Judy Garland Stout on the station concourse and sup away. Tip for commuters - when your train's delayed, tucking into two gallons of beer is a great way to keep stress at bay. The train was rammed so we took a chance and gatecrashed the genteel surroundings of the first class carriage. Happily, our portable beer fest aroused more curiosity than dismay. The three of us polished off the best part of the barrel before even arriving at base camp. Not a problem - a beer festival and a visit to one of England's finest pubs lay ahead.     
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Last night we visited the excellent Mager brewery guesthouse in Pottenstein (town pictured right). The dunkel - served under air pressure without extra CO2 - was world class. The town itself was dead, so after dinner we repaired to the local dive. Andy was welcomed as a returning hero by the locals who hadn't left their stools since his last visit a year ago.
We enjoyed the company of a local policeman, who drank a cocktail of beer, cola and kirch from a litre stein. We weren't able to avoid his offer to share. The beer of choice was a dunkel landbier, served from bottles that gave out the most pronounced pop when opened by Ziggy, our Saxon host. Near the end of the night, the policeman switched to water so he could drive home. He probably wouldn't have bothered, but for the watchful gaze of his old mum, who sat puffing ciggies at the bar.
