It’s fair to say I’ve developed something of an obsession with Theakston’s Old Peculier. Ever since deputy ed. Katie Mather and I sat down and had a couple of pints in Manchester’s The Salisbury a year or so ago, it’s become a cornerstone of my drinking habits. Katie went on to write a very fine pr| Pellicle
There is a theory I’m working on, born from over a decade of hospitality work, that the things a society pays the least attention to often have the most to say. To be discarded and dismissed, yet to exist and to be negotiated with regardless, can tell us something about the way habits, tastes, and s| Pellicle
After dark, the Woolwich foot tunnel is a chilling prospect. For half a kilometre you hurry through a clinical, white-tiled tube under the Thames with no way of escape before emerging south-of-the-river. That was the night I ate my first curry straight after drinking my first pints of Bass in a nea| Pellicle
With its magnificent green tiled exterior blending with the restored ironmongers and sweet shop in the recreated village at St. Fagans Museum in Cardiff, the Vulcan Hotel appears unchanged since 1915.| Pellicle
About 10 years ago I was roaming along Red Bank in a part of Manchester city centre I was hopelessly unfamiliar with. On either side of me were tall stone walls topped with railway bridges, boxing me in and hiding the sun from view. Not another soul was to be seen. I sincerely hoped I was in the rig| Pellicle
The River Derwent meets the village of Ambergate at a glide. Coursing down from its source in the peat-covered Howden Moors at the northern end of the Peak District, by the time it reaches this sleepy corner of Derbyshire it feels calm and collected. Almost statesmanlike.| Pellicle
Content Warning: This article makes frequent and detailed references to suicide and severe depression, therefore reader discretion is advised. No one should struggle with their mental health alone. If you are in the UK there are several charities you can reach out for support including Mind| Pellicle
When I walk into a near-empty Persevere on a drizzly Leith weekday, its vastness swallows me up like a whale. Moments later, when I gingerly take my pint of Newbarns Pale Ale to the table and sit in one of the half-boothed banquettes, a feeling of tranquility comes over me. My initial fear of being| Pellicle
Seamus O’Hara never intended to brew a cult beer, but it doesn’t really work like that. It’s a status achieved organically, through a confluence of circumstance, serendipity, and time. The canny brewer might, with a couple of judicious decisions, nudge things in the right direction. The b| Pellicle
I. “I’m told you serve the best pint of Landlord in Sheffield,” I say to the person behind the bar of The Sportsman on Benty Lane. “Well we definitely serve enough of it,” they reply with a smirk and a shrug as they hand me my copper-hued pint.| Pellicle
In Britain, we’re wasteful with our national history. There’s so much of it just lying around, getting in the way, and we persist in thinking of it as boring. It’s old rocks; dead white men in powdered wigs; lists of boring dates and names. Instead, we fetishize the new, always looking to be the fir| Pellicle
