I've always had this
almost romantic vision of St George slaying a huge, grotesque and
other worldly beast of a dragon. This huge creature, covered in thick
hard scales and teeth the size of lambs and wings as broad as a tall
ships sails. St George, a brave patron for more than one nation.
Slaying this monster, driving his spike into the animals chest and
standing proud above its cold dead body with his battered shield in
one hand, a bloody sword in the other and his foot on top of the
dragons skull.
That romantic notion
was destroyed as soon as I saw several paintings from various eras,
all depicting a different story. The hero, a knight, St George
slaying the ungodly and unruly beast. In most if not all the
paintings, the beast turned out to be no larger than an average sized
horse and quite often took the form of a snake. What happened to this
big dragon larger than a double decker bus, who decided the dragon
would be no larger than a horse.
If there was anything
remotely religious or patriotic about me, I would have been
devastated, dealt a crushing blow with my imagination getting the
better of me. But I'm not. The creature I'd assumed was as big as a
mountain and devoured men like a child eating popcorn, burning entire
villages to the ground in a similar scale to us starting a small
bonfire. It was all a lie.
The hero who slain the
toilet demon was not a piece of fiction. This brave individual
tackled masses of human excrement in the form of a solid brown snake.
The hero slaughtered the big brown beast making life a safer and more
pleasant place. Life being the interior of the 'Euston Tap' and the
metaphorical toilet demon happened to be a leaky drainage pipe coming
from the upstairs toilets, seeping through the ceiling and causing an
horrific stench throughout the establishment.
Not only had this demon
been vanquished, in its place was now peace, calm, beauty, serenity,
the picturesque vision of deer and birds feeding gracefully by the
shore a peaceful lake.
Sanity had been
restored. Life once again held value. No fictitious dragons or scaly
horse/snake like creatures needed to be harmed.
Without the putrid
stench of death and disappointment, the place had a very different
aura. Something bright, colourful, almost celebratory was in the air.
It hadn't been long since I'd been back from Australia, sampling
hundreds of Antipodean offerings, I craved some good English beer..
or whatever decent I could find. And find we did, Frank and I. I
mentioned in a post a while ago about how fantastic an establishment
the Euston Tap was and is. It still is and was a million, billion,
trillion times better since the toilet demon had been slain.
Already seeing into the
future with no sours, I concealed the unhappiness of my inner self by
allowing my outer self to enjoy some really good beer. With a couple
of mix ups, we ended up having the odd pint instead of a half.
Luckily they weren't the ones that were upwards of 7%. The beer was
very good so none of it went to waste, it just meant that overall we
drank a lot more.
Frank had a couple of
Stouts, and I was on a Red IPA, a Pale, more IPAs, anything,
everything. I was glad to be back in England and what a fine place to
announce that and come to terms with it. I did try this oddly
sounding beer, a 'White Chocolate IPA' from Summer Wine Brewery.
It stood out to me, big white lettering on a black board, white in
white. I had a half of it and wasn't that taken by it if I'm honest.
In my mouth it felt and tasted unsure of what it was, it had
smoothness and sweetness but wasn't what I had expected or wanted in
an IPA. It did have the buttery oiliness you get in white chocolate
due to the fat content of the cocoa butter. It was in no way
horrible, far from. All I'm saying is that I personally didn't enjoy
it. They do make some amazing Pales and other IPAs that are
definitely worth sampling, and their branding is brilliant.
My penultimate drink of
the night was 'Liquid Monstrous', an Imperial Red IPA from one of the
most experimental and brave breweries in the UK, Siren. I'd had it
before and knew exactly what I was getting into, a 7.4% beer that
would do more than hit the spot.
Originally I wasn't
looking forward to being back but after drinking with Frank, enjoying
good beer and great conversation, things were looking up. Time to
leave, and I readied myself by putting on my 'High Viz' cycling
jacket and zipping it up. Just as we were about to leave, Frank
decided he'd go for a wee, partly out of desperation and curiosity.
He'd never been upstairs before, I hadn't until that evening either.
He ascended the most elaborately and beautifully decorated wrought
iron spiral staircase I'd ever seen. It was a sight to behold, a
piece of Victorian engineering at its finest. So nice in fact that I
would be happy to have it as some kind of focal piece in my house if
I ever get one. The only toilets in the place were the naughty little
buggers that had caused so much grief beforehand.
While he was up there I
took the opportunity to have a 'cheeky' half waiting for his return.
The barmaid obliged, served me one and there I was, another half pint
in hand. Moments away from drinking it. It took me so long to
acknowledge what had happened that I still had half my half left when
Frank appeared.
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