Being out of the country
for prolonged periods does have some advantages: One
tends to look at new developments with a fresh pair
of eyes, unswayed by public opinion or misguided crusades;
some aspects of English life remain frozen in a better
time (English football pre-Heysel for example); and
I really do like returning to find English beer.
The Hogshead at Eton provided
one of those cases where ignorance was momentarily
bliss, until we figured it out. We were very impressed
upon entering this establishment. Rough-hewn wood
floors, half-a-dozen real ales on tap (they had even
taken the relatively mainstream Boddingtons off-line
for that evening's beer festival) and a distinctly
old world feel to the whole place. I fell to my knees
at the sight of the team of pumps proudly vertical
at the bar.
My wife was the
first to spot tell-tale signs. A plastic menu with
‘2 for £5.99’ emblazoned across
it. Then we noticed that the exposed brickwork, seemingly
created by generations of punters leaning against
the plaster, plastered, was just a little too neat
& tidy, the work of a creative bricklayer and
a plasterer in league with the owners. And indeed
the owners are Whitbread, a national brewer who has
strung together dozens of these sorts of pubs, all
called Hogshead.
I call it the McDonalds
Mentality.... if you go into a Hogshead in Eton you
can expect the same wide range of beers, the same
standard menu, the same old world feeling as when
you go into a Hogshead in Glasgow or Sheffield.
This is an anachronism.
This is not what pubs are about. Pubs are about individuality
and local influence.
Whitbread is apparently
proud of what they have done: “Hogshead Pubs
are inspired by all the tradition that our heritage
brings and are designed to deliver everything today’s
customers desire. We are driven by the ambition to
provide our customers with the best we possibly can.
We love our product, especially our beers - a minimum
of six cask ales, the best range of bottled Belgian
beers you will find anywhere and a fabulous selection
of draught beers including the ‘white magic’
that is Hoegaarden.” And so it goes on.
However, I feel myself
torn. On the one hand, I felt as if I was in a Den
of Heretics and I should flee, flailing my arms in
horror at the predictability of it all. On the other
hand, they did have six hand-pulled beers, mostly
local. And it was not a bad place as such.
True, the menu was totally
unappealing, but it was inexpensive and reasonably
unobtrusive. Either way, it was an experience.
