Of
course, I had to try as many as possible, and with a
nod to discerning customers such as myself, the landlord
happily provided me with a shot glass and a taste of
whichever I wanted. Shot glasses are of course not a
legal measure of beer. Customers receive beer in third-pint,
half-pints or multiples of half-pints (ten-ounce glasses
rather than the US eight-ounce). I have never seen a
third-pint of beer being sold in a pub, but the law's
the law. This measure law puts paid to a rather quaint
story regarding the origin of the phrase "Minding
your P's and Q's". In olden days, ale could be
ordered by pints and quarts. So in old England, when
customers got unruly, the bartender would yell at them
to mind their own pints and quarts and settle down.
Except today it is really "T's and H's" for
thirds and halves.
And
while I am on the subject of measures, I find it amazing
that some breweries instruct their tenants to either
fill the pint glasses full or 'over 95% full' and to
only top up if requested to do so by the customer. Despite
Ted's fervent objections, he may not have been in the
legal right every time. This is horrendous. Or was.
Now we have the introduction of the lined glass, a glass
bigger than a pint with a line at the 20-ounce level.
Great idea. Now enforce it.
Anyway,
Great Brington. The village has had its moments of fame
over the years, mostly through the Washingtons and the
Spencers, but rarely was there as much mayhem as was
seen in 1997, when Princess Diana was killed in car
accident in Paris. The USA Today newspaper had this
to say at the time:
"There is no indication that misnamed Great
Brington, where twenty generations of Spencers have
lived and died for five hundred years, can cope with
this destiny. One street, called Main Street, weaves
through all eighty-four thatched-roof houses. One pub,
the Fox and Hounds, pours the ales and lagers. And one
shop serves as a combination post office, bank and dry
cleaners. Imagine if Elvis' tomb was situated not in
hotel-stocked Memphis but in some Tennessee town no
bigger than a WalMart. So the prospect of pilgrimages
to come has residents of Great Brington nervous. "If
this becomes a continuous thing, it could be quite a
headache," says Marcel Van Cleemput, a retired
toy-car designer who has lived in the area for forty
years. "I hope we don't get the type of people
who followed Elvis. We’re hoping for a well-behaved
crowd"."
The
church is close to the pub and should be visited, as
should most of these small village churches. In this
case, the church has been fortunate to have wealthy
and generous benefactors in the Spencer family and their
name features predominantly in the memorials to villagers
past.
The
Washington Post had more to say about the influx of
tourists:
"The Fox and Hounds Pub, the only watering
hole in town, ran out of food. The postmistress, weary
of reporters and curiosity seekers, locked her door.
Even the town historian, a retired doctor who's become
an expert on village lore, began to confuse his dates,
bushed from talking to everyone who wants to know more
about what is becoming one of the most famous burial
sites in the world."
Fortunately,
Diana was buried on the grounds of nearby Althorp House
and not in the lovely village church, so much of the
bedlam was avoided. Not that the pub was pleased at
missing out, and recently changed their name to the
'Althorp Coaching House' even though it probably never
house a single one of the Althorp horses. How sad is
that?
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