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30-08-2017, 12:28
Visit the Called to the bar site (http://maltworms.blogspot.com/2017/08/the-hanging-hooks-of-pubs-imagined-past.html)


https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FUzDibi5Dec/WaacSLXpvII/AAAAAAAADQo/7BMxUOtNL3QLZxrDacLDvdUksMzhYoAbgCLcBGAs/s320/IMG_3277.JPG (https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FUzDibi5Dec/WaacSLXpvII/AAAAAAAADQo/7BMxUOtNL3QLZxrDacLDvdUksMzhYoAbgCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_3277.JPG)
Here we are in the Alexandra Hotel (http://www.alexandrahotelderby.co.uk/) in Derby, a two-roomed trad pub that is always somewhere I make time for whenever I have time in Derby (maybe I’m also paying my respects to the late Simon Johnson (http://reluctantscooper.blogspot.co.uk/) as this was where the two of us ended up after a fun afternoon of drinking not long before he died). And so I sit with a glass of Pentrich (https://www.facebook.com/pentrichbrewingco) Citra IPA (hazy, plumpish in its fruitiness and rapier-like in its bitterness) and there is a joy in my heart as I note the hooks that hang beneath the brow of the scuffed, dark brown bar. It’s a habit I have, a tradition perhaps, or maybe a nervous tic, but all too often when I find myself standing (or sitting) at a bar, elbow in a puddle of spilt beer and crushed crisps, I always put my hand beneath the brow and search for a hook, usually something on which I can hang my rucksack (just like the chap has done in the photo). It’s a neat little aid, a helping hand to the drinker, perhaps even a link with the kind of imagined past that some pubs are so adept at.




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