Most Memorable Drinking Sessions

I suppose paradoxically the most memorable drinking sessions are the ones that you don't remember much about. But now and again one will come along so good that it returns bit by bit and beer by beer through the mists of ones early morning sub-consciousness, and the ensuing hangover. Such an experience happened to me a few days ago and I thought I'd share it with you and provide a thread for anyone to record similar experiences before they disappear forever.

I'd taken a day off last Thursday to give me a longer Easter break and decided to head for a country pub that had so far evaded me. Not easy to get to, buses only run on weekdays and then only three a day. But I'd found a bus that would drop me about a 30 minute walk away just before opening time and jumped on expectantly. This is where the local council took a hand in proceedings by deciding to undertake some major roadworks. Soon the bus was running 40 minutes late and we were still in a slow moving queue. I think it must have been some sort of inner force that made me look out the window and see a local PotY and immediately look at my watch and see it was 5 minutes before opening time. Easy decision, sod this bus, I'm going for a pint, I can do the other pub another day. Pre-amble over.

And so it was that I entered The Sportsman in Croxley Green on the dot of opening time to be greeted by a smiling guv'nor who, presumably remembering me from previous visits, bemoaned the fact that I'd just missed a great 6.5%'er that had run out the previous evening. Six handpumps faced me, a couple of local Red Squirrel beers, one from Tring, one from Coach House, a fantastic Black Beauty Porter from Mauldons and TT Landlord. After a couple of sedate pints I'd clearly got my drinking head on and set out for the challenge of going along the pumps. Spotted another punter reading a programme about the Ship & Mitre beer festival and we got chatting about Liverpool pubs.

Very soon the six pump challenge had been completed and I was looking at the bottles. A Chimay Red (may have been a Blue) was next then a La Chouffe I think. The guv'nor then conspiratorially lowered his voice and said "I think I may have something that you guys will like". He reached into the back of the fridge, proudly swaggered over to us nursing a bottle of Brewdog Tokyo and with almost a giggle said "it's the 18.2% one". Well what can you do, I had to buy it, especially at only £5 a bottle which I reckon must be about half the price elsewhere, even if you can find it. So he bought out a couple of decorative bowl glasses, as befits a beer of this magnitude, and I shared a bottle with my new best Scouse mate, with a few sips being offered around the bar. Bloody wonderful stuff, smooth and drinkable, quite reminiscent of port I thought, if you've tasted it you'll know what I mean, if you haven't then do whatever it takes to get your hands on a bottle.

By this time the guv'nor was on a roll and soon emerged from a back room with a dusty bottle of De Ranke XX (I had to take a note of that one and hope it's the correct spelling). It was a 6.2% Belgian Bitter very hoppy, almost American in style I thought. He shared it around the bar telling a story about some sort of a link with the Dark Star Brewery. Can't remember what it was but if anyone out there knows more, pray tell.

That's about as far as my recollection of the afternoon goes - so far. I must have managed to climb onto a bus and get home somehow. And to think I only went into the place because of the roadworks. They have a beer festival next weekend and I believe he may have another bottle or two of Brewdog Tokyo lurking in that fridge.

Brilliant!!!

I have told this story before somewhere so apologies for any repetition. Many years ago I was a regular at the Windmill in Dartford where we used to run various darts teams. One of the regulars by the name of Angus bought a pub called the Blue Bell in a village called Luddington near Scunthorpe and a few weeks after he took over, a group of about 15 of us hired a mini bus for a weekender at his new pub loosely based around a ladies darts match challenge between the 2 pubs. We arrived on the Saturday afternoon had a few “welcome” pints (probably about 5 or 6) before a few of us decided to see what the other pub in the village was like.

After a couple of pints there we returned to the Blue Bell for the darts match itself, an event that seemed to have attracted a serious crowd from the village. Angus had laid on a good spread and a live band and needless to say the bar was pretty much a free for all with everyone taking a spell serving no matter what their state of inebriation was. The band didn’t start until nearly midnight and at about 1 o’clock a disgruntled villager banged on the pub door to complain about the noise. He threatened to call the police unbeknown to him that the local police force were in fact already in the pub having a good time along with everyone else.

The party went on until about 4 or 5 in the morning when we all crashed out on whatever bit of floor or seating was available (someone even slept on the pool table). The cleaner turned up around 8 o’clock to find a mass of groaning bodies around which she had to hoover and Angus’s faithful but quite sinister alsation sniffing around and growling at anything that moved.

I have always maintained that the Luddington session was probably the most I have ever drunk in one go (I think I calculated at one stage I had had over 25 pints spread over about 16 hours). Somehow we managed a trip to York on the way home where we probably had a few more beers before our regular Sunday evening back at the Windmill. Sadly, both pubs are now closed.

I still don't know who won the darts match

One of my best sessions was in Folkestone on our honeymoon.

We were staying in a pub opposite Folkestone train station and went out for a drink round Folkestone we did about 5 pubs near the harbour then decided to walk up the hill to the Earl Grey this was a Shepherd Neame house that we quite liked,the pub was fairly quiet and i ordered a pint and half of Master brew and we sat down then a large group of men walked in ordered drinks and sat qiute near to us we started chatting and these blokes were from Northern Ireland and were in the UDA or UDR it was something to do with the army,once they found out we were on our honeymoon they would'nt let us buy anymore drinks as soon as our glasses were empty they went to the bar and another Master Brew was in front of us this went on untill closing time and we were quite merry by then we said our goodbyes and staggered back to the pub we were staying in.

Once we got back to the pub we were just going up to bed and the landlord called us back he was also Irish he said "we are having a late drink you car'nt go up yet its your honeymoon" so we sat on a couple of bar stools with a few of the locals who were also having a late drink,we were drinking Whitbread beers and getting drunker by the hour then the landlord said lets go on the Guinness after a few more Guinness's the landlord said ime hungry then went into the kitchen and came out with a plate full of chicken legs he said these are left over from dinner time so we started troffing chicken legs and also drinking Guinness.
When we finally went to bed i can vaguely remember crawling up the stairs.

The following morning we got up for breakfast which was served in the pub, we were very hungover then the landlords wife said "where are all those chicken legs that i cooked for today" we cracked up laughing and the landlord said what chicken legs.

This was a great session that we still talk about and this all happened in 1986.

Not a massive session but well loved , back in 1994ish the Mrs was nagging me to take her away for a weekend so after a quick look through Daltons Weekly and a few phone calls(how we lived before the internet) and a weekend break in Torquay was booked , as we drove down past Bristol on the Friday the good lady asked "where are Shrewsbury playing this week ?" to which the slightly mumbled answer was "err Torquay" not amused.
Anyway Friday night was a meal and a wander round a few pubs and an earlish night , Saturday was the usual look round town a few pints and dinner then up to Plainmoor for the Match (0-0) back to the hotel wash and change then a few pints round town , got back to the hotel slightly wobbly at about 11pm , the hotel bar was open so we popped in for a nightcap , there were 6 of us in the bar with the owner serving behind the bar , after a few more pints we started to sample his collection of Malt Whisky , everyone was having a great time when the owner suddenly said "i have got to stop serving now" , "why" came the reply "your a private hotel you can serve all night" , "yes " he said "but its 8am and i have to go and cook you breakfast":D
Could not do it now

The Mill Inn, Aberystwyth, was the king of Sunday night lock-ins back during my student days around the turn of the Millennium. Guy, who was in charge at the time, was massively disorganised and often turned up with no float beyond a fistful of tenners - just like the majority of the punters who had been to the cashpoint earlier to withdraw £20 in anticipation. So a drunken IOU system was run behind the bar and somehow it always worked out alright. God knows how.

It's worth knowing that, in a last spasm of Methodism, Aber was 'dry' on a Sunday until the early 90's!

Anyway, a typical night would start with half-a-dozen of us turning up at 6 for the IndieSoc committee meeting. The quiz would then start at 8 and run until 10. 10:15 was 'lock down' time, with curtains being drawn, lights dimmed and everyone reminded to sush down (difficult after 6 pints of Abbot at this point) but it usually worked well.

One particular night, at around 1am, the speakers crackled into life with what was quickly identified by the naive (eg me) as the local plods radio transmission, reporting that they were on their way to George Street opposite. Cue Guy, switching the lights off to complete darkness and urging us (10 pints to the good) to follow him upstairs. Upstairs, we knew, was home to a bunch students. To my surprise, the students appeared as the 20-or-so of us stumbled upstairs and proceeded to make us all cups of tea rounds of toast as we sat on their sofa, floor, tables, in fact anywhere where there was a space. Half a dozen punters immediately fell asleep in the corridoor.

Meanwhile, the speakers were still giving us a running commentary. Tension increased when the panda car was spotted outside and two plods were peering over towards the pub. Relief, however, was provided by the crackled line 'no sign of the reported male headbutting the wall'!

And off they went. Suffice to say we all trooped downstairs and had a swift one for the road before a slightly earlier finish than usual - 1:30am as opposed to the usual 3am... :drinkup::drinkup:

One of my most memorable sessions was very topically on the day of the previous royal wedding.
We had all arranged to meet up here in Edmonton http://www.pubsgalore.co.uk/pubs/25552/ at opening time.
for those of you old enough to remember it was a glorious sunny day, and around mid afternoon one of the group suggested we take advantage of the glorious day to travel to this pub in Enfield http://www.pubsgalore.co.uk/pubs/27478/ on the basis that the two are connected by a small shallow river known as Salmons Brook and it would take about 45 minutes and give a break from drinking.
This we duly did...
Then at some stage early evening, some wag suggested we traverse back to the original pub, but this time walk in the brook rather than on the path along side it.
And by this time the alcohol had dulled the sense buds of a large group of 20 somethings and so off we set.
This time it took significantly longer and involved other activities such as 3 man camel fights in the middle of the brook.
The following weekend when we all met up in the same pub, everyone realised that we must have travelled back to the Beehive, but several had no recollection of how this happened or how shoes and trousers had become ruined in the process...
Will be in a pub again tomorrow, but if I imbibe anywhere near the quantity I did during the last Royal wedding, this will probably be my last posting on PuG.....

Walked into a pub (the Pot Still) in Glasgow last week at about 8pm intending to have a swift pint before moving on. It wasn't particularly busy but I steered myself to the raised section at the back of the pub thinking I could get a couple of decent snaps of the pub for the site. Walked up the steps and found 4 musicians spaced around the seats with various instruments and thought I was intruding on a private practice session. Before I could turn round and go back into the main bar they had ushered me in with a big welcome, asked if could sing (I can't) or play anything (barely) and if not just enjoy the session. Spent the next 3 hours being entertained with a host of traditional Scottish folk songs and stories behind them and given a guided tour of some of the more unfamiliar instruments (I'll never look at bagpipes in the same way again!). Throughout the evening a host of other musicians came and went, all amazingly talented and approachable. At 11.30 I was still there, half wrecked but totally overwhelmed at my evening's experience. A fantastic night. If anyone is in Glasgow on a Sunday evening, check it out - they apparently meet every week to swap stories and songs. I was the only member of the audience and I felt honoured.

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Originally Posted by RogerB

Spent the next 3 hours being entertained with a host of traditional Scottish folk songs and stories behind them and given a guided tour of some of the more unfamiliar instruments (I'll never look at bagpipes in the same way again!). Throughout the evening a host of other musicians came and went, all amazingly talented and approachable.

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Beer and live traditional music is a marriage made in heaven, as far as I'm concerned. Sounds wonderful.