Com. bine harvesters.

"Morning Goldy."

"Hiya Fugg, long time no see!"

"Well no, I'm afraid my farmers have been playing up a bit."

"I can see how that would be a pain in the arse."

"Tell me about it!"
"Though I've heard through the hop bine that our mates in the lower field are currently being hacked off by a bunch of young lads in a tractor, so things could be worse."

"Yes, I'd heard that too, but I'm told that they're going to get stuck into a few beers later and get thoroughly threshed, so I wouldn't feel too sorry for them."

"Nice for them."
"Though what with my farmers and all, I think I'll spend a bit of time drying out, myself."

"Very wise Fugg, very wise."
"Anyhow, I'd better hop to it, the missus is a bit highly strung today!"

Out with the old and in with the bold.

Having drunk in The Montefiore Arms for the past fifteen years, around three quarters of Andy's tenure, and being assured that the pub would remain largely unchanged, I was a little alarmed when the first thing to occur upon the ensconcement of our new landlord was the removal of Guinness from availability at the bar.
Not a big problem to me, as I really can't be doing with any of those smooth, creamy and thick beers, and it'll certainly save a few bob on the bottles of mostly nitrogen gas which lend the stuff it's thickness, but it was a change none the less.
Though it transpires that Andy was the only one who ever drank the stuff (except on St. Guinness day, when loyal patriots would hold their noses and down a few pints), and that the Liverpool sticker will remain in one of the door windows, even though Andy is their only supporter in the entire Eastcliff of Ramsgate, so as it doesn't seem like the place is being overwhelmed by all things Gadd, with Andy becoming a dim and distant memory.

Phew, eh?

The Tab Room Bublic House.

If the line-up of beers is going to look anything like this on the day, I'm really rather looking forward to running up a tab here!

Pie in the sky.

I'm no stranger to seeing things like this after a few pints of Green Hop Ale, as taking a powerful soporific while trying to stay awake can have a mildly hallucinogenic effect.
Though I feel I should point out that I'd not actually drunk any of the stuff when I snapped this outside of The Red Lion in Ramsgate yesterday evening, and if it was indeed a hallucination, I'm led to understand that they're normally buggers to take pictures of!

Hmmmmm.

Hops skip to the jump.

For your delectation, across the jump in The Montefiore Arms from 7pm tonight (17/9/14), I'm given to understand that the first samplings of Gadds' Green Hop Ale will be undertaking the final leg of their epic voyage from Humphrey's farm to the loo.
Hopefully see you there? (The pub, not the loo.)

One small stop for farmers, one giant hop for beerkind.

With the promise of a few more weeks of warm weather and sunshine this year, a good deal of farmers across the County have taken the rather unusual step of delaying some of their hop harvesting, normally underway during the first week of September, for a couple of weeks, to take advantage of the chance to increase their yield somewhat.
An irritating move for those brewers who were 'hop'ing to get cracking on with brewing their green hop ales, but from a front line soldier's point of view, with only a dim appreciation of the consternation caused back in the ammunition factory, the results were looking quite spectacular yesterday (13/9/14).
In fact, I don't remember the last time I saw hops looking as beautiful and bountiful as this.
Ta very much to the New Inn, Canterbury for running short of beer and affording me the chance to drop into Pedding Farm on the way back to the brewery.

 Though this doesn't mean that I'm any less keen than anyone else to get stuck into the first of this year's freshly hopped brews!