Bottled or Tinned?

An American gentleman, if there is such a thing, posted, on behalf of his dog who struggles with keyboards, about the Brewing of Beer.  This is a subject much loved by people with nothing else to do.  A blog worth reading I say.

Naturally I was intrigued.  The detailed information even going far back into History to the dawn of life in Sumer 5000 years ago.  Here women brewed beer as this was a mainstay in those crowded cities, it was issued to the workforce as payment along with a bowl of food, and women had nothing else to do with their time.  The inference of the Dogs long tale, which is well worth a read, being that beer was always brewed by women until men took over.  Typical feminism!  This shows how strong a hold his wife has on him!

 

 

This reminded me of my third job, I having quickly been disposed off by the first and second ones for the rather unfortunate talent of being totally useless.  For four years I developed this talent in the office taking orders over the phone from pubs around the nation and pushing bits of paper together to organise loads for the lorry drivers.  Actual 'work' I knew not.  It was not a bad time for a ignorant 16 or so year old and when I reached 18 I received an allowance of beer for myself FREE! 

 

 

 

Tennents produced a famous Lager, the kind of beer drunk by youths just to get drunk rather than real beer for taste.  This was not brewed in Edinburgh as far as I knew, that came from the Glasgow brewery but as far as I know both have long closed so I no longer know where it originates these days.

However, each day I passed through the huge noisy bottling plant where all to often bottles of 'Piper Export' were passing by.  This replaced the failing 'Husky Export' which had to be put down.  'Piper' itself was also 'improved' as sales were poor, but in thosed ays all beer was losing flavour and large breweries cared not for taste. 

During the late 60's and through the 70's both 'Tennents,' part of the huge 'Bass Charrington Brewery,' and 'Scottish Brewers,' chose to lower the quality of their beers and produced cheap, easily made simple beers.  The quality of the public houses reflected the unoriginal taste of the beer.  This was universal, in England 'Watneys' produced 'Red Barrel' beer, somewhat akin to left over washing up water, but this came in large '7 Pint' tins which found favour with partygoers who care little what they drink.  

In days of yore beer was counted in shillings, 60/- was light beer, 70/- mild and 80/- 'Heavy.'  The term 'India Pale Ale' I believe came about as 60/- beer lasted the voyage to the Raj in India better than any other.  

However, at Tennents the slop we sold included 'Toby Beer,' and English intrusion that was taken in lorries equipped with large containers filled with beer.  For some reason Miners welfare clubs found this popular.  Interestingly, the miners of Ayrshire like light beer, the 60/-, but it had to be 'Extra Dark.'  If you take a barrel of beer and add a thimble of dye it becomes 'Dark,' two thimbles it becomes 'Extra Dark.'  The miners of Fife however refuse this dark 60/-, indeed, if you gave it to them they would refuse it because "The taste is off."  The Ayrshire men felt the same in reverse.  

The Lager cans decorated with the 'Lovelies' you see at the top were very popular at the time.  By the 70's however ugly girls were being upset as the attention of men became lodged on looking at the cans and not them, so they shouted about  'early sexism,' and had them stopped.  The girls themselves continued to pose as far as I know elsewhere, too grown up to follow such nonsense, and they made money.

Eventually, just as I was enjoying my work, the girls answering the phones needed me they said, and I needed them more than I ever said, but change was coming.  The office was a place where we talked openly about many things and life was good, but Jesus intervened.  One day as I collected my free beers he arrived and said "Oi! Walk this way."  So I did, sort off, moving to London and soon working in a charitable organisation 'Helping people.'  At least that what I said.  

By this time people were sick of grotty beer and a campaign began to return to a higher standard.  Soon smaller breweries were arriving and offering proper beer again, and today they appear to be in many peoples back gardens.  Not that they can sell much during LockDown unless a supermarket takes them on.  The slop mostly died away, Tennents Lager continues, youth gurgles it down and men over 35 drink stuff with flavour.  

Is it too late for one now?

 

Renovation

The Death Trap Whisky Bond

For some reason today I contemplated my first job, way back in 1966 before you were born, and made the strange discovery that almost all my previous workplaces had disappeared!  The whisky bond where I singularly failed to make any impression moved shortly afterwards outside of Edinburgh. The death trap building itself may well stand down the bottom of Leith Walk but I have no idea if it remains in use.  Wooden floors, stairs and tons of cardboard boxes mixed with a vat of whisky and thousands of bottles of the stuff do not enable Health & Safety men to sleep at night.  Having departed before being encouraged to leave I moved to Slateford Road where a company making biscuit tins and their plastic inserts paid me almost £6 a week to prove I was not cut out for that job. The company realised that making the inserts was more profitable than the tins and last I heard were developing that side of the business.  The do not exist today.

W&P

Today a modern housing development that greased somebody's hand stands there.  In the modern world 15 and 16 year old's seldom find employment, the government keeps them at school to avoid paying them dole money, but in the past companies throughout the land were employing feckless youth who took the money, chatted up the women unsuccessfully and offered little in return, at least that's what the company secretary told me with an uncompromising stare.

Shortly after this conversation I found work at the brewery.

Tenents Heriot Brewery

Here I remained almost four years, enjoyable years at that.  The work was not difficult, even I could do it, the women threw themselves at me, well if you used a can or two of 'Husky Export' that is, and when my life changed I departed for London and a new life.  The people, almost all of whom I actually got on with, gathered together sufficient funds to pay a one-way train ticket to London for me.  Wasn't that nice?  Now the one time brewery, not far from Tynecastle Park home of the world famous Heart of Midlothian, is a block of overpriced flats.  So that's three jobs where the company has found the premises demolished after I left.  This cannot go on can it...?

After a year of London life, where I found a church where Jesus would speak to me and a job with a charity rehousing folks, I came back to what appeared to be old fashioned Edinburgh, well it was 1972!  The shops shut at five in the evening whereas in London they stayed open longer and one worked 24 hours! After a few months away it seemed so boring to a 20 year old.  I was employed eventually at a Cash & Carry where I happily upset people daily.  Deciding to do something a bit more worthy I embarked on a healing career by joining the Royal Infirmary as an orderly.  Here I was so good the other wards attempted to head hunt me!  I wish they had!  While happy at the time I discovered just how difficult women could be to work with.  Until then I had found no trouble working however in this ward bitchiness from the sister towards her superiors and to her nursing staff did not enable a happy atmosphere.  The patients, even the female ones were better behaved, there again I suppose Sister had the needles!  I returned to the Cash & Carry for another year or two.  Both the Royal Infirmary and the Cash & Carry have been redeveloped!  That's five jobs and five redevelopments, so far.  Naturally I should add the building we resided in while working for the charity London no longer operates as we did.  Our 'Hippy' like approach did not go down to well and that place is now someones home.  The organisation has become another council and who knows what goes on with them today!  The old hospital now has many grand flats, for the rich.  

In 1975 it was important to return to that church in London.  This meant leaving the family that I missed, especially those lovely nieces, how hard that was, and found a few months work in a highways depot in Finchley.  That is now a small housing estate.  After a few months I moved to a slum in Swiss Cottage, since redeveloped, and worked at Maida Vale Hospital for several years. 

This was my best ever employment.  Whether the others agree I know not but this place still appears in my dreams at times.  Happy place to work, something new each day and the people on the whole good to me.  Working amongst the long term sick and others dying gives a differing view of the world.  On occasion this place appears in my dreams and I suspect appear in the ladies dreams also.....what..oh!  The hospital is now a block of flats.

Sadly my long years which followed at Selfridges, in the vans, warehouse and then dreadful office, did not result in the stores imminent collapse.  Maybe I was unnoticed there?  Running from that dead end to temp work and eventually I escaped to the wilderness of Essex.  Here those who employed me know about it.  One closed the warehouse and moved, actually two did that.  One almost collapsed but thanks to cost cutting, e.g dumping staff, survived and one was badly run then collapsed, one lost the account and died and Royal Mail has been sold off in a disgraceful manner and soon will become like the private energy companies, greedy, expensive and out of control. 

How strange I find that so many places that once saw me wandering about in a dream no longer exist.  Was it ever thus I wonder.....?  

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