Mild Musings (part 2,390)

I was thinking about Mild today. As I'm sure you often do. While I was walking the mean streets of my neighbourhood.

Only joking. It's rather nice, really. Far too good for the likes of us. I'm surprised they let us in.

Back to Mild. I was thinking of the choice that was available in some of the country. Where you knew if you went into a tied house from any brewery, you'd find a Mild. If you travelled around a bit, you had dozens to choose from. Even if you stuck to only cask.

In Nottingham, each of the three local breweries - Home, Shipstone and Hardy & Hanson - had a Dark Mild in all their pubs. Though the last didn't have any houses in the city centre. Bass Charrington had quite a few pubs. I'm sure they must have sold some sort of Dark Mild. Probably XXXX from Tadcaster. But I never went in any of their pubs. When there was usually a Shippo's pub close by, why the hell would I? It was my favourite of the three Nottingham Milds. Not too sweet, like Hardy & Hansons. Home Mild was decent, too. But I could get that in Newark. Shippo's I couldn't.

Despite mostly being a Tetley town, in Leeds, there were other Milds around. Websters did a Dark Mild. As did Sam Smiths. Bass had XXXX, a bland beer I never took to. John Smiths and Whitbread must have had ones, too. But, again, I never went in any of their pubs. As they didn't sell cask. Tell a lie, I think I was dragged into the Skyrack a couple of times. Can't remember what I drank there. Almost forgot. Whitelocks had Younger's No. 3, which is sort of like a strong Dark Mild

Neither of those examples were particularly diverse towns, in terms of tied houses. For some reason, Loughborough had a particularly good spread of ownership. I think at least eight or nine different breweries. All with their Milds.

Manchester, home to several local breweries, offered Boddington, Robinson, Oldham, Lees, Hyde, Holt, Wilson, Greenall Whitley (boo, hiss*), Sam Smiths, Tetley. Doubtless some keg Bass and Whitbread, too.

Who under 60 was able to find a pint of Mild there waiting for them in around every corner? I didn't realise at the time how special that was.

In London Mild had all but disappeared by the time I had my first tentative half pint.

Which is why I sometimes strayed from the real ale path. And drank evil keg. Whitbread Best Mild a couple of times in London. Not hoping that it might be good. Which it wasn't. I simply wanted to drink Mild. Even if it was a tastless parody of the style. (I'm glad I did now, because I got to drink on of the Chiswell Street beers. Albeit breed in Luton by then.)

There. I think that was a pretty cohesive argument.



* I hated Greenall Whitley because the fuckwits than ran it fucked up some of my favourite breweries. Destroyed the beers, then shut the breweries down. Wem and Shipstone are two good examples. The pised around with the recipe of Shipstone bitter and made it a far worse beer. Luckily, they didn't play around with the Mild.
 

Permitted output again

I've been able to extract a little more information about permitted output just after WW II.

It comes from the annual report of Tennant Brothers of Sheffield. These reports are often quite whiney. Usually moaning about the high rate of taxation and government interference in their business.

In this case, they had a good reason to moan.

"The difficulties that have confronted us during the year have been immeasurably greater than any previous year, not excepting the war years. Our tenants and managers also have done their utmost to carry out wishes of the Justices, and have considered on every occasion the public interest.

There has been, in spite of climatic and economic conditions no relaxation in the demand for our products. The compulsory 15 per cent reduction in brewing materials was not completely offset by the fall of 10 per cent, in gravity brought about by Government order in August, 1946, and the combined effect was a considerable contraction in permitted output compared with the basic year. Brewings had to be further curtailed, due to the electricity cuts and coal shortage Unfortunately, the rationing of our customers had to be strictly enforced throughout the period. The effect of full employment and high wages coincident with a shortage of beer and spirits — particularly spirits — has made the position doubly difficult. Furthermore.

we have already been warned that there will be increases in the price of malt and coal and, in addition, costs of freight, carriage, rates and overheads generally, will tend to rise."
Nottingham Journal - Wednesday 15 October 1947, page 2.

The price of everything was going, the government had reduced the quantity of materials available for brewing and reduced gravities by 10%. Though at least excise duty wasn't increasing. That remained at 286s 5.5d per standard barrel from 1944 to 1948.

The immediate post-war years were difficult for everyone in the UK, not just brewers. Despite workers having money, there was often little for them to spend it on. There wasn't even enough beer to go around. Dark days indeed.

Best beer towns (part two)

Got to get this finished. Almost forgot. Off to the US in a few hours.

Part two of an even for me less than inspiring series. I think it's about run its course with this post. Much as I love the 4-D idea, quite a bit of my past was less than scintillating, beer-wise. Pretty much always found something drinkable, except for that year in Teheran. Just an excuse for more nostalgia, really.

3. Nottingham 1978
Nottingham's pubs were mostly in the hands of three local breweries: Home Ales, Shipstone's and Hardy & Hanson. Their pubs were mostly very traditional, almost all sold cask beer and were cheap. Funny that in an area with healthy competition and few outlets for big brewers that the prices were lower than elsewhere. You only really had 6 draught beers to choose from - Bitter and Mild form each of the three. But they all had there own characteristics and were almost universally in good condition.
Beers: Shippos's Mild, Home Mild, Shippo's Bitter.
Best pubs: Queen's Hotel (very handy for the station), Lincolnshire Poacher, Sir John Borlase Warren.
Today: All three breweries are sadly gone, though Star Bitter is a recreation of Shippo's Bitter and the Shipstone's brand has recently been revived.

4. East Berlin 1987
My second Iron Curtain contender. Many hurtful lies have been told about East German beer. Mostly by those who never actually drank any of the stuff. East Berlin pubs, if you could get a seat, were great fun. The beers most generally available - Berliner Pils and Schultheiss Berliner Weisse - were pretty damn good. The latter especially. It's a beer I still dream about. Plus you could often find bottles of Porter in shops. And a couple of places sold Pisner Urquell and Budvar. That's a good enough selection for me.
Beers: Schultheiss Berliner Weisse, Burgerbräu Berliner Pilsner, any Porter
Best pubs: Feierabend Klause,
Today: Pretty much nothing. All the breweries are gone and the pubs have either disappered or change beyond recognition.


That's me done. Got posts well out past the end of my hols. Finally I can sleep.

A day in Nottingham

I warned you that I'd be boring you with more holiday tales. I've got a big backlog of this stuff. Mostly because I've been unusually busy of late. This weekend just gone there was the Kimchi Festival and the first anniversary of Butcher's Tears.

Bustling Balderton has much to offer, but after a day and a half we're in search of even more excitement, thrill-seekers that we are. Telling Lexie Chesters used to be called the Cock Inn amused him for a minute or two. He almost believed it really had been a gay bar. The choice was Newark or Nottingham. We've settled on the latter. I'm saving Newark for Tuesday. Monday is depressingly quiet in Newark. Not that a wet Tuesday is much fun, either.

Our journey starts with a bus into town. They still run a few during the day. All evening services were discontinued last weekend. There are now no buses after 6 PM. What on earth do people do if they need to travel at night? Drive or take a taxi, I guess. Another reminder of why I live in Amsterdam.

The new, miniature Newark bus station (most of the old one has been replaced by an Asda) is a walk from Castle station that's just long enough to be annoying. Lexie keeps complaining that me and Andrew are walking too fast. I've forgotten that he twisted it or something on the flight over. He's developing quite an impressive limp. If it's genuine. You can never be sure with kids.

Or adults for that matter. I practised limping for a couple of years. Invaluable experience for when I finally broke my ankles. And Dolores told me I was crazy. Who was laughing when I was in plaster?

We're quite early. Which gives Lexie plenty of time to moan about his foot before the train arrives. We've arranged to meet Henry on the train. He's catching it at Collingham, one stop before Newark. I'm surprised to see he has someone with him. A fellow teacher, it turns out. The phrase busman's holiday comes to mind. Were I a teacher, last thing I'd want to do in the summer holidays is hang around with teenagers. Even my charming offspring.

I promised the kids I'd take them to the Trip to Jerusalem. Or was that threatened? I can't remember. Hoped they'd like it, more like. Old, weird, carved out of rock and plenty of weapons to look at. Right down Lexie's street. Not that he'd want to walk down his street. His foot hasn't got any better during our sprint from the station. It's a natural reaction, accelerating the closer you get to a pub. That's what I've been telling Dolores for years. Must be true.

It starts to rain on the way. Guess we won't be sitting in the beer garden.

We settle down in one of the cave rooms until Lexie notices the wifi is rubbish. He goes off in search of decent bandwidth. Being carved out of rock doesn't seem to do wifi many favours. We eventually opt for the haunted snug, a part of the pub that's a conventional building. The haunted shit doesn't worry him. As long as he can get on Youtube. And Andrew's a cynical sceptic. He's no time for any supernatural bollocks.

I go for a Nottingham Extra Pale Ale. We're all drinking it. Well, us adults are. The kids (Andrew has four frustrating days left of being a kid) are on cola. The Extra Pale Ale lives up to its name, colour-wise. It's a Lager-like straw hue. Beautifully hopped, too, with what tastes like a stack of English hops. The first one barely touches the sides. So good I immediately get a second.

Despite having stuffed bacon sandwiches down their cakeholes just a few hours earlier, the kids are hungry. Honestly, they expect several meals a day, the greedy little bastards. They both order hamburgers. I think "What the hell." and order a pulled pork wrap.

What are pubs coming to? Pulled pork in a wrap? Shouldn't be selling anything fancier than a ham bap. And pickled eggs. I blame myself for encouraging them by buying such unnatural pub food. Why didn't I go for a traditional British hamburger?

After a third pint of Extra Pale Ale, we reluctantly leave the Trip. It really is a cracking pint. Henry suggests we try a new pub, the Crafty Crow, which just a little up the hill. Mmmm, that name is a bit worrying. The "C" word. I don't mention it to Lexie. I know exactly what his reponse to "C" word will be. We're in public. I don't want someone to say: "People like you don't deserve to have children." Again.

It's very modern looking inside. Much of the furniture is recycled pallets. Tres chic. At least there's a row of five handpumps on the bar. Even if only four of them bear clips. I get something from the trendier end of modern British brewing. It's not in great nick.

Lexie's foot is now causing him real problems. I rush off to the nearest chemist for painkillers. "Get paracetamol and codeine." Andrew suggests. I'm not going to argue with him. He's the one with the thick medical volumes. I bow to his superior expertise.

When I get back, Henry and his mate are regaling the kids with tales of the stupidity and laziness of the children they teach. It seems to amuse the boys. When they should be shocked and disappointed at the cynicism of the teaching profession. Maybe they'll realise that once they stop laughing.

As our beer isn't that great, we move on after one. To the Ned Ludd, another new pub.

"Do you know who Ned Ludd was, Andrew?"

"The bloke who smashed up machines. Though he didn't really exist." I've brought him up well.

It's reassuringly pub-like inside.

"This is reassuringly like a pub, Henry. Did it used to be one?"

"Can't remember. Might have."

He's a mine of useful information.

Less reassuringly, the bar is full of keg fonts, and the four handpumps are crowded into a small section in the middle. I order a Shipstone's Bitter from pure nostalgia. Aagh. They've served it in a dimpled mug. The world's least practical beer glass.

"I hate these glasses, Andrew. They're only useful if you want to club someone to death. That happened my first year at university."

"You have such lovely stories, Dad."

The Shippos is OK. Not sure how much it tastes like the original. We leave after one again.

Henry and his mate are getting hungry, not having eaten in the Trip. They suggest dropping by a trendy burger place. That also sells decent beer. Definitely not things that went together when I were a lad. (Or was that a lady? You forget so many things as you get older. I have always been a bloke, haven't I?)

Despite their earlier meal, the kids are keen, too. It's across the other side of the Market Square, in the Lace Market. The kids are distinctly less keen on the walk uphill. Despite it not being that much uphill. Slight incline, more than anything. Holland has spoilt them. Anything other than dead flat is a mountain in their eyes.

At Annie's Burger Shack - the name of the posh burger place - the hand pulls take pride of place on the bar. As they should do. With the evil keg pumps lurking on the sidelines where they belong. I have a pint of Dancing Duck Dark Drake, a Stout. It looks lovely: inky black with a firm tan collar of foam. It tastes pretty nice, too. And it comes in a proper glass.

It's quite different from most of the Stouts I've had lately. Which are either historical recreations or Amercian/American-influenced jobs with all the bathroom fittings, an old tin bath, the downstairs toilet and the tap in the garden thrown in as well as the kitchen sink, malt-wise. Ingredient guessing is a fools game. But I'll stick my neck out and say Dark Drake has no brown malt in it.

I see they're at the odd jam jar thing here. Next to every handpump, there's a little jam jar with a coloured liquid inside, presumably the beer issuing from that pump. I can't really see the point. I'm just about smart enough to work out that a Stout called Dark Drake isn't likely to be pale.

Handpulls apart, it's very similar in feel to the fancier end of American burger places: wooden floor, bare brick walls. The menu and service are similar to the US, too. Which is handy because it means I don't have to trail over to the bar when I need another pint. The kids both opt for bacon and cheese burgers. Henry and his mate go for a spicy variation. I have something called a James Blackmore. No idea why it's called that. It's a burger topped with pulled pork. I'm going a bit pulled pork crazy today.

The spicy burgers come with a scotch bonnet chili on a skewer. Henry doesn't want his so Andrew volunteers to eat it. They're dead impressed when he chomps the thing down whole. I really am starting to believe I've got most of this parenting stuff right.

Our final port of call is Pitcher & Piano. It's an excellent repurposing of a redundant church. Very attractive, with most of the original features, like stained glass windows, retained. The handpulls are centre stage again. My camera has gone all misty-eyed. Maybe it's trying to recreate the way I'm seeing the world. Can a camera count how many pints you drink? I wouldn't put it past modern technology.

The glasses are those dimpled monstrosities. Are these crap glasses getting trendy? Then they should save them for craft keg.

The castle is looking impressive in the sunlight as we walk back into Newark from the station. I annoy the kids by snapping away like crazy.

There's supposed to be a taxi rank (it's almost 7 PM so the last bus is long gone) opposite the Flying Circus. Not a taxi to be seen. I take the only reasonable option: go into the pub and have a pint. "We can ask the barman to call us a taxi." I say as means of excuse. I don't have a phone, so what else can I do?

It used to be called the Crown & Mitre. And before that, the Exchange Hotel. The current incarnation has a vague Monty Python theme and a garish colour scheme of red, yellow and grey-blue. Must have used a blind decorator, or at least a colour blind one. The bar has the combination of hand pulls and keg fonts I'm getting used to. Can you guess which served my pint?

I manage to get down a couple of pints before the kids complain enough for me to say:

"Call me a cab."*

Not bad going, really, as we've been out for 9.5 hours, most of it spent in pubs. Another sign of my excellent parenting skills, managing a full day of pub-crawling without serious whinging or physical injury requiring hospital treatment.

Interesting to note that the best beer was served in the most old-fashioned pub, the Trip. The second best was served in the least pub-like, Annies's Burger Shack. What does that tell us?





* I was deeply disappointed by the barman's reply of "Certainly, sir." A barman in a comedy-themed pub should surely have come up with better.




Ye Olde Trip To Jerusalem
Brewhouse Yard,
Nottingham,
NG1 6AD.
http://triptojerusalem.com


Crafty Crow
102 Friar Lane,
Nottingham,
NG1 6EB.
Tel: 01158371992
Email: @CraftyCrowNotts.co.uk
http://www.craftycrownotts.co.uk


The Ned Ludd
27 Friar Lane,
Nottingham,
NG1 6DA.
http://www.thenedludd.com/


Annie's Burger Shack
5 Broadway,
Lace Market,
Nottingham,
NG1 1PR.
bookingatannies@gmail.com
http://www.anniesburgershack.com/



Pitcher & Piano
The Unitarian Church,
High Pavement,
Nottingham,
NG1 1HN.
Tel: 0115 958 6081
nottingham@pitcherandpiano.com
http://www.pitcherandpiano.com/where-are-we/Nottingham



The Flying Circus
53 Castlegate,
Newark-on-Trent,
Nottinghamshire,
NG24 1BE
Tel: 01636 302 444
Email: info@flyingcircuspub.com
http://www.flyingcircuspub.com/

Offline in Newark

I've been offline for a few days while visiting my brother. His is one of the three remaining houses in Europe without an internet connection.

It was interesting to watch my kids cope. Of course, having smart phones, they weren't as offline as me. The three drillion TV channels my brother receives went some way to mitigate the lack of wifi.

"Why is Dutch television so crap?" Lexie asked me.

"Because the government hate us." Though really it's UPC's fault.

The net-free days taught me something: that I waste a lot of time pissing around on the web to no great purpose. Following idiotic forum discussions. And don't get me started on social media. Mostly just time-occupying bollocks. It was relaxing to read a newspaper and watch TV with the kids instead. And visit the odd pub, let's not forget that. Not much point in going to Britian if you're not going to down a few pints.

Now I only visit once a year, the changes to Newark are all that more obvious. Some are incomprehensible. Like the axing of all buses after 6 PM. Or the ten houses they're managing to cram onto the car park of the former Turks Head. Others pretty neutral: the arrival of a Pound Pub or the Crown and Mitre becoming the Flying Circus. Even ggo ones, like the Horse and Gears reopening as a Blue Monkey pub.

Best is that now both kids are over fifteen, I can take them into pretty much any pub during the day. Makes my life easier and means there are options other than Wetherspoons. Not that there's anything wrong with Wetherspoons. It's just nice to have more options.

An afternoon pub-crawling around Nottingham highlighted the change in the British beer scene. Or more accurately Britain's pub scene. BEcause it's there thingts have changed the most. The pubs we hit made this very obvious. But I'll be writing about that in more detail later. Here's something to ponder. The best beer I had the whole trip was served in the most old-fashioned pub.

Best of all, it was dead easy to avoid that craft keg shit and drink proper, low-carbonated, full-flavoured cask beer. And cask beer of all sorts. Despite what the more doctrinaire and destructive end of the crafterati might hope, cask beer is holding its own. Even in the modern, trendy sorts of places. Lots of handpulls and plenty of beer in decent nick.

Away from the pub there was lots to drink. Henry, a schoolfriend who plans on opening a brewery, brought me a crate of various homebrewed beers. Pretty well all from historic recipes of mine. Good stuff, though I couldn't manage to get through it all.

Anyway, I'll be boring the kecks off you for a few days with my holiday tales of little import. Then it'll be back to the numbers.

Home Brewed again

Ferreting around in the newspaper archive in search of Home Brewed, I came across some striking advertisements from the Nottingham Brewery.

They're odd in many ways - lots of white space, text in the form of a poem - but the language and tone are surprisingly modern in some respects. And mirror the kind of marketing used by some of the more cynical hip new breweries:

"MALTANOP—-up-to-date

THE ALE:
We never cease trying make this Ale more perfect
The rich, nut-brown Home Brewed
The briiliant, sparkling Bitter
Familiar to you as MALTANOP
Has about reached the limit of perfection
The very best Materials —The greatest care-yield
MALTANOP The last word in brewing skill.
Times out of number we have been asked to bottle
MALTANOP Home Brewed in Pints -
They are easier to handle than Quarts.
We have now done it.
They are ready to-day
MALTANOP H.B. in Pints 2/9 per dozen
Sold everywhere
Delivered immediately direct from here —Telephone 3324

THE LABEL:
We are discarding the old label
It was cumbersome —we have no use for the obsolete
We even improve our label
The old label bore witness that MALTANOP
remained bright and sparkling to the last drop
and could be drawn on from time to time
without becoming flat
Everybody knows that
We discard verbiage, we rely on your experience
The new label is exceedingly neat
It will please you
A label — not a narrative
MALTANOP Home Brewed is Red
MALTANOP Bitter is Green
No longer square, but oval
The change is in the label—NOT the ale
Our MALTANOP is better than ever

The Nottingham Brewery Ltd
Mansfield Road
Nottingham. 'Phone 3324"
Nottingham Evening Post - Saturday 21 March 1914, page 4.

This phrase "we have no use for the obsolete" sounds much like the line peddled by some of today's keg fans.

2s 9d for a dozen pints equates to 2.75d per bottle. On the eve of WW I, standard Mild cost 2d a pint, which means this Home Brewed was probably a similar strength, given the premium charged for bottled beer. Around 1050º or 5% ABV.

From the stuff about it being clear to the last drop it's obvious that these were artificially carbonated beers. The run up to WW I is when this type of beer was becoming popular and brewers were moving away from bottle conditioning for many styles of beer.

Here's a rather less wordy effort, though still giving Home Brewed a mention:

"MALTANOP

SOME ALE.

TRY IT
You will praise it -
not injudiciously
MALTANOP Rich Home Brewed.
Crisp Sparkling Bitter
Perfect for the table.
At the shops, or direct from us
Fresh and Brilliant
Usual prices

The Nottingham Brewery, Ltd
MANSFIELD ROAD,
NOTTINGHAM.
'Phone 3324."
Nottingham Evening Post - Monday 25 May 1914, page 4.

The Nottingham Brewery weren't the only ones to use the corny Maltanop name, as you can see from the label at the top of the page, which comes from a brewery in Grimsby. I've not been able to find a label for the Nottingham Brewery's version, unfortunately.

Unpalatable Nottingham beer

My memory isn't what it was. This proves it.

I'm always pleased when I find proof of dodgy goings on in pubs. If only because there are so many tales about adulteration and watering, but very little hard evidence. Like this.

When the name and address of the pub are included, I usually look it up on Google Maps. Which is exactly what I did with the Queen's Arms mentioned below. Read the article then I'll tell you why it's a sign that my memory is going.

"UNPALATABLE NOTTM. BEER
TWO CUSTOMS PROSECUTIONS
IMPROVING BEER THAT HAD "GONE HARD"
HOW A SPECIAL "MILD" IS MADE
DISCLOSURES AND CONVICTIONS AT CITY COURT

There were three defendants in two prosecutions brought by the Customs and Excise, heard at Nottingham Guildhall to-day.

Josiah Widdowson, of the Queen's Arms, Queens-road, Nottingham, was summoned for mixing sugar with beer, so as to increase the quantity of gravity, after an account had been taken by a Customs and Excise officer and duty had been charged.

The offence was admitted. Mr. E. R. Booth, prosecuting, said defendant was a licensed publican and brewer of beer.

Certain beer was brewed on March 16th, and an account was taken the following day.

On March 25th a local excise officer took a sample of beer from a cask on tap, which was found to contain added sugar to the extent of about 71b. to the barrel.

Mr. Booth stressed the seriousness of the offence.

No Intent To Defraud
Mr. F. Clayton said defendant had not acted with any intent to defraud. He had held licence in the city for 35 years, and for 10 years he had been the Queens Arms. Never had there been complaint Against him.

The beer in this particular barrel had "gone hard" and was not palatable. He gave instructions to the brewer to make it palatable by adding a certain quantity of the sugar.

Some 10 or 12 gallons of beer had been sold from the barrel and the gravity of the remainder was raised by the addition of sugar.

Mr. Clayton pointed out that the sugar wag not added to the brew. Defendant made a clear breast of the matter.

Mr. Booth said the original bulk was increased by four gallons.

Mr. Rheinlander, a witness for the Customs and Excise, said the increase of gravity was not sufficient to account for the whole of the 7lb. of sugar. Therefore the sugar must have been added in the form of solution, which case the bulk would be increased as well as the gravity.

The Bench imposed a fine of £5 and £5 5s. costs.


Bottoms And Overs
William Richardson, of the Phoenix Inn, Denman-street, Nottingham, was summoned for a similar offence, and his son. William Arthur Richardson, of the same address, was summoned for aiding and abetting.

Mr. Booth said that 4.1lb. of fermentable sugar had been added to a barrel of 36 gallons, and he submitted that it was added after the account had been taken for duty, though younger defendant said "the only sugar added was that in the copper."

Evidence was given by Robert Charles Moore, officer of Customs and Excise, and Dr. J. W. G. Maclennan, chemist in the Government laboratory, said there was no doubt that the sugar was added. No mixing with a higher gravity beer would explain the presence of the sugar.

Wm. Arthur Richardson, replying to Mr. R. A. Young, who defended both men (they pleaded "Not guilty"), said that bottoms and overs of strong and mild beer were put together in one barrel, refined again, and sold as mild ale at 5d. a pint. It was from this that the sample was taken. Duty had already been paid on it.


A Doubt In The Case?
"I did not add anything to the beer except finings, no sugar whatever had been added except that in the original brewing," said defendant.

He made no attempt to increase the gravity or quality, or to make any profit on the duty that should be paid to the Inland Revenue.

Mr. Young said it was particularly unfortunate that those proceedings had come along. The elder defendant had been advised on medical grounds to leave the licensing business, and it was his intention to apply for the transfer of the licence his son in a fortnight's time.

Mr. Young contended that there was doubt in the case, which should be given favour of the defendants.

The Bench imposed a fine of £5 on each defendant, and £2 12s. 6d. costs each."
Nottingham Evening Post - Wednesday 08 July 1936, page 7.

Why's my mind going? I used to drink in the Queens. Quite often. It's right next to Nottingham railway station and was a handy starting/ending point when I visited Nottingham by train. It used to be quite a nice Shipstone's pub. Then Greenhalls took over Shipstone's and it was allowed to fall into decline and eventually closed. It looks rather sad today.

The landlord was a licensed brewer,  which makes it tempting to assume that the Queens was a homebrew pub. But it's possible that the brewery was elsewhere. The article does not make cleaar where the brewing took place.

Bottoms and overs - I wonder what they were exactly? Bottoms I would guess were the dregs left at the bottom of a barrel. But what about overs? Is that a posh word for slops? By "refined" I'm pretty sure they mean "adding finings again" rather than some distillation process. I can guess why they claimed Strong Ale had been mixed with Mild Ale: to explain the too high gravity of the Mild they were selling.

The story used to go around that all the slops were put back into the Mild barrel. The second case seems to imply that is assertion was true. The landlord was happy to admit mixing odds and ends of different beers and selling them as Mild.

"Hard" usually means sour in this context. It's easy to understand how sugar could be used to mask sourness. But, as it also added extra (untaxed) fermentable material, it was very much against the law.