Long story short, we were on holiday last week in the Peak District with my mum, she broke her hand and I had to drive her back to Armpit. She’s in a cast and I’m stuck here for a fortnight opening jars and ferrying her around.
On the upside, she lives 0.31 miles from the sea. Back in March she joined the self-styled local Mermaids, and took to swimming in the grey North Sea. Here’s what it looks like on a good day in the middle of summer:
Not to be outdone, I took a couple of dips in a pleasant inland lake in Berkshire on the hottest days of the year. It was 26 degrees in the water and there are buoys to mark the course. You really can’t get lost in a lake.
When mum arrived in Derbyshire last week, we had a semi-spontaneous swim in the River Derwent just below Chatsworth, which was rather lovely. It reminded me of the river of chocolate in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, so dark and slow that we couldn’t make out which way the water was flowing. We were in the middle of a heatwave and the chocolate river left us refreshed for the rest of the day.
And now here we are in Armpit, a forgotten seaside resort that does not participate in national heatwaves. Mum can’t swim because she’s got a cast up to her elbow, but that doesn’t stop her egging me on. She took me down to look at the sea on our first day back here, and I shivered on the beach while her swimming group showered her with condolences and kindness. The sea did not look inviting, but the enthusiasm of the Mermaids really did.
Day two, this time I’m wearing swimming gear and I’ve got my float (you always need a float in the sea). The waves are up to 2 feet, but 6 seconds apart, and this is judged acceptable (there is a clever app for surfers – if it says it’s good for surfing then it’s too rough to swim). Nervously, I walk down to the sea with one of mum’s buddies, thinking I might go up to my knees. This is my rear view:
And it turns out to be bloody brilliant. A cold shock as the water hits your warm bits, and then the body quickly adjusts. The tide was in so it was a swimmable depth, a little bouncy but not unpleasant. The Mermaids bobbed around, gossipping between occasional bursts of crawl, and a small group hung back to support a nervous newbie. I swam out beyond the breakers and looked back at Armpit from a new perspective.
The next day the sea was flat and the tide was out so it’s a long walk before it gets above your waist. It was still no inland pond in Berkshire, and all the better for it.
The next day, after a night of heavy rain, there was sewage in the sea so no swim; also I had to take mum to have an op on her hand, pins and stuff inserted.
Yesterday evening we Mermaids gathered on the beach, despite the app saying it was a good day to surf. Waves over 2 feet and 2-3 seconds apart, and two beginners who felt they would probably only paddle. But we know we won’t get in again for nearly a week, according to the app, so we brave it anyway. The breakers knock us down as we edge our way crab-like into the sea. Near the shore, they slam into your chest, knock you down on the sand. Further out they smack you in the face and try to pull you down. If we were more nimble, we could ride them into shore. Beyond the breakers, we swim up the rising waves like brave little boats being tossed around the ocean, screeching and spitting out saltwater, laughing until our jaws ache, until we are dumped back on the beach and start to feel the cold.
There is absolutely nothing like a swim in the North Sea.
This beer is fairly pale and clear with a good lingering head. The smell is a bit pineapple (“totally pineapple” – Karen) with a bit of something else sour in there. Maybe rosehip? The flavour is tonguesmashingly sour and acidic. If that’s your sort of thing then I’m very happy for you.
This one has a pale straw colour and is slightly cloudy, with a compact but generally pleasing head. I couldn’t really detect anything of interest in the smell – it’s perhaps one of the most neutral-smelling beers I’ve ever known, though I had just come in from a game of tennis, so it’s possible that my scent receptors were currently asleep after a barrage of sweaty people and those pungent rubbery grips that you get on tennis racquets. Karen took a sip, as she so often does, and remarked that “it tastes like something’s died on your tongue.” Seemed a bit harsh to me. I thought that it wasn’t so bad, it’s fairly hoppy and refreshing. There’s a flavour of some obsure fruit in there that I wasn’t able to identify. I consulted the tasting notes and it says tropical fruits, mango, grapefruit. Yeah, might have been one of those.
I had a particular interest in this beer because I really want to like Adnams Ghost Ship Alcohol Free, but failed to find myself being thrilled by it, so hoped that this one might deliver. It’s got a lovely deep ruby colour, and is clear with a hint of head. The aroma is also very inviting, with maltiness and a nice warm berry aspect too. The flavour has some promising proportions, but is let down by being a bit watery and metallic. I gave it to Karen to sample and she very nearly made “the face” but not quite. She said “interesting aftertaste. Floral.” To my surprise, she then went back in for another sip, and this time left me with “malty”. I really did think that this beer would make her pull “the face” but I think she’s starting to get accustomed to beer. Maybe she’ll never pull “the face” again.
As I was pouring this beer, that deep cloudy orange colour and thick creamy head, coupled with the hearty biscuity fruity aroma took me right back to one of my favourites, 
This beer is quite pale, and as you can see from the photo, very thin and fizzy. It’s a kombucha beer, like the 
The name of this beer has got me thinking about some of the language that we often use when describing alcohol-free alternatives to conventionally alcoholic drinks. I haven’t quite built up my precise thoughts on that yet, but I can’t help feeling like someone somewhere’s trying to insult me. Good luck with that, pal, by now I’m an expert in the art of taking insults.
What does it look like? A medium golden colour with a thick pillowy head. What does it smell like? Sweet and floral and highly fragrant. How does it taste? An exotic flavour with a serious and hearty maltiness with a hint of citrus. Karen took a turn at this one: “hmmm, if I gave it time, I think I could get used to that.” Bernard also swept in, as he increasingly does with my alcohol-free beers these days: “I like it.” Yep, I’m happy for this one to join the pantheon of alcohol-free lagers that I come back to again and again.
The website claims “handcrafted in the English Lake District” but the brewery is actually in Kendal, so if you’ll permit me a little pedantry, the claim is actually fallacious. Karen and I were struggling to book a table for a Sunday evening in Grasmere, and ended up in a slightly shabby (and not in a cute way) bistro. When we walked in the door, everyone was staring at the wall-mounted television above our heads, blaring out the football. Oh shit, it’s a sports bar, we thought. Leaving seemed like a risky proposition, as there were so few other options. The menu didn’t look too good either – the food options were things like chicken tikka massala, and the only alcohol-free beer was (pinches nose) Becks Blue. But things took a turn for the better when I investigated the bottles of locally-brewed beer on the counter, and one turned out to be an alcohol-free one! We also discovered today’s special was cumberland sausage and mash, which made us a little happier (though the mash turned out to be something that has passed through many stages of life since it was last a potato).
This one poured with a crazy head. I initially only managed to get the glass about 1/4 full, and took a photo for laughs, with the intention of taking another one for the blog post. Unfortunately it looks like the second didn’t get saved, so the first one is what you get.
This is a dark and malty beer, reminiscent of some of the malty lagers I’ve had like the San Miguel and the Brooklyn Special Effects. It was perfectly drinkable, but felt a little lacking in presence, as if there might be a great beer in there but it had been watered down by 50%. Karen’s thoughts: “it has a tartness; a little tang.”
This has a pale to medium golden colour, and smells like a robust lightly-malted German pilsner should. It’s slightly fizzier in the mouth than anticipated, and the flavour has a little biscuitiness to it, but on the whole it delivers what it promises. Karen says “that’s quite beery, isn’t it?” Do you think she might be losing interest in this whole beer-reviewing malarkey already?
