Comedy spirits, Part 1; Unicum.

 In the Bag Of Nails, we have accumulated a number of strange and obscure spirits, which can only legitimately be described as 'Whut I found on my holidays.' These include such useless bottles such as Metaxa, Galliano, four types of orange liqueur and something unknown called Kibowi ,which has a picture of a kiwi fruit on the label. 

        

 A few days ago we acquired a bottle of the rather unfortunately named Unicum. Wiki describes it as a 'Unicum is a Hungarian herbal bitters, drunk as a digestif and apéritif.' I would describe it as a potential torture method yielding results similar to waterboarding or forced Simply Red listening. Jamie is the manager of the excellent Hillgrove Porter Stores. Last night was his first visit to the pub since he saw me sat in darkness, amongst the detritus left by the previous landlord and council, brassoing a metal drip tray. He was suitably impressed with my decoration, which I appreciated, and so I treated him to a free taste of our newest spirit. Here are the pictorial results.

The excellent Dom who also works in the Hillgrove was with him. He was pretty drunk already, and so we gave him a slightly larger glass. Unlike Jamie who had warning of just how foul the drink was, Dom had no warning, and downed the whole shot in one. Because of his drunkenness, there was a delayed reaction. No expression on his face for five seconds or so, then slow realisation of the nasty bitterness that had just irreversibly tainted his mouth. The subsequent look that he gave me was identical to the one given by a dog who loved you, after you had just punched him on the nose for no reason.

Poor Dom. I'm almost sorry.

Modifying Pump Clips.

Pump Clips are just the (usually) plastic badges that the breweries supply to pubs, to advertise what Cask Ales are for sale. In a Freehouse like mine which has regularly changing ales, the breweries just supply the plastic ones, to keep costs down, but where an ale is a permanent feature, many breweries supply quality ceramic, enamel or sometimes clay pump clips.

I already have a large bag full of used pump clips, as we have sold well over fifty different ales in the two months that we have been open. I'm pretty sure that the buggers multiply in there. There are definitely some clips in there for beers that we have never had in the cellar.

Anyhow, sometimes we have to modify the pump clips that we are given. Sometimes this is because a brewery has made a cock up and forgotten to supply us with the correct clips, sometimes it is us that make the cock up, or sometimes the production of the clips gets delayed by whoever makes them, as is the case with the Arbor Ales clip. Marynka (no I can't pronounce it either), is the latest of Jon's successful and acclaimed Single Hop series; each named after the hop that was used. And very nice it is too. (We had a young couple come in the other day, proclaiming that they only ever drank lager. One free sample later, and the both of them are happily drinking ale for the very first time.)

The modified Bath Ales clip is a different matter altogether. I'll probably get intro trouble for this, but hey, who wants a boring life. For the last twelve or so years, Bath Ales have been producing a highly drinkable beer called Barnstormer. This was named after a bloke called Stuart Barnes who apparently played rugby for some teams. (Huge bloke. I met him once. Roger told me to look after him. I have never seen anybody in less want of needing to be looked after.) However, some large, faceless drinks company headed by a man who was obviously bullied as a child also makes a drink called Barnstormer. Unlike it's namesake, this Barnstormer calls itself a cider, but you and I wouldn't call it such. We would all call it a shit, sickly concoction that only tramps and student drink. But as is the way with these evil companies, they apparently decided to trademark the name for themselves and then told Bath Ales that they had to change the name of their beer. So when, last week, I ordered a few barrels of the old favourite, they turned up with the new pump clip, titled Barnsey. I'm not having that, so one evening after a few (many) pints, I decided to change the badge back to it's old name.
Although it could have been executed far better, I like to think that I have added a unique sense of style to the pump clip. :)

To run a pub to maximum efficiency you must be thoroughly organised.

This is my attempt to be organised, and to show to my staff that I am fully prepared and equipped to deal with all of the issues that might arise.

These are just the two brushes that we use to clean the glass washer machine before every shift. (I love Wilco's. Budget toothbrush for five pence.) But of course for anybody to see the real picture, they just have to take a quick glance into the office upstairs, to see this.

This is the usual state of affairs in the office, and indeed in my own head. Occasionally Hayley will do a big tidy, (and even more occasionally I shall myself,) but experience shows that this is what my office usually looks like. Personally I'm blaming the kitten. 

(And yes, I did forget to take the bottle bin out last night again, so we have to store them in the cellar for another week.)

Before and After.

Now that we have been open for a month or so, I should really attempt to show people some of the difference between how I found the building, and what we have done to it. I did methodically take a series of photo's from specific points, when I first took the keys, in October, so that I could highlight the difference with exact before and after pics. But, of course I'm highly disorganised with a memory like a goldfish, and I must have forgotten where I was stood. In due course I shall post many more of the before and after pics, if I can, but for the moment I shall just post these two pics up.

 Pretty much everything has changed. We took all of those sad looking pump clips off the walls, (more about that later. Much more.), changed the weird seat in the alcove into the place where the record deck now lives, and lit it properly. Threw that horrible fake Bristol Heritage Pubs poster away, that you can see on the far wall. Obviously we have painted the walls of the pub what I like to call 'Light Terracotta', but as you can see, is actually pink. And we hung some sexy wallpaper, which has gone down considerably better than I thought it would. The photo in the oval frame is something that I picked up for a song, from a Clifton antique shop, called 'Focus On The Past', as is looking up Bristol High Street, somewhere near the turn of the century. Mr Hitler put paid to all the buildings on te right, sometime in 1940, but most of the rest is still around. I painted the pillar with magnetic blackboard paint, and this is where the now famous Rules of My Pub reside. 

Back into the swing of things.

Firstly, please let me apologise to the people who have been following this Blog, for not updating or writing anything for the last month or two. This shall change, and hopefully I shall be posting a few times a week to catch up on all the things that have happened over the last few months. Life began to get hectic in late October, building up to a crescendo of activity and stress in November as we approached opening day, followed by much hard work, and activity and energy through December as I tried to keep a really disorganised pub afloat in it's first working month, for the busiest month of the year. 

I must say thank you to all the friends and customers who have supported me and the pub, and come through the door to help make the place work. Without you it would have been a massive balls up.

Right then. So the most important news that has happened since we opened is a little fluffy thing called Malcolm. A month or so ago, Hayley asked me if I wanted a nine week old kitten for the pub as she was unable to keep him. It took me almost a second to say, yes, yes, YES !!! Since then Malcolm has become very much the most popular and favourite living thing to set foot in the bar. Along with all kittens, Malcolm has three modes which he can switch between in less time then it takes him to jump on your thighs and draw blood. These are Sleep Mode, Attack Mode and Affection Mode. He is at his most sweet in sleep mode, and you may see him curled up in his box next to the radiator, near the record deck, and in his most cutest pose will arch his back nearly 180 degrees backwards, showing off his exquisite clouded tabby belly. Do not be deceived by this apparent slumber. He can switch from this to Attack Mode quicker then you can remove your fingers from his belly, and many people have been so far caught out by the switch.

Anyhow, this is one of the first photo's that we have of the little monster, from mid December ish. He has grown quite a bit since then, but his cuteness has not diminished at all yet. 

 Now that I am back into the swing of things properly, I shall ensure that I update this blog properly and regularly from now. Cheers.

Aaaaargggghhhhh !!

I'm not usually one to start yawning on about what dreams I had last night and what their significance or lack of, means. But when you wake in the middle of the night as I have just done, and you can remember lucidly most of your night's dreams and in all of them you end up starting an argument or fight in them, even to the point of shouting at children that you don't even know, then you know that you must be pretty stressed.
The difference between my life three months ago and now is striking and can e highlighted in the respective times that I took/take coffee down at the excellent, Do Lii Coffee. A few months ago Dominic or Claudia might see me roll in, bleary eyed at no earlier than One O' Clock for my morning coffee, and sometime it could be as late as half past three. These days, I can sometimes be waiting for him to open his doors at half seven.

Anyhow, the pub. What's going on ? Well apart from myself transforming from a sedentary sloth into a hyped stresshead once more, great progress has been made with the Bag of Nails, and problems have been solved, bypassed or mostly wallpapered over.

I wrote the above a few days ago and was rudely interrupted from my rambling by a call from some supplier or other telling me that they were outside my pub waiting for me and if I wouldn't mind could I get my ass down there ASAP so that he can continue with his daily work. Since then I have spent a total of one hour at my home, which mostly consists of rushing to put some soap on my face, and then digging deep into my many piles of junk to unearth some crucial piece of the jigsaw puzzle that make up my pub. I cannot write much more now as today is the big day, and my friend John and I have a full day of running around the city, tearing our hair out at the latest crisis. At five o clock today, we find out if we have a working pub or not. Wish me luck.

Finally ....

We have the keys to the pub. It's been so long. We took them last Friday and have been in the building since then. I would say that I have hit the ground running, and we have accomplished a huge amount so far, but this would be far from the truth. I'm going to get up to speed a little bit more slowly than I did at the Nubes, because I managed to utterly knacker myself out over the course of a year.
To be fair, at the Nubes, I didn't actually ever know how long I was supposed to or going to be running the place. I was only actually brought in for one day to hold the keys until the new manageress turned up the next day, and she never turned up at all. I was running it on a daily basis for a month before Mike decided that I was the best man for the job. And even then we were constantly expecting the company to go bust on any given day, (which it did a month or two after I left the company.) I like to think that I was the only thing holding Hidden afloat and certainly the Nubes was hemorrhaging money when I arrived, and when I left it was the only profit making part of the company left.
Anyhow, we finally have the keys, and I'm really excited. The place is in quite a state, in so many different ways. The council or the old owners ripped all of the carpets out, and so the  bare floorboards are covered in twenty years of dirt and dust, mingled with a smattering of rubble and other roof fixing things.
The first executive decision was to buy a Henry hoover from my nice local electricians, Able Electrics on Gloucester road, which was cheaper than any of the major suppliers would have been. The next executive decision was to cover the Henry with Sonic the Hedgehog stickers, just to make him feel loved. Don't worry, we didn't cover over his eyes at all. He needs to be able to negotiate those flights of steps after all.
Since Friday, I have been generally seen around pubs and bars with a tape measure in my hand, taking measurements and thinking deep into my pint. A lot of decisions need to be made, and most pressingly is what to do with the back of the bar. The Bag of Nails was never really built as a proper pub, and so the facilities are, lets just say they are certainly lacking an amount of functionality. To be honest, behind the bar is actually just shit all around, and I am tempted to just rip it all out and start again. I am generally against people doing this kind of thing, because they are just ripping out something lovely only to put their stamp on a palce, and once they inevitably fail, then the next owners are just left with some kind modern rubbish that doesn't fit the venue. But the Bag was never actually put together properly in the first place, so it makes it difficult to build onto it in a decent fashion. The back bar is just thin hardboard painted matt black, and you couldn't affix any proper shelves or mirrors onto it. So I am in a bit of a quandary between wanting to keep the character of the pub, and wanting a bar that has been built properly in the first place.