Just when it was believed that cask had been killed completely by the Great Heatwave (and Peroni), I bring further evidence that cask lives !
And again it’s Bass that provides the proof. Who’d a thought it ? Not R. Coldwell Esq.
But first, how did I get here ? As the song goes.
On the 195 from Hanwell, of course.
I’m sure Brentford is worthy of a more scholarly insight than I gave it waiting outside the County Court in the drizzle.
Particularly as this is the place where some bloke bravely opposed Caesar on his way to impose Moretti on the cask-loving St Albans, it says here.
Apart from that it’s only known for the riverside walks and the four pubs at each corner of the football ground. Which they’re leaving soon.
But they’re moving just round the corner from the Express, possibly the best Bass next to a football ground in England. Discuss.
Which I suspect will be a bit of a mixed blessing when the Hull Tigers tip up next season, assuming the new ground is finished before the new White Hart Lane. A fair bet.
The Express is best seen from across the road, and at night, when the illuminated Bass triangle can be seen in all its glory.
Not that it just sells Bass these days. I blame this choice nonsense on the Dolphin.
BUT. The Express is thriving at 2pm on a Wednesday, and I count half a dozen Bass glasses, which is what I want to see.
And it’s close to nectar, cool, rich and complex (NBSS 3.5+). In fact, if the group of CAMRA ramblers opposite hadn’t all been on the Harvey’s I suspect it would have reached Tynemouth standards (too foamy to match the Star).
Still, my lacings whacked the Sussex into the Thames.
Better Bass than on my visit a decade ago, and a cosier boozer than I remembered, with a good mix of trade and some proper pub grub.
The sort of place you could lose an afternoon, in fact. But I had work to do.