British beer mat

Last weekend my good lady and myself decided to go out for a spot of liquid refreshment. Our choice of venue was not our usual local but the newly refurbished back bar of the Salisbury Arms Hotel in the middle of town. The new decor is exceptionally pleasing to the eye as is the general ambience of the place which one might expect of an establishment that has been there in one form or another since the fifteenth century, maybe earlier.

I brought over my wife’s glass of chilled Australian Chardonnay and my pint of locally brewed bitter. You expect to get a full pint these days and not a couple of inches of froth which some newly formed Pubco’s insist is an integral part of the beer. Once settled the froth disappears leaving you a couple of pence short of a full pint. Not so today. A full pint; but the excess froth spilled over the rim of the glass and on to the freshly polished wooden table.

There’s nothing else one can do but return to the bar for a large towel, wipe the table and stand the pint in the towel to clear any excess.

Whatever happened to the British beer mat?

Sometime in the 1980’s the bureaucrats in Europe deemed beer mats unhealthy and positively unhygienic in a very typically un-British sort of way. They were banned in favour of drip trays and towels on the bar but nothing at all on the tables set for drinking. It is not quite the same; the glass does not always stand still on the table. Any spillages however small continue to make little pools on the surface on which to sail crisp boats; or explain the new off side rule.

Beer mats did not just exist to mop up light excesses of beer from the undersides of glasses or to steady a pint in the middle of an accidental spillage. They had other practical uses as well. Folded into squares they balanced lop sided tables, thus preventing more spillage. They were instant note pads on which to exchange phone numbers with young ladies you had just met. Once completely sodden with stale beer you could peel off the paper pattern from the cardboard base whilst your mate was at the bar buying another round.

Beer mats were often colourful with attractive designs and each brewery was properly proud of its art work. So much so that beer mats were very collectable. Students decorated ceilings with them, or even whole walls and real aficionados joined clubs to swap doubles and gain rare issues. Beer mat collectors are called tegestologists. A little like stamp collecting but with the added premium of having to consume at least a modicum of alcohol to be able to enjoy the hobby properly.

The unhygienic beer glass

In a typical working class environment old men had their own glass or more likely insisted on keeping and drinking from the first glass they got with their first pint. The glass lasted all evening. They did not want a freshly washed and polished glass from the newly installed glass washing machine.

These days you surrender your empty pint glass at the bar and are given a new one. It’s the law says the bar man, or woman. Its Health and Hygiene they say. You are not allowed to place a dirty glass – by which they mean the one that you have been drinking out of – against the tap of the beer pump in case you have some ghastly transmittable disease that you will pass on to every other person who drinks that particular beer.

On Sunday lunchtimes in years gone by many thoughtful and traditional landlords would place plates of nuts, cheese squares speared with pineapple cubes or shell fish or other attractive nibbles on the bar for his regulars to enjoy as an appetiser before returning home for the Sunday roast.

It was not until it was pointed out that the fingers that were now fishing around in the aforementioned delicacies had all at one time visited the toilets, that these little treats are no longer freely available on the bar. So Health and Safety will always win in the end.

To contact John Barber: moc.r1524516839ebrab1524516839nhoj@1524516839tcatn1524516839oc1524516839