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| The Craft Crow, Nottingham |
The deep sonorous tones of the church bells speak like an authoritative headmaster from the age of pain, announcing the onset of 11 o’clock in the morning, a regular, furrowed brow airburst of sound, eleven times the angel Michael with sword in hand, announcing that somewhere in this town a pub is opening for early doors. Which is how I find myself in the Crafty Crow in Nottingham, Magpie Brewery’s tap, a shining city on a hill glass of their bracing Best in front of me, figurative in the shapes the barley and the English hops make on my palate, the kind of beer that shapes the day ahead of me.
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| A pint of Best, the world tilts on its axis |
