In Praise of Wednesdays

I have noted previously on these pages that an unintended byproduct of abstaining from alcohol on Mondays and Tuesdays is that Wednesdays are – what’s the phrase, again? – fucking brilliant

At around 3.55pm on these hallowed days my mind tells me that whatever it is I am doing at the computer could just as easily be done on a laptop in the glorious pub garden at the end of my road. Although, to be fair, this is not always the case.

Last week, for example, I sauntered down there to complete my final task of the day: sorting out iCloud storage so I don’t have to give anybody any more money. Hideous. I ordered a pint of Nethergate’s Hop Weaver and carried it to my usual table – number 267, site of some of the finest emails I’ve ever written. I took a long draught, breathed in the fresh autumnal air and watched the wind playing in the trees. And a funny thing happened. I no longer gave the faintest toss about my iCloud storage. Let it fill up, I thought. Let it burst, for all I care, and splatter my data all over the grid. I’m having a Wednesday. 

Fallen soldier

Anyway, I’m delighted to report that the world seems to be catching on with the idea of making Wednesdays great again.

I was at the same pub (the Fox on the Hill, a Wetherspoon pub) a little while ago when I spotted Thornbridge’s Jaipur was available, a firm favourite and probably the only beer I can send a pump clip picture of to my wife and she’ll know not to expect me back any time soon. Such is its legend.

“I have to tell you that the Jaipur is priced at £3.25 and not the usual £3.01,” said the barmaid, gently, when I ordered a pint. 

“Thank you,” I said, appreciating her concern. “That’ll be fine.”

She poured the pint and set it down in front of me, its foamy head releasing immediately the familiar bouquet of lemon and gooseberry.

“That’ll be £2.25, please.”

“I thought you said it was £3.25.”

“Oh, not on Ale Wednesday,” she said. 

Ale Wednesday? Holy shit. Or indeed, Holy Wednesday. In Christianity, Holy Wednesday commemorates the Bargain of Judas. In Spoons it represents the Bargain of Jaipur. £2.25 a pint? I sent a pic of the pump clip to my wife.

Next on these Wednesday jaunts I might walk down into Herne Hill for a change of scene. Previously I might have taken a seat outside The Commercial opposite the railway station and watched commuters coming home for work, the poor bastards – though I appreciate they have actually been earning some money, whereas I have just been sitting on my arse, spending it. But nevertheless, poor bastards.  

These days I’m more likely to be found in Bird House, the brewery and tap room on the site of the old Canopy brewery and tap. Bird House has expanded into neighbouring arches and opened up an alleyway directly into the heart of Herne Hill – in my view, the greatest thing to happen to Herne Hill since the aforementioned station (built 1862).

Back on the emails

Here, I am delighted to report, pints are £4 all day on Wednesdays, and I can spend another happy hour with the laptop, not working. Often, Shirker’s Rest colleague Ben McNamee will join me after work and it is in fact here that we devised our brilliant and completely original idea for “Cask Wednesdays” at the pub: cask beer £4 a pint, all day. We don’t ask where these brilliant ideas come from, we just give thanks that we’re able to have them. 

Wednesdays looking Rosie

I’m glad that we at the Shirker’s are able to play our small part in reclaiming Wednesdays from the week’s scrapheap. Mondays remain shit, of course. Tuesdays are wankers. But Wednesdays, you wet-led wonders.

The other byproduct of drinking a bit less is productivity. Who’d have thought? And so it is that we – I and my Deserter colleague, Dirty South – have a new book out this autumn. Ten stories that ruminate on life, love, loss and laziness – and pubs, to be fair. After all, life wouldn’t be the same without pubs, or the life-affirming fluids they dispense.

As we say at Deserter: all things in moderation. Including moderation.

Deserter Stories is available to order now.

Image credit: Back on the emails by Meg Robinson

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