'For some extraordinary reason, the men won't drink this - but you might like it.' Holding out a jug of cloudy bitter, still sludgy with hops, our employer stood framed indignantly in the doorway that separated her kitchen from the servants' quarters. The 'men' were the other ranks among the annual tranche of recruits preparing to serve her husband in the British Antarctic Survey: they were expected to drink beer in the hall, while the officer class took cocktails in the drawing-room. The men preferred beer, we were told, and, given the choice, they might well have chosen 'cloudy', the connoisseur's drop, before the filtered blandness of the more expensive 'bright' ale; a cask of cloudy bitter, though, needed to rest for 24 hours before it was broached - something her ladyship could hardly be expected to understand. But if the muddy brown liquid that hiccuped from the spigot would not serve the recalcitrant denizens of the hall, it might do for the help.

LRB 22 October 2009 | PDF Download