I was delighted to discover, earlier, that the Co-op has started stocking Bateman's XXXB - the jewel in the crown of Lincolnshire beers. It was XXXB that was on tap, free, the night that BGS jazz band (including yours truly on piano) blew out all the electrics at Mr. George Bateman's 75th birthday party in 1993. We did about three grands worth of damage, but Mr. George didn't bat an eyelid - he just laughed, got his flunkeys to bring a load of candles, and asked us if we'd be happy playing a couple of acoustic sets.

We used to serve XXXB at the Burton. Owing to an administrative foolishness at Whitbread - one of many - the stuff was transported from Bateman's Wainfleet brewery to the regional distribution centre at Sheffield and then to us. This was foolish because the brewery was about five miles down the road from the pub. Every Tuesday Frank and I would watch the dray lorry sail past, carrying our beer on its 150-mile round trip. Batemans is perfect but it doesn't travel well, so by the time it got back to us it tasted like wee.

Today's entry, by the way, is dedicated to the memory of Robert Wise. When you're a Jet you're a Jet all the way, from your first cigarette till your last dying day....