An old drawing, mocked-up as a label for a ‘craft beer’ that you’ll never see on sale anywhere. I drew it in 2003, after I’d moved south where the ale is, I’m sorry to say, nowhere near as good as it is up north. My favourite hostelry throughout the 90’s was the Duck & Drake in Leeds, which was – as of February this year – still going strong. I’d last been in there in the early 00’s, and nothing had changed. The same battered wooden furniture, the same fireplace, the same clientele. It was reassuring to see that in a world of relentless change and alleged “progress”, some things are resolute. I approached the bar like a road-weary Medieval supplicant, ready to kneel in awe before the majesty of the lord, and ordered a pint of Old Peculier. One sip and suddenly all was right with the world. I almost wept with relief. So pleasing and uplifting was the experience that I could have easily strapped in for a long liquid afternoon, but I restrained myself to one delicious pint, and left wanting more. Next time I’m back up north, I’ll be in there.