Hello, my name if Brother Barleymalt. When I first entered the monastery, I was called Brother Feather as I was assigned the task of caring for the monastery’s racing pigeons. The other monks are all mad keen punters (I have honestly seen a group wagering on raindrops running down a window) and our monastery competes in pigeon racing at every opportunity. I don’t really hold with gambling, and I have serious reservations that it doesn’t set a good example for the congregation. I also find it troubling that money from the collection plate is used to place wagers and new, presumably faster, pigeons are constantly being bought with some of the winnings. I must admit, my fellow Brothers seem to have a great aptitude for studying the racing form of the birds and estimating the odds offered by the bookmakers.

Anyway, ethical questions aside my vocation within the monastery as bird keeper was rather short-lived as it appears that I am allergic to birds. So goodbye Brother Feather and hello Brother Bellringer. Sadly, it was discovered that I suffer a terrible fear of heights (even going up the stairs to the first-floor results in shocking vertigo) so my career as a campanologist was quickly curtailed.

I was, in turn, Brother Honey (also allergic to bee stings), Brother Fish (the most dreadful seasickness), Brother Broom (oh how my sneezing disturbed the quietude of the monastery).

Finally, I became Brother Barleymalt and it seems that I have a real affinity for making beer (and no allergies). I can tell you that my fellow Brothers love to have a beer or 2 or more, usually after evening prayers, and after morning prayers and of course, while watching international pigeon racing on the telly. In fact, they seem to find lots of reasons to enjoy my beer and so I hold a very important position in the monastical hierarchy.
I have created several new beers, of which I am especially proud, that are proving to go down very well with the monks. I especially like my dark beer (Brother Tiddlywinks says that it’s as dark as the heart of Mother Superior Rumper at the nunnery next door). It has the subtle flavours of chocolate and coffee with just a whiff of cinnamon. Ah, sublime! But I suspect its popularity has more to do with its 9.7 percent alcohol level than any finer beer appreciation by my fellow Brothers. I have to limit my production of it as the Brothers can get a bit wild and crazy it they over imbibe (which they always seem to do). I still can’t get the vision out of my head of Brother Chickenwings dancing on the table wearing nothing but an uncooked chicken on his head. Dear oh dear! That chicken was for out dinner that night.

Well, I will have to go now as I can hear someone at my door. It will be Brother Stinkycheese come to collaborate on a beer to complement his outstanding Stilton.

The life of a monk is ever busy!