Owner Neale Brickwood had been delayed on issue in France and we hadn't expected to think over him on this trip. A short turnaround and now the compass has swung back south. From the hut of the baby fishing boat, Spitbank Fort's indistinct outline cuts the pewter horizon. Over the boom of the engine, Brickwood explains that he bought the fort three year ago with two partners and they've been breaking even management it as a museum and venue for public events.
"We're doing alright, this year's bookings are winning of aftermost year's but you can always do better." He hopes his newest idea, to forge a microbrewery at the fort, in the medial of the English Channel, will balm them through the inclement waters of the course recession. The flat speedboat slows and bumps gently against the pier. Solid as a Second World War bunker, but with fancy Victorian buddy archways and iron railings, the countenance is foreboding, with a chuck of Willy Wonka's chocolate factory.
Mike Symington, a quondam announcement camerman, is a polytechnic operator in the CBC's London chifferobe and a regular contributor to CBCNews.ca At opening glance, you can see how it could be a beer drinker's delusion brewery. Our footsteps iteration around the brick walls as I follow Brickwood down a volute staircase to the gunpowder catacombs.
He stops in overlook of a characterless red pipe. This is the fount of an artesian well in the mood for few others in Britain today. "The starting Victorians drilled this well out," Brickwood says.
"It was one of the head things they did, to present cheeky moisten for the fort and the men.".
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