Monsieur de la Riviere stubbed out his Gitanes and polished off his pastis as the sun glinted off the Mediterranean - its light piercing through the stench of last night's dinners that had washed out onto the streets from the innumerable restaurants that adorned the dock front of Marseille. 

It's a cool afternoon in late spring, and as the sound of leather on willow rings out around the village green, WG hoists a short, leg side delivery to deep on, and tea is taken early.

It is 1784 and Captain Orange Beard is thirsty. He has led a successful campaign of tyranny on the high seas for nigh on seven months, scuttling no less than five schooners, two naval frigates and one galleon, and although his sloop sails low in the sea thanks to a wealth of ill gotten gains, what he really wants is a drink!

The lush rolling hills of Pajottenland, southwest of Brussels in Flanders, is a picture perfect setting befitting any classic landscape oil painting of the 1800s. Chequered patches of farmland work their way across this fertile site - but it’s not just the earth here that is rich with life, the air is too.

I saw this beer and couldn’t help but think of the Belgian surrealist artist René Magritte. Do you know the chap? He painted some fabulous stuff in the 1920s and 30s and one of his most famous was a picture of a pipe, plain and simple, with the inscription - ceci n’est pas une pipe written below and which translates into 'this is not a pipe'.