As I walked through the streets of Oxford on Tuesday night I came across a classic, small English pub, simply named “Old Tom”. Suddenly my mind was full with memories of my wonderful grandfather Tom. It seemed very appropriate to step inside an enjoy an ale and remember my Tom!

I can’t recall how my brother, cousins and I came to simply call our grandfather “Tom”. But that’s affectionately who he was to us for all of his life. It was always “Grandma and Tom”. He never saw it as a sign of disrespect but rather he seemed to wear it as a badge of honour – a sign of his close and loving affinity with his six grandchildren.

It was a wonderful privilege to have Thomas Harold Butler as my grandfather. In my childhood, youth and young adult years I spent much time with grandma and Tom at their humble home – 13 Railway Street, The Junction, in Newcastle. They were rich and formative times. Tom was a constant, gentle presence in my life. Always interested, always encouraging. He modelled to me humility, service of others, loyalty and contentment.

By the time the next generation came along, Tom simply, and so naturally, became “old Tom”, just like the name of the old Oxford ale house.

And yes, Tom liked a beer. He wasn’t a pub man. His watering hole was the local South Leagues Club in Newcastle, where he had legendary status in the day. Tom realised in his teens playing rugby league wasn’t for him, but he loved the game and wanted to be a part of the Lions outfit. Few 16 year olds volunteer to serve at the local footy club these days, but he did back in the 1930s. He would stay involved in the club for more than 70 years, with almost five decades as the footy club secretary. At 90 he was still serving, funnily enough as Junior Vice President!

In his retirement years, Tom would walk to the club around 5pm, meet some long-time mates, enjoy two beers, and be home for dinner. It was a ritual. Short but sweet.

And so, as I thought about my Tom in Old Tom’s this week, one thing was a certainty. He wouldn’t have been a fan of the warm beer served to me, or had any clue of what a craft pale ale was! Tom was a Tooheys man and liked his beer cold. I’m with him when it comes to the temperature, but I’m glad that tastes have evolved from his days.

As I ordered my Black Sheep pale ale, I smiled as I saw Fosters, “Australia’s famous beer” still on tap in an Oxford pub in 2023. Now my beloved grandfather worked on the wharves in Newcastle in his younger years, embedding in him a life-long leaning to the Labor Party. And so a beer owned back then by the wealthy and brash President of the Liberal Party meant Fosters was off Tom’s drinking list. If Tom was around today, I don’t think I could convince him to try a hazy, tropical pale ale. But I’m sure he would love a Hawke Lager!

Thanks to the Old Tom Inn for letting me sit for a while to remember and cherish my wonderful grandfather, Thomas Harold Butler – a man of simple pleasures, a man who loved his family, a gentleman, a good man. My Tom!