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I'm forever hearing about the Kent CAMRA Beer Festival too late - usually from people who don't usually drink real ale and were surprised they didn't see me there. Invite me, you bastards, is the silent plea.
So, getting ahead of the deal for once (but not enough to get a ticket to see Steve Hillege and Gong the week before), I arranged to go with the Guinness Crew on the Thursday. (Actually these days they drink Whitstable IPA, but the Bay Boys isn't the same.)
We met at the Doves, where the IPA was off, and walked up the hill to the hospital, and cut across country to the farm. Fortunately it's a tarmacked cycle path, but you bear off across the rugby pitch and over the main road, until you find the farm. It's free in the sense of no ticket on a Thursday night, but you pay to get in, and pay a deposit for a pint glass (which I kept).
Beer is arranged around three walls of a cow shed, with some food in the middle, and a stage and more food on the fourth wall. A Blondie tribute act entertained us until the lightning blew the fuses once too often.
For lo! it rained, it rained a lot, and the water poured off the ceiling and through the ceiling, and forks of lightning stabbed the city. Then we walked back through it, though the rain was mostly gone by then.
I'd spotted one of my students in the distance, and they apparently stalked me home, but they didn't see me take part in the launching ritual of the Guinness Crew, thankfully.
Beers supped:
I think there was one more, but I can't remember.
I'd go again, but would be tempted by the bus...
So, getting ahead of the deal for once (but not enough to get a ticket to see Steve Hillege and Gong the week before), I arranged to go with the Guinness Crew on the Thursday. (Actually these days they drink Whitstable IPA, but the Bay Boys isn't the same.)
We met at the Doves, where the IPA was off, and walked up the hill to the hospital, and cut across country to the farm. Fortunately it's a tarmacked cycle path, but you bear off across the rugby pitch and over the main road, until you find the farm. It's free in the sense of no ticket on a Thursday night, but you pay to get in, and pay a deposit for a pint glass (which I kept).
Beer is arranged around three walls of a cow shed, with some food in the middle, and a stage and more food on the fourth wall. A Blondie tribute act entertained us until the lightning blew the fuses once too often.
For lo! it rained, it rained a lot, and the water poured off the ceiling and through the ceiling, and forks of lightning stabbed the city. Then we walked back through it, though the rain was mostly gone by then.
I'd spotted one of my students in the distance, and they apparently stalked me home, but they didn't see me take part in the launching ritual of the Guinness Crew, thankfully.
Beers supped:
- Millis Ginger Freak (4.1%, Gravesend) - a little disappointing, not that ginger, but a half would have been ample.
- Butcombe Blond (4.3%, Bristol) - for the comedy value
- Kelham Island Easy Rider (4.3%, Sheffield) - very nice indeed
- High House Auld Hemp (3.8%, Newcastle) - no memory
- Valhalla Auld Rock (4.5%, Shetland) - no memory
I think there was one more, but I can't remember.
I'd go again, but would be tempted by the bus...
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