So I hit the Great British Beer Festival on 4th August with some old and some new buddies. I got there a bit late after drinks with a client, but was looking forward to some QT with some good old friends. It was horrendously crowded, with 30 minute queues for the cashpoint, beer stands and toilets. Basically, you couldn’t get a drink without queuing, couldn’t take a leak without queuing – these are the most frequent things you’re likely to do when you go drinking, so when will you ever get a chance to actually talk to your friends (except in the loo queue)?
This beer festival is one of those things that you realise is much better as a memory. I first came to this event in 1993, when I was seventeen and thought drinking for the sake of drinking was cool (I had yet to discover the evil cider revenge that we all go through).
The best thing about the festival was seeing Lee, Dunk, Nev and Cas. Next best thing was observing the “Real-Ale Enthusiasts” or “Beer Hobbyists” as they waddled around the festival; with socks, sandals, breasts (men included) and beards (women included). It was also nice taking a little walk and a crafty smoke through the madness of Earl’s Court afterwards.