Real Ale for Real Men

Such is the glamour of my life that I spent all afternoon at the Battersea Beer Festival, in what appeared to be a local town hall. Type of place you normally see school nativity plays performed. I went to the one in Olympia last year and it was fun - lots of boys and girls my age. This one was full of the usual CAMRA stereotypes. Beards aplenty - on the ladies as well as the gentlemen. Beer bellies, knitted jumpers, hygene issues and UKIP memberships galore. There really were some "characters" there. One old gentleman (looked like Captain Birdseye) fell and bloodied his face; a wobbling, greasy haired man appeared to be suffering from rickets; another, in yellow anorak wandered dementedly round and round; and a young man old enough to know better attempted to glide about the room, apparently believing himself to be a creature of the night. Foolishly, I dressed up for the event and felt not a little out of place (when you work at home any excursion into the outside world is an even in itself). Still, I got to drink nice beer all afternoon long and talk nonsense to friends - and it will be something to tell the grandchildren about as they nestle on my flabulous ale gut in 40 years' time. And the ladies' loos were beautifully clean. No one in them, you see.