Beyond the ale

Naturally no event like this is complete without a random perusal of my 'peers', in the incredibly vain hope that I was not yet resembling them - or at least not completely. The first such specimen we encountered was serving, and reminded us of a cross between Raymond Briggs' Father Christmas and Fools & Horses' Uncle Albert.

This wizened old chap with his long white beard was to pour my first drink - a half of Limoncello, so named because it is brewed with the Italian lemon liquor. My friends and fellow drinkers Biss & Coop experimented with a beer named 'blow the bloody doors off' from the same local Church End brewery, it was an odd red colour due to being 'enlivened with a touch of Chianti'. Whoever had the idea of mixing wine with beer had clearly been consuming too much of their own brew, mine was the better of the two.

My second was following the route of all the oddly named ales, being titled 'Spanked Monkey'. It put me in mind of a pub in Aldridge I used to pass on a regular basis, and which I've long considered to be the oddest named pub in the UK. I've no idea if 'The Struggling Monkey' is still there, or still open and I have no idea why it has such a weird name. 'Spanked Monkey' was spiked with root ginger and chilli, the latter giving it a delayed kick and an aftertaste which I'm still not sure I fully appreciated.

I'd love to tell you that beer three was served by the guy who resembled a young Baldrick-era Tony Robinson, with hair and a wispy beard. I have no idea why he'd want to cultivate that look and I also have no idea if that statement is true as I've now lost any idea of the order I consumed the drinks in. I hadn't been planning to review the fest and certainly wasn't so anal as to have taken a pen or pencil with me. Oh, no, I had to borrow one to make sure I kept adequate notes.

Suffice to say that Spanked Monkey was followed by Carronade (pale with citrus flavours), Avalanche (straw coloured with citrus flavours - there's a pattern emerging here) and Joybringer Ginger which was my favourite of all the beers consumed last Friday. The clue to how it tasted is in the name, which is just as well because at 6% alcohol I was starting to lose the plot.

The festival was also starting to get somewhat crowded, possibly due to the fact that ale drinkers occupy more space than the average individual, or at least their bellies do. We had been studious in our examination of the 'crowd' assembling, noting that the clientele were younger than we might have expected and there were more women than you'd imagine - although not many more. We were also passed by an individual who looked like a fatter and younger version of the singer in The Magic Numbers, I had wondered what they were up to these days.

I was now moving to experiment with darker beers, consuming a Kenyon Oatmeal Stout which I now only vaguely recall and possibly considered a mistake at the time. Biss was doing the same, though he'd moved onto the Expresso Stout - it being a black beer with coffee beans of course, tasting every bit as bitter as you'd imagine. A very strong (7.2%) IPA from the Beowulf brewery in Cannock tasted every bit as strong as it suggested, and then some. The same brewery's 'strong mild' was also an experience as it seemed to have the flavour of dandelion and burdock.

The latter had been recommended by two blokes I'd entered into conversation with, quite by accident. It transpired that they hailed from the same part of the world as me, and had caught a £5.20 return from Sandwell & Dudley in order to be there. If I recall correctly, one was a magistrate and the other a road sweeper. It only seems unlikely in retrospective sobriety. We were also talking politics, a mistake for me in any state but particularly so in a mildly-merry one; 'AND ANOTHER THING...'

Biss, being used to the crowded confines of a rugby club bar, had now ventured into very dangerous territory. The description of his beer - Dark Destroyer - was simply 'very dark, very strong'. Both were correct, I could tell this from the merest sip that I took. Our inebriated state did not stop us mocking some bloke that then passed us however, as he happened to be wearing a utility belt holding a two-way radio on one side and his pewter tankard on the other hanging from his hips. I rather suspect we mocked him too loudly as we were soon preparing to leave.

I recall venturing to the other side of the barrels for a repeat of the Joybringer Ginger, as Coop indulged in yet more Limoncello. I had managed to sample under a tenth of the beers on offer but had enjoyed the experience. I'd suggest they hold next year's in a bigger venue but as this one was staggering distance from my house I may keep that suggestion to myself.

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