"Evening, Boris!"

It had been a long, long afternoon. Taking a hangover to the cricket seemed the decent thing to do. Derbyshire v Notts developed slower than a Pinter play. I slept the sleep that only county cricket fans know;  inevitable yet dangerous, as a thud through point peppered the seats nearby.

But I'd promised to go to Burton that evening. To be fair, Beer Town has very few reasons to make even the most beeriest of beer fans go there. But the Coopers Tavern is one of them. And the Honourable Order of Bass Drinkers is another.

Formed in 1967 by sports writers on the Manchester Evening News, the HOBD still gather and revel in their love of draught Bass. Every year they journey to Burton to tour the brewery (now at Marston's) and drink at the Coopers Tavern. And I took up their invitation to join them.

For those readers unfortunate enough to have never met me in person, I am blessed with a corpulent mien and a hairdo that resembles an exploding hay bale. Not dissimilar to a certain journalist-cum-politician with whom I share a surname. And a love of bangers and mash.

Hence the bellowed welcome.

After that? Well, what happens at the Coopers stays at the Coopers. Suffice to say that the chairman ensures that glasses never remain empty, a swift nod to the treasurer leads to more and evermore Bass arriving at table. Banter is redefined by a bunch of blokes who have been taking the piss out of each other for a long time. Grown men cry with laughter.

And all because there's a beer called Bass, one that some drinkers felt was worth fighting to find, one that they pride themselves on draining nowadays wherever available. From before CAMRA was founded, a mission undiluted, a motto pure and simple - "Never do things by halves".

The next time I meet up with them, I promise I'll actually ask them some questions. Like, was Bass really better back in the day - whenever that day was. Like, what draws you towards drinking Bass to the practical exclusion of other beers?

Like, what do I need to do to be voted in as a full member and be awarded one of those ties?

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Burton: beer town. It's difficult to over-estimate just how important a role the town has played in the history of English brewing. The story of Burton is the story of pale ale, of industrial complex, of international trade, domestic economy and the changing face of brewing through the centuries. It's one hell of a story to tell. And that's what Roger Protz sets out to do in his latest book.

From brewing at the Benedictine abbey, through to the Baltic and India export eras and the economic politics of British brewery mergers, Protz guides a familiar course past the recognised markers of Burton's beery history. The rise of Bass and Worthington are handled with aplomb, likewise the indelible effect that the town had on the growth of pale ale and the seemingly-hard-to-pin-down style of Burton ale itself.

After a first read-through, though, I found myself wanting to know more. More about the town and how being riven by brewing shaped Burton's development. More about the characters and the coopers. There are plenty of good-quality plates with excellent photographic reproductions, but the book cries out for at least one map to put the scale of the enterprise into perspective (something that "Brewery Railways of Burton on Trent" managed to do so well some fifteen years ago).

Maybe the problem is that Burton's history is so intertwined with that of English brewing that it's difficult to tell the tale without constant reference to the bigger picture. The problem then is that whole chapters seem tangential to the town. The Babington Plot makes for good history, but the fact that a Burton brewer was involved makes it feel more like filler than thriller in this context. And some content sits uneasily; towards the end of the book there's a number of chapters that are re-writes of articles that the author has already published on his website. I was hoping for a reflective ending that brought together the town's rich and diverse history. Instead, the book ebbs away.

I have a feeling that there's two great books yet to be written about Burton and beer; one which captures the complexity of the economic history hinted at by Gourvish & Wilson, another that emphasises the importance of personality as well as water chemistry to the rise and fall of Burton's brewing. The Story of Brewing in Burton On Trent hints at a few panels in the town's rich tapestry; it will be future work that revels in the overall splendour and/or reveal the fine detail.


The Story of Brewing In Burton On Trent is published by The History Press. Many thanks to them for the review copy.


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Breweriana. It sounds like such a magical place. You know; take a wrong turning back from the toilets, open a suspiciously-wardrobe-like door and you're there. A lion sings and fonts spring forth and spout the best beers in the world....

Oh. Wait. I see what I've done there. That's not what breweriana is.

In essence, it's anything with a brewery or beer brand name on it. And when I say anything, I mean anything. Pumpclips, labels, adverts, windows... breweriana encompasses a broad beery church. As I've mentioned before, collecting doesn't really float my boat but last weekend saw curiosity get the better of me. CAMRA were holding their annual breweriana auction just down the road from me in Burton, so I thought I'd tag along and see if I could snaffle a bargain.

Perhaps a long-lost crate of King's Ale? One of those salmon-pink porcelain mugs so beloved of Orwell, going for a song? A quick shufti at the list of lots revealed lesser splendours for my tastes, but I still thought it was worth a crack.

Burton's Town Hall was fairly quiet and it seemed clear that many in attendance were usual faces at these kind of events. Local MP and chair of the All-Party Parliamentary Beer Group, Andrew Griffiths, gave a rousing introduction about how vital brewing was to this country; sadly I didn't get the chance to talk High Strength Beer Duty with him. Another time, maybe.

There were a few early lots that I had an eye for. Sadly, the price of a few books and a rather bizarre Gibbs Mew 'Blue Keg' plastic advert sign soon spiralled beyond my limited budget. It's tempting to get auction-fever and pay over-your-own-odds for something; likewise, to bid and buy anything for the sake of it. But I wasn't being saddled carrying a Tetley's Mild pub window home on the train with me. Close call, though...

A disappointing day? Far from it. I'd arranged with auctioneer Mike Peterson to collect some commemorative bottles I'd bought from his collection. They'll find their way into the Christmas stockings of friends, although I'm keeping the Home Brewery D.H. Lawrence Centenary Ale - you take the toper out of Eastwood, but you'll never take Eastwood out of this toper.

And, in a great twist of fate, I actually bought something from one of the stands which I'd have happily bid for. A ten-sided handled glass, bang-on my budget. This one being stamped 301 for the West Riding of Yorkshire. Which is why I'm drinking Timothy Taylor Landlord out of it tonight and really rather enjoying it.

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Beer Town isn't what it once was. There are still serried ranks of fermenters but the scale of Burton's former glory days is better measured by the absence of the past. Private railways that once split through streets into brewer's yards have been ripped away and replaced by access roads for sprawling car parks. A decaying leisure complex floods the area between the River Trent and the High Street where malthouses and breweries once crowded. Every superstore, every retail park, every shopping centre... everywhere there once was industry and service to supply and support it.

Tangible signs of Burton's past are comparatively few. And it seems the same could be said for IPA. The last time I went looking, with beer polymath Phil Lowry, we came up short. Familiarity, certainty and blind hope would guide me this time.

I made early doors at the Burton Bridge Inn. Damp dogs drying before the fires, weathered old men drank from pewter tankards whilst holding slightly-shouty conversations. And I get what I'm looking for; a bottle of the brewery's Empire Pale. Scant head suggests little condition but there's spiced, chewy marmalade and an almost-aggressive Burton snatch.

The rain still lashed down all along Bridge Street as I headed for the Brewery Tap of the National Brewery Centre. And here's my dead cert: I can't imagine them not having Worthington White Shield. Plenty of it on offer today; Sunday diners don't seem to be ale drinkers so it seemed to be me with the only cask pint. A few bedraggled parties from the museum tour enjoyed their splash-in-a-glass samples.

I'm still not sure why Eastenders was showing on the flat screen TV - surely that's why people go out on a Sunday? Truth be told, the Brewery Tap bar nowadays is more like a holding pen for diners before they shuffle off to the restaurant. There's plenty of wood and chrome but the place isn't exactly a destination in itself. Still, I was happy to skulk in a corner and read the IPA chapter of 'Amber, Gold & Black' IPA by Martyn Cornell. Drinking IPA in Burton whilst reading about IPA; priceless.

As for White Shield; earthy, fruity, rough-handed rather than gentle caressing... and again has that snatch to remind you, uncompromisingly, that you're drinking a beer brewed in Burton.

The wind blew me down Guild Street and off to the Cooper's Tavern. Which was quiet, their lunchtime crowd must have drifted off into the mizzle. No hoped-for Thornbridge Jaipur; the only IPA was from Newby Wyke and that spluttered a last gasp into the glass. Only one thing for it; I'd have to drink Bass instead.

Cards on the table: I don't care how the incremental changes have changed the beer over time, how it's all-too often a piss-poor beer in dodgy pubs, about the irony of how the world's first trademarked beer brand is owned by AB-Inbev and contract-brewed for them at Marston's whilst celebrated at a museum funded by Coors.

Good beer is where you find it: I find it in a Bass cask at the end of a corridor in the Cooper's.

The act of drinking beer is many things to many people at many times; social, raucous, convivial, introspective. For me, for an hour on Sunday it was contemplative. A half-hearted attempt at a crossword, farting about with my camera, thinking....

There's IPA to be had in Burton, for sure. It may not be what you're expecting. But that maybe because you sometimes need to challenge your assumptions about IPA. And about beer. And as to why it matters.

Today's Obviously Made Up Fact About IPA:

IPA is illegal in sixteen US states under “misuse of trade description” legislation. Such beers have to be sold instead as “hoppy pale ales originally brewed for, but not exclusively supplied to, the area of South Asia now known as the federal constitutional republic of India”.

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I don't usually do event announcements but there's a couple coming up in February in various Midlands cities that are well worth making the effort to get to.

SIBA are running their first ever keg festival on Tuesday 8th February at the Canalhouse, Nottingham. Kicking off at 5pm, straight after the Champion Keg judging, over 50 beers will be on offer from the likes of Brewdog, Freeedom, Fuller's and Harviestoun. A full list can be found over on Ed's Beer Site.

The Brewing Industry International Awards return to Burton-upon-Trent and features the International Festival of Beer at the National Brewery Centre from Friday 11th to Sunday 13th February. Not sure what beers to expect but with entries from places as far-flung as Belarus, Japan, Laos and Tanzania it'll be a surefire way for me to tick off a few more countries on my world beer list.

And the Derby CAMRA Winter Festival has a new time and place, Thursday 24th - Saturday 26th February at the Derby College Roundhouse. It's a converted rail shed slap bang next to the railway station; shuttle buses will run from the city centre. The only problem with this fest in the past had been the cramped venue; the Roundhouse looks very impressive and I'm sure the festival organiser (and new Alexandra Tavern landlord) Ralf Edge will have plenty of good beer on offer.

So, that's a unique UK keg beer festival, a comprehensive world-beer festival and an ever-impressive CAMRA winter beer festival. If you haven't been to Nottingham, Burton or Derby before - and goodness knows why not if you love beer - then get these dates in your diary. I'll be around at all three. See you there. >

Stepping off the train at Burton, there's a whiff of the subcontinent about the town. Sadly, it's not the sweet hoppy aroma of IPA-in-the-making but of curry. Which is a bugger for two reasons; it makes me hungry for lamb bhuna at eleven o'clock in the morning and it makes me thirsty for Jaipur. Fortunately, that latter is a commodity that Beer Town can offer up within minutes of arriving there - if you know where to look.

A day of not-Christmas-shopping with another thirsty toper, Chris McBride, showed that Burton may be a pencil-thin shadow of the brewing colossus it once was but good beer is where you find it. Starting at the Cooper's Tavern; it's been a brewer's house, brewery tap and bottle store in its time. It serves Bass straight from the cask. It often sells Jaipur and it did today. And as Alex Ferguson has never said; "Jaipur! Bloody hell!". And for some inexplicable reason, Chris and I were drawn to rocking the treadle of a Singer sewing machine now converted into a bar table...

Over at the Burton Bridge Inn there was a beer and food pairing that ought to make Mark Dredge weep; Damson Porter, bacon & black pudding sandwich. I'd say more about the place, but that pairing says it all.

And then there was The Brewery Tap. We came here to try one beer in particular - Carling Extra Cold. It's always special to drink a beer at the place where it's brewed and... er, let's try that one again. We went there to try one beer in particular - cask White Shield. It's always special to drink a beer at the place where it's brewed and White Shield was dazzlingly fruity-fresh.

Today's bottle: whilst we were there, we surreptitiously opened up a Bass 200. Brewed for their bicentenary celebrations in 1977, this was my early Christmas present from Chris. And for a capped beer over thirty years old, it was still chock full of condition. I even wrenched a tendon or two trying to get the bottle open. The taste? Just like sherried cola. C-o-l-a cola.

Today's gift: Michael Jackson on White Shield.

Today's picture: Spot the Bass bottle


Cheers to Stoph for a cracking day out and letting me share in that bottle of 200. >

After a gap of almost two years, Burton is about to make its brewing history come alive again. Saturday 1st of May sees the opening of the National Brewery Centre on the site of the Bass Museum which closed in 2008.

As well as the hundreds of displays and artefacts on show, the new centre promises more interactivity than before with performers in period costume recreating characters from the town's past. I already pity the poor sod who gets to play Michael Thomas Bass II; I suspect that certain anorak-clad groups will bore him rigid.

The old favourites are all (hopefully) still there - it'll be good to see the 1921 model of Burton, laced with locomotives, actually working properly. New shire horses Major and Trooper will be around at the weekends. There's even a holographic presenter - Pepper's Ghost - to welcome visitors to the attraction.

Let's not forget about the beer, mind. A beer tasting masterclass is included in the price of admission and the Brewery Tap will be serving beers brewed on-site by the White Shield brewery. There will be 'beer bites', too - here's hoping Staffordshire tapas offers adequate soakage for thirsty topers.

I'll pop down this weekend (gardening duties permitting) to see for myself how the Bass Museum legacy has been handled.

The National Brewery Centre opens Saturday 1st of May. Opening hours are 10-6; the Brewery Tap bar and restaurant opens 11-11. Admission for adults, including drinks, is £8.95 with concessions at £6.95. Child admission in £4.95 and a family ticket (two adults and two children) costs £24.95. >

#1: Broughton's Pies. Not a tinfoil-thrice-baked pie. Or a slop-in-a-dish-with-puffy-stuff-floating-on-top pie. Just huge slabs of meaty goodness, encased in shortcrust pasty, hewn from a pie several feet wide. With chips. And mushy peas. Proper festival grub.

#2: Tony's Pork Scratchings. Legendary. They curl, they have bristles on, they are shrapnel-hard on the outside and gooey-soft on the inside. I swear that some of them are whole eyebrows. That wink at you from inside the packet. Never have cholesterol-ridden offcuts tasted so good.

#3: The posh seats. Hosted in the Town Hall, upstairs there are cinema-style seats that give you a panoramic view over the carnage beneath. You get to see the stained glass and wrought ironwork ceiling supports close up. But you don't throw pork scratchings at the topers below. That's how you get ejected. And an ASBO.

#4: Martin Atterbury. At lunchtimes, the WurliTzer leaps forth onto the stage and Marty plays all the tunes. Dambusters. Rule Brittania. Coconut Airways. Too Drunk To Fuck. Possibly not the last two. But he does often wear a salmon-coloured suit and he wears it well.

#5: Public transport. It's five minutes from the bus stop serving Derby. And it's five minutes from the railway station that's opposite that very same bus stop. And thanks to Cross-Country trains, you can get to Burton from all over the country. Mind you, thanks to Cross Country Trains there's no guarantee which station you'll end up travelling via on your way home.

#6: Beers. They have a habit at Burton. They like to put on really good beers that people want to drink. As opposed to beers that thirty people want to tick. So, there will be beers from the likes of Dark Star (Espresso, APA), Brewdog (Edge, Trashy Blonde, 77 Lager, Hardcore IPA), Thornbridge (Seaforth, Jaipur, Epic Halcyon) plus a whole heap of other great stuff.

#7: I'll buy you a beer. All you have to do is approach me with a rolled-up copy of What's Brewing and say "You are the Reluctant Scooper and I claim my free half!".

All the gory details can be found here >

This was a poignant ramble - a trip to Burton to include a visit to the Bass Museum before it was closed down at the end of June 2008.

The history of Burton-upon-Trent is the history of English brewing. Sine the late 1800's, when brewers cottoned onto the fact that the local water was particularly condusive to brewing, Burton has been riven with the industry. The canals and railways provided the arterial supply routes needed to move Burton beers out across the world. Although the town is no longer crammed with thirty-plus brewers as in its heyday, the behemoth brick warehouses of old still vie with steel clad silos full of largering torpor across the Burton skyline.



And it's the recent actions of the Charybdis-like MolsonCoors that brought me to Burton on a wet Saturday in June. They decided to close the Bass Museum - let's call it what it is, it's never really been a 'Coors Visitor Centre' - and I'm not going to pop another ulcer by banging on about that here.

I popped down to Burton early; it's only a thirty minute bus trip straight down the A38 from Derby. A wander around the town led inevitably to a quick half in the nearest 'Spoons, the Lord Burton. It felt dirty to be drinking a Burton Bridge beer in here (Festival Special) but it was well served, well tasty and well cheap.

With the skies turning the wrong shade of grey, I decided to head off to the museum for another beer and wait for Steve and his wife Chrissie who were driving up from Kent.

My first impressions of 'The Brewery Tap' were - who the fuck built a hotel bar on the side of a museum!? The last time I was here, on a cold winter afternoon cradling a nip of Bass Number One, it was a bar crammed full of Bass nick-nacks and a homely feel. Now, it's all clinical chrome and white walls. And the Brewery Tap logo everywhere, even etched into the windows.

It's a bar designed to pander to the corporate hospitality and wedding crowd, those who will neither look nor seek no further than the Coors Light spout. Mind you, the White Shield I tried was still good, the taste holding its own even from within an overly showy chalice glass.























My second impression? What's to stop me waltzing into the museum, unpaid? Well, nothing... has that been the case for some time or just since closure was on the cards? If the former, is there any wonder they were losing revenue? If the latter, then how else is that lack of care going to manifest itself today?

Steve and Chrissie were still en route so I braved the rain for the short dash down the road to the Burton Bridge tap, the Burton Bridge Inn (henceforth the BBI).

This is an intriguing pub; no front door, it's down the alley at the right hand side, and once it you're treated to split level rooms served by a central bar. Narrow pews and loose cushions define the decor in the front bar, with solid tables and chairs to be found in a stouter dining area to the rear. I enjoyed a pint of Burton Porter (and an even more enjoyable corned beef and beetroot sarnie).























Having received a call to say my friends had arrived at museum, I sauntered down there and suggested that we head straight back to the pub - many still close at 2.30pm on a Saturday and the BBI is no exception. They were more than happy at the suggestion and were soon tucking into a range of BB beers - and egg butties, which Chrissie ordered in her most sumptuous accent and made it sound like the sexiest lunch in the world ever.

With lunchtime imbibation complete, it was back off to the musuem. Steve and Chrissie had money-off vouchers; I got in free as a card-carrying CAMRA member... thinks to self: why let in for free those customers who (one assumes) would glady pay to see a brewery museum?

The first section does a passable job at explaining the brewing process in general. Some rather faded figures were propped up over hops or shovelling in the tun. A couple of the exhibits had an audio commentary but I didn't see any of the portable audio guides that used to be on offer (though, truth be told, only about half of the commentary ever seemed to work on them anyway). Various machines could be cranked up (for a few seconds). The mash tun in which the fabled Kings Ale began its life was here as well - albeit only about half of it.

Lots of information boards abound, most of which were genuinely interesting, but it all looked rather outdated. Towards the end of this section, it started to feel less like a coherent exhibition telling a story and more like a random selection of artefacts.

I mooched off to see the shire horses. Here was this museum's nugget of pride; polished brasses and competition rosettes displayed proudly. They horses were still hard at work - one had just returned to the stables to be readied for a wedding party - so hopefully they'll be resettled and continue to work for a living. And, with any luck, that resettlement will allow for re-naming them - I know they're brewery horses but how the hell you could seriously call them Reef, Carling and White Shield is beyond me...

Also outside were a motley collection of buses and delivery vans; let's not ponder too long on the merits of overpainting Bass trucks with the Coors logo. Again, it all felt a little random, no great effort made to explain what the vehicles were or to place them in context. I was getting to the stage, quite frankly, where I found every exhibit a little depressing. All that wasted opportunity - how about the heritage buses being used to take visitors on tours of the town, pointing out notable sites, giving the visitor a feel for what was the grand scale of brewing in Burton?

The next building was a bit of a hotch-potch, too. Remnants of Burton's other lost museum were crammed in for no apparent reason. Again, there were a few working machines (I'm a sucker for firing up well-lubricated pistons). Amongst the random Bass breweriana and rather pallid dioramas, there were a couple of interesting exhibits. The 'pubs through the ages' was good, giving the visitor a feel for how they have always functioned as a social hub as well as being drinking dens. Liked the idea of different pub games in each one. And Steve seemed to be right at home...

Again, though, exhibits such as this made me think how the concept had never really been exploited fully. Why have stuffed dummies behind the bar when you could have had an actor to - er- interact with the visitors? I know it all costs - but what if they'd had guided tours, part of which involved interaction with character actors, charged at a slight premium over the normal entry fee?

The other exhibit which had always attracted me was the model of Burton in 1921 with an N-gauge railway. This gave a real feel for that industrial scale of brewing that I mentioned earlier - to see the town riven with railways, the brewhouses and warehouses crammed together. Again, it's another squandered opportinity as not all the locos seemed to be working (as was ever the case from my previuous trips here). I'd have loved to see the 1921 map projected onto a wall; in fact I would have liked to have seen maps from throughout the town's history projected and overlaid to give visitors an idea of how the brewing industry affected the geography of the town through the ages. But that's the old cartography student in me...

Don't get me wrong. There were still some good exhibits here and a 'beer novice' could visit and at least learn about the rudiments of brewing, the story of beer in Burton and the impact of Bass upon the brewing world. But in many ways it's a museum that's been past its best for some time. It's a curate's egg of a place (pun fully intended); not really a brewing museum, instead a museum to celebrate (commemorate?) a once-proud brewing brand that Coors don't own and don't brew. With the owners several steps removed from true pride and association with Bass, was it any wonder that the museum floundered?

After all that, we needed a beer. It was only a few minutes down the road to the Coopers Tavern - perhaps one of the most interesting pubs I know. No bar, no pumps, beer is served straight from the barrels on a stillage in the corner of the back room. We enjoyed a few good beers here, it's a place where I could happliy spend an afternoon with half-a-dozen ales and a decent crossword. And a carry-out for when I enjoy a curry a few doors down at Balti Towers. We enjoyed some superb beers in a pub where the atmosphere wasn't painted on the walls...

It was my idea to visit the Old Cottage next - after all, they brew their own beer and have been know to serve interesting guest ales. Sadly, I'd left my navigational skills in the pocket of my other coat, and so we circled the Town Hall several times before I found the right road. I wished we'd stayed at the Coopers, though - the whole pub smelt vaguely of loo cleaner and the Old Cottage beers were a tad on the bland side.

There can be no doubt that this country deserves a National Museum of Brewing and it ought to be in Burton - it has the history and it has good transport links to the rest of the country. Incorporation of the Bass collection into a new museum is paramount, but to survive it would need a wider remit. It shouldn't be a repository of redundant brewery ephemera, it needs to tell the story of brewing and tell it well. An on-site brewer with brewery tours is a must - there's surely no better way to appreciate the process than to see it, smell it, feel it, hear it in action.























Living up the road in Derby, I'm all too aware of the Bass legacy. Michael Thomas Bass, grandson of the brewery's founder, was a generous benefactor to our city, including the provision of the 'Free Library'in the Wardwick (still used as a library today) and a recreation ground (one of the rare patches of green left in the city centre). It's about time we honoured that legacy and campaigned for the Bass collection to be a significant contributor to a national museum - one that doesn't just look back into gilded mirrors and reflect on the industry's history but actively involve us all in the joys of brewing. >

A rare treat for me - my wife gets to tag along to a festival! Rebecca likes her cider and perry, so as we both had a few days off work we decided to heads over to Burton upon Trent for their first Spring fest.



An early start on the X38 express from Derby gave us a chance to pop into a Wetherspoons and try one of their festival beers first. Bec eschewed the cider this early on and plumped for hot chocolate, but I couldn't resist a St. Georgen Brau Keller Bier, a wonderfully soft, slightly spicy concoction.

On to the Town Hall, then. I like this as a beer fest venue; one main hall for the stillage, two rooms at the back for seating (or more beers for their main fest in September). It's all on one level, which was ideal for Bec's wheelchair access, with the exception of the theatre seating upstairs.





We met up with some friends in the back, all regulars from the Brunswick in Derby; John, Brian, Ray and 'Magic' Mitch all like a beer or five and have plenty of tales to tell.



Here's a rare picture of Mitch - not mid-magic trick, not trying to sell you a car ;-)
























The beers were fairly varied and in good nick. For me, Burton fests tend to be ones where I stick with the beers I like; Beowolf Dragon Smoke Stout, Whim Black Christmas and Robinson's Old Tom were all in fine fettle. The cider and perry list was small but well formed; Bec tends to drink through the perry list until she finds one she likes and then sticks to it. Here, the firm favourite was a Severn perry that had been finished with whisky - Bec liked it so much that she threw one glass of it all over the table in sheer excitement!

I don't mind being sat away from the action - I like to hear myself think and hear what others have to say - so I'd no problem with the large round tables set up in the rear hall. Though, compared to previous trestle table years, it did seem to cut down on the total number of seats available - especially as what seemed to be a CAMRA meeting had closed the other seated room for a few hours on the Friday.



Food was good fest stuff - freshly made rolls, Broughton's splendid pies and the incomparable pork scratchings from Tony's on Burton market.

As for the entertainment - what more could you want than a sing-a-long with the salmon-jacketed maestro of the WurliTzer, Martin Atterbury? Indeed, many of the older ladies I spoke to that lunchtime said they'd travelled to Burton just to see Martin finger his organ on stage.
























All in all, fest of fun. Good beers in good nick, well-proportioned venue, plenty of decent snap, plenty of scope for a laugh and close enough to the rail station / bus stop for the short hop home. Now, Mitch; that's magic!

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