"All Real Ales Outside £1 a Pint".

The runt end of a too-long Bank Holiday. Outside, the beers are cool; the punters are colder. Three lads in over-optimistic shorts head inside. A few hardy wax jackets and pork pie hats stand fast by the bar. Flustered bunting scratches at slab-grey clouds.

They may run flat, but the beers are still full of flavour. Ascot Ales' Alligator has lost none of its Cascade bite. With bitter orange and soft malts, Old Slewfoot's Orange Blossom Special has a breakfast-tray tang that makes me think of warm duvets and weekend papers. Rather than drinking by the recycle bins in the mizzle.

It becomes difficult to read the screen of my phone as I type. A lazy exodus from beer garden to bar fireside begins. The lads in shorts begin bantering about warmer times. One of the old guard can't be tempted away from his Smoothflow by the offer of a cheaper pint. Someone's beer widow is confused as to how a pub can "run out" of latte.

Back outside, the bar area itself under cover, a knot of new arrivals drip onto the flagging and look warily at the bargains. I buy Barista by Summer Wine which fountains into a glass. I can almost smell the coffee in it from this side of the bar. But it's a bittersweet sight, a cask this full on the last day of a festival. I wonder why as I drain the pint slowly. I wonder more as I drain another four over the languorously overcast afternoon.

Sat on his usual stool by the back bar, Eddie says "It's madness!" I'm not sure whether he means the festival still running on the Tuesday or the Jubilee in general. My bus is due. I wobble off. Happy and glorious.


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We happy few become part of a joyous crowd; the pomp and circumstance, the ritual and tradition, the feeling of togetherness. Of eating burnt food, dancing in the streets and singing with strangers.

Beer festivals. Don't you just love them?

Whilst Liz and Phil wander round getting rained on this loooong weekend, us sensible types will be down the pub for a beer or four. There's usually plenty of fests on over a Bank Holiday and Jubilee weekend  - let's make that Ju-Beer-Lee, shall we - is no exception.

I'll be trying to cram in visits to four fests that each offer something a little different.

When Roger and Penny Myring ran the Smithfield in Derby, their beer fests were legendary. Strong hoppy stuff was always the order of the day by the likes of Hopshackle, Dark Star and Brewdog (ah, remember the days when Brewdog brewed cask and Punk wasn't always fizzy?). Now they've moved a few streets over to Nottingham Road and The Peacock, I'm looking forward to seeing what they conjure up.

Up in North Derbyshire / South Yorkshire the Three Valleys fest stretches over ten pubs with a free minibus shuttle running between them on certain days. I'll probably make it as far as the Coach And Horses in Dronfield with their two-dozen beers - including Thornbridge's finest - and move no further. Well, maybe to the barbeque and back.

Some of London's best brewers are represented at the Organ Grinder fest in Nottingham. Stand- in manager Chris Sherratt has sourced brews by the likes of Brodies, Redemption and Botanist. There will be several Blue Monkey specials on the bar too.

And of course I'll be barfly at my almost-local, the General Havelock in Ilkeston, as they ramp up their usual 40-ish cask selection to around a hundred over the weekend. With bar, cellar and outdoor stillage all in action, there's plenty of beer and cider on offer including a few that don't often make it out of their home counties. And of course there will be lashings of the best that the contemporary English brewing scene has to offer from Magic Rock and Summer Wine, including up for four kegged beers by the latter. Food in the shape of a big pig on turning stick is also available.

Happy and glorious. I'm off to iron my drinking trousers. See you down the pub. >