Wednesday 29th October 2014

Monday.

Back to work.

Only, its not. You see, I cleared my calendar for a few days this week so I could go to the beer festival in Norwich. And why not, there will be precious little time off from this point on, possibly until the early summer, so get it in now!

Jools, sadly because of the firing and then re-employment thing, dod not have enough holiday, or so she thought, to accompany me, so I booked travel and hotel for myself, and at half eight, Jools dropped me off in Dover so I could grab a second breakfast before catching the nine o'clock train out to Ashford and then a quick change, and onto Stratford.



I went into Chaplins for a medium breakfast (no tomatoes, extra hash browns) and that set me up very well for the day indeed. I could not leave until nine, as train rules mean that if you arrive in London before ten, that counts as peak time, and almost double the fare. So, I am happy enough with the train I have to catch, as I would arrive in Norwich at half twelve, giving me five hours to pass before the drinking would begin.

The train is quite full, I realise that this week the kids are on holiday, which means that on this the first cheap train to London, most Kentish families would be taking the kiddies up to that London for the day.

I get off at Stratford and listen as a stressed young Mother tried to find out from a train cleaner, who did not know, where the train for Norwich left from. Feeling sorry for her and her son, I said that I would be catching the same train, and so I would take her to make sure she got on it. She was relieved. So we sat at the front of the DLR train for one stop, the passing by platform 10 we went to 10A, a different platofrm, oddly, and waited in the right area of the platform where the standard class seating would be. She and her son, and I, got on and soon were whizzing through the north London suburbs and in to Essex, heading north and into the wilds of East Anglia. Through Chelmsford, Colchester, Ipswich and into Norfolk at last, arriving in Norwich just about on time and with time, for me, to spare.



I drop my bag off at the hotel, and my room was ready so I freshen up before walking back out into the wonderful late autumn sunshine. Up Pronce of Wales Road, where even more clubs and bars seem to have opened, along past the cathedral into Tombland to the new brewery tap for Redwell, The Mash Tun for a relaxing beer, a warm up for the festivities later on. I have a pint of pale ale, then try their dark pils which was infused with coffee beans and dark chocolate. It was stunning, so much so I have a second.



I walk to the fish bar opposite the old Pottergate Tavern for a big portion of chips and a battered sausage, something to line my stomach with! I sit on a bench next to a young couple, who were smoking pot and discussing what tattoos to get next, as well as his next appointment with a psychiatrist. Maybe pot was not the best idea, I don't know, but they were happy enough, in their simple simon druggy way, talking about getting an apple tattooed on his adam's apple, maybe with an arrow through it. The arrow would be a classy touch! I leave them to it, and walk to the mustard museum shop, hoping to get some powdered mustard for Anni at work, but they have had printing problems with the bags, apparently, and have none.



Time then to head to St Andrew's Hall to queue up for the festival. It is good to be near the front, to get in early, get a table and have the choice of beers. My friend Simon was coming in to town to join me, and I get the message he will be with me just before 5. He is surprised that there is a queue. In fact on a busy session, it goes all the way down to Colgate, but lunchtimes are usually quieter, even on the first night.



At half five we are let in, we get our glasses, our beer tokens and get a table before selecting our first beers. We are joined by a couple of couples, with whom we chat with and watch as the ladies get tipsy very quickly on strong cider. At half eight, and after several pints, it is time for Simon to head to the station for his train home. There is time to call in at the Compleat Angler for a pint before he goes, leaving me to drink up and then head back to the hotel for a cuppa and to fall asleep.