Friday 3rd February 2017

At one point, it seemed that we would have about half a dozen staying with us this weekend. But one by one, people dropped out until there was me left. And why was this important this weekend, I hear you ask. Well, beer festival time.

No other words needed.

And, all that I had to do was get through 5 hours of work first, and all would be fine.

I have some mails to write. Well, that's true for every day, isn't it? But, one by one I tick each item off the to do list, and by eleven, i was just clicking my heels. I book a taxi, then just wait for it to arrive.

It comes at five past twelve, and so I am driven into town in wonderful bright sunshine, dropping me off outside The Rack, where I had said I would be calling in to say hi the Trish.

She finished at half one the night before, but had the place looking spick and span and ready for another 13 or 14 hours serving.

I have a couple of halves, and chat to a couple from Essex, down for the festival. Its all rather nice and pleasant, and so much better than working.

At quarter to one, over to the Maison Dieu to queue up, waiting for the doors to open at one. Its a nice day for a change, and as usual, people come up to ask what we're standing in line for. They seem happy enough with our answer.

The doors open just before one, and so file through, then have to stand in line again to get our glasses and beer tokens, in exchange for money of course. I go straight for a pint of Plum Porter Grand Reserve, a smooth as you like porter, and strong at 6.7%. I have others, mostly Porter, but they blur into one after a while. At some point I go back to the Rack to wait for Jools, and there they had just tapped a barrel of beer at 8.8%. Did I want to try?

Oh dear.

Thankfully, Jools arrives before five to rescue me and take me home. She goes to the chippy, we eat, then I snooze on the sofa, waking up in time to see TOTP. At half eight, I am done. So we go to bed, I am soon snoring for England. And Wales. And Scotland.