Beer, Buses and Trains

I met The Builder at Waitrose after work yesterday evening. He's working in the BT building not all that far from the Adsetts Centre, but on Fridays he has to go up Ecclesall Road to the agency to get his pay. Eccie Road is not a pleasant experience on a Friday late afternoon, so it seemed easier for me to walk up and meet him somewhere. Anyway, we went home, ambled about, had a bite to eat, (Memo to self: you DO NOT like frozen burgers. You never have done. You are unlikely to change your opinion on this matter. So DO NOT buy frozen mini burgers, even from Sainsbury or Waitrose. You won't like them and they will give you mild indigestion!), pottered a bit more, then caught the bus into Chesterfield, where we were meeting Bea and Steve at the station. There was a free bus service running old buses from the station to the Barrow Hill roundhouse (http://bhess.shu.ac.uk/) where we were going for the Rail Ale (sic) Beer Festival. The driver was very enthusiastic. Very enthusiastic. Said okey-dokey at last once in every sentence, much as writers use commas and full stops!

I've never been to a beer festival before. Hardly surprising, for I do not drink beer. Or not very often. However, there was real cider at this festival as well. Not as many ciders as the 98 different real ales that were on offer. About 6 or 7, with an equivalent number of perries.

It was an interesting evening. The roundhouse is really a large train shed, with a proper, round turning table for the engines. There are many engines to admire. There were also lots and lots of people, and a not terribly good band which played extremely loudly and dressed extremely improbably. Although, interestingly, their performance seemed to improve as the evening progressed. And the lead - erm, guitarist? singer? flautist? Whatever he was the lead of, he played the guitar not all that impressively - but he was very very good on the very long flute and the sax.

I enjoyed the ciders, though they only had two dry ones, one of which was quite startling in its astringency. So I embarked on an adventure in amongst the medium ones, some of which were a bit on the sweet side, while one was really quite dry. Bea, Steve and The Builder happily tasted many different kinds of beer (the grapefruit flavoured one was one I thought I might drink in the summer on hot evenings). Steve had a group of friends there. It was a convivial evening. But it was very crowded and very very noisy. I didn't really get a chance to get to know Steve's mates. I had a good time but I had the distinct feeling that this was something I would really, really enjoy if it had been in a field (with the trains!) where the noise could have escaped upwards and I might have had a chance of hearing some of the things that people said to me.

And there is only so much real cider a body can drink. Unlike the factory made ciders, real cider is full and rich in flavour and body. It is not remotely like drinking Strongbow or Magners, which go down like oddly flavoured water. After a couple of hours I felt that I didn't particularly want to drink any more cider and that a glass of wine would go down quite well. So I moved onto the moonshine style cider, which is very alcoholic but not terribly rich or full-bodied.

Then it was time to go home. We caught the last bus back into Chesterfield, driven by the okey-dokey man. He was sorting out which of the various point en route he needed to stop at. Steve asked if he went to Tupton. Unlikely, since we are on the other side of Chesterfield. "Might do," said the okey-dokey man. "I live in Wingerworth". Got to the station. We, assuming that he ahd been joking about driving on to Tupton, went to get off. He asked us which train we were taking. No train for us. We are going to Tupton too. "What, all four of you?" enquired the okey-dokey man. Yup. All four of us. SO he drove us to the chippie on Green Lane, a whole 5 minute walk from The Sidings. Didn't save us any money, for we put the taxi fare into his voluntary contributions bus. But it did save us faffing about trying to find a taxi. And it's fun riding on the old buses.

Back at home we all had a restorative glass of wine and went to bed. At least, I went to bed. The four hours sleep on Thursday night had seriously caught up with me! I think The Builder, Bea and Steve were not long behind me.

So a good evening. And I would happily do it again. But if we go to the Barrow Hill one next year, I would quite like to go in the afternoon. They do steam train rides between 11 and 5! And, of course, you can stand outside during the day.

I wonder if there are festivals in fields which do ale and cider in more equal proportions. I shall go and find out!