In July I turned 40.  It's not something I want to shout about too much, but it is something me and two of my closest mates knew we had to celebrate ... especially as they both hit 40 within ten days of me.  What're the chances?  Slim.  What was the plan?

The Great British Beer Festival, of course.

Brave explorers all, we set off from my friend's house in Wilton (close to Salisbury), wearing matching white tee shirts promoting his new book.  We were meeting up with several other people in London and, all wearing the same shirt, sure, we felt like wallies.  But inside Earls Court we realised what a good idea they turned out to be.  It meant we could wander off on our own and always find our way back to the (glaringly white) gang again.

This was my first big beer festival. I wasn't sure what to expect.  Beer, of course.  Food stalls. And it turned out to be a truly memorable experience, from entering the hall and buying my commemorative pint glass, sampling my first beer (a splendid American stout which, forgive me, I didn't note the name of, and which left me fearful that it was going to cost £1.60 for a third of a pint all day), to leaving the hall six hours later having sampled too many beers to remember, from the indifferent to the sublime.

There were food stalls to cater for all tastes, from traditional burger and chips through to alligator or ostrich burgers; tee shirt stalls (being a horror writer I bought one showing a take on The Exorcist promo poster ... re-titled The Excessist); stalls selling pub paraphenalia (my friend Richard bought a few bits and pieces for his own pub, the Plump Duck ... a bar in his living room, no less);  several pub games lined up towards the rear of the hall; and CAMRA were there reeling in the memberships.

Between us we sampled ... many beers.  Standouts for me included St George's Dragon's Blood, Windsor Castle's Mud City Stout, Hook Norton's Summer Haze, and Whitstable's Oyster Stout.   And although we sampled lots of beer, we left at around 6pm with little more than a gentle buzz, and the sense that we'd started something that will hopefully continue year after year - the Annual Trip.

Upon returning to Wilton, we found that we had a thirst again, so we visited Richard's local pub The Bear (a real pub this time, not his front room), and had a couple more quiet pints before bed.

I'd recommend the Great British Beer Festival to anyone with even a passing interest in fine ales, independent brewing, good food, and good company.  The atmosphere was outstandingly friendly and jolly, and as the day wore on and I saw one or two gents who'd been sampling perhaps a bit too much - one of whom had decided that leaning against a column was a good place to sleep - they were quickly 'moved on'.

I love smaller beer festivals - in fact, I'm visiting Polperro this coming Saturday, and certainly plan on popping into their annual beer festival again.  But this was a whole new experience, and one I plan on repeating again soon.

Related posts:

1. Finding Great Beer in Surprising Places
2. Great Beer, Terrible Journalism
3. Tasting Notes from the Altrincham Bottle and Cask Festival 2009
4. Tim Lebbon: Beheaded at the Polperro Beer Festival
5. The Robin Hood Beer Festival r…