Beer Compurgation

There's a lot of moaners and grouches in the pub. I'm one of them. Some border on misanthropy. We are the regulars who return day after day to complain about every change in light bulb or different angle of pumpclip, yet still return as we know we don’t want to drink anywhere else.  Amongst the malice and hyperbole is one regular who defies the norm and has a smile for every punter and every member of staff. He is universally liked amongst each clique and type of regular. And - more fool him - he has become one of my very good friends.  The wonder of pubs for many is in the friends they make that transcend the days of social media, video calls and constant "group chats." Me and Colin have each other's numbers but they are rarely used, except for the odd facetious text of encouragement - "You are Two-Nil down already mate."  Mostly we just meet at the bar. First by chance. Then increasingly "by chance." Then it became Thu

Dear Beer Con Whilst attending your festival there was some confusion in the queue that led to my hair getting wet. On arrival I wasn’t presented with numerous free tokens. Do you know who I am?. It’s a disgrace. It is no secret that the beer industry can be a pugnacious space. Fuelled by the natural negativity of social media, there are more arguments and squabbles in this vacuous void than ever before. The unrelenting antagonism became a little too much for me last year until a visit to Salford beer festival tore me from the doldrums of despair. The positivity of this particular festival space acted as a personal patronus against the beer Dementors that were slowly sucking the joy from anything to do with this hobby In the ensuing 10 months though the joy began to fade once more. Expense, repetitiveness, FOMO, guilds, Facebook forums and the constant fight for power by the networkers all brought me back within the group of silent, aimless, beer Hattifatte