Ale by Rail

Real ale. Trains. Hog Roast. Men. Beerguts. Beards. These are the essential ingredients of the annual Chappel Beer Festival, held at a railway museum (a boozeum, if you will) in Essex. Spratticus, Shelly, Ian and I set off from Liverpool Street, by train of course, yesterday afternoon. We were hoping that we'd be allowed in despite our lack of facial hair, beerguts and in Shelly's case, testicles. Fortunately the Real Ale Gods were smiling on us and for £5 we not only gained admission but also our own returnable commemorative pint glass each. Wa-hey! Straight to the festival's smallest bar then, the Shunter's Arms, situated in a goods wagon, for our first pint. I believe mine was Marsdon Gold, but more precise details of the evening are a little hazy for some reason. Much vintage railway carriage based quaffing of amusingly named draughts followed as we were joined by Adam, who had arrived with a considerable amount of cheese and a pair of doctors. We did the rounds of the other bars, based in the train sheds, and avoided the horrendous covers band belting out 'classics', before catching the 11.00 train back to London. A first class evening all round. There's talk of cycling and camping next year. Bring it on!