The CAMRA Potteries Beer and Cider Festival 2012, held over three days in October at the Fenton Manor Sports Centre, Stoke-on-Trent, is over. The gentle rumble of conversation augmented during different sessions by the music of Hayley Strangelove, Hornswaggle, The Audley Brass band and - going out in big, hot, style - The Jalopinos, has finally given-way to the squeak of trainers, the shots of shuttle-cocks and the cries of sportists.
Over 4000 people visited the three-day bash, more than 50 volunteers staffed it, 200 barrels of Real-Ale, 50 kegs of Cider, hundreds of bottles of European beers and a significant number of English Country Wines were well sampled. The pie, sandwich and chocolate sellers all helped soak-up the atmosphere and the engaver engraved - freehand - to the delight of present-givers and celebrationists alike. The Douglas Macmillan Hospice was exceedingly well supported with tipplers donating freely to the Charity and three beer glasses were accidentally broken and cleared. The Festival Committee mooched quietly after the doors closed on the Saturday night; tired, but satisfied. There had been no bother. By mid-day on the Sunday, the hall was clamourless, cleared, cleaned and classy; almost clerical.
So; not the sort of story to make it into the British newspapers.
But is there a story? I thought there might be, but not the story about the volunteers; "Why do you do it?", "What's in it for you?", "How can you justify all this work and effort, for no pay?"
After-all, if you had wanted the answers to those questions you'd have asked them at the Festival, wouldn't you?.
No; I thought I'd ask different people different questions, "Why do you come?", "What do you get out of it?", "Is a Beer and Cider Festival important or just a different night out?". I thought I'd ask people who might have differing perspectives.
So, for instance, I was introduced to Bill. Bill is old enough to be counted as a seasoned beerist and he may have more than one hobby; but travelling to Beer Festivals wherever he can manage to reach them, is one. He often travels alone. He recons that such travelling people could be seen as "Festival junkies" (I think he meant "groupies"). He goes travelling for the "atmosphere", though Stoke is "quite local". "Not for the pies or the cider; but for the beers", "It's not difficult (to go)", "They're all different", "You do see some 'tickers', but I'm not one". "A 'ticker'", he explains, "'ticks-off' beers they haven't had before on their imaginary list. Some even do have a list", he adds and we look around, but we can't see any.
A group of men are propping the Local Ale bar. I interrupt their serious discussion. Shaun is a local publican. He can't speak for every Festival but, "This one brings brewers and landlords together". And he enjoys talking, "..... not about how many people come into my pub; here I can meet my customers at a social event. It puts your pub into the context of the community", he reasons, and we, "..... meet in a different atmosphere". When I ask the obvious question, I get a suprise; "No, it's not all about ordering beer and doing deals". And his brewer companions seem to agree.
Dave sees a festival as an opportunity to, ".... showcase my beers". "I can meet other people who don't go into the pubs they supply". Not being a brewer I miss the significance of this, but he's moved-on; "This is a good, safe, place to get young drinkers to try beer - not lager".
I'm wondering about competitiveness and the group agrees that a festival isn't about competing. In any case, competition is a matter for the 'outlets', the brewers say. "Small breweries are friends and help each-other", someone clarifies, and no-one disagrees.
Steve, who has been thoughtfully quiet (I'm not sure if he's a closet philosopher or just 'lost' in a newly-found taste sensation), is another publican. "I come because I want to find beers I don't know". "I want to meet little brewers", and he is not referring to their girth because he then gives me the impression that 'reps', and some 'big brewers', can seem haughty and spoil the ambience.
I went looking for one of Dave's new, young, drinkers and a group of friends all pointed at Jim. It was his first Festival and he was ".... suprised to learn about the history and traditions", and he now wants ".... to go to others". "It's an opportunity to try beer and perry". (Which, as we know, is what happens because there's no industrial lager, or keg beer, at a Real-Ale Festival.)
Neil is a local lad; 30ish I guess, who drinks at a local 'Free-house'; a category of pub not owned by a huge brewery and so able to choose the beers it sells. "It's an opportunity to talk to other publicans". "I like the idea of the 'LocAle' bar", he says; referring to the long bar where all the beers are from within a 35 mile radius (56km) of Fenton Manor. I ask him about his new 'personal beer of the Festival'. "Describing beers is almost impossible and is a challenge", he tells me, ".... and even a Real-Ale you know well can vary a bit in a different batch".
So, having missed-out on the group's attempts to classify their beers, I go in search of a visitor to Stoke. I find Peter from Manchester. He attends every year to meet old friends and to satisfy his need to travel. He's a member of CAMRA (the 'Campaign for Real Ale', www.camra.org.uk ) and delights in news about micro-breweries. He's enjoying stories about Stoke's local breweries and the latest brews, but "... there's no 'tasting notes' in the programme", so he might have to drink in 1/3rds of a pint to "... learn about a sufficient range of brews". I hear my first criticism, but since I don't know where there's a chocolate beer, I recommend a quiet browse at the speciality chocolate stall. Later I feel bad. I didn't warn him about the 'Scorpion Chilli' at the end of the free-sample display.
I find a seat with some senior visitors. To these guys, just like someone's birthday or wedding anniversary, the Stoke Beer and Cider Festival is a social event. Maybe like an annual tea-dance but stronger and without as many women. "It's a bit of a ritual", Simon explains. During the year he collects memories and trivia and swaps them with these annual aquaintancies. "Meeting friends". "It's a City issue". "Brass bands". "It's much bigger now". "Shame about the King's Hall". He refers to the times, years ago, when the Stately Hall was used as the venue. Atmosphere: yes, comfort; no. Popularity has its downside.
I go to investigate an accent.
Tim is on the other end of a splendidly antipodean outburst. "Of course these festivals are important; they're part of 'Middle-England'". I wonder if I being patronised. "These aren't for tourists". "How would tourists know they existed; they're not on the tourist track". No, I'm not being patronised. This is a new perspective. As I turn away, I'm honoured with a quality "... fair dinkum", but thankfully no 'cobber' - and no Foster's!
I promise you that there was no subliminal connection between Australia and an urge to ask questions of some women; when I'd turned, they were just there. Susanne, Elizabeth and Yvonne. "It's a social day out", I was told. "You might meet new people; like you might on a holiday", said one. "It's different, but it's in our community; it's local", said another. And then it poured out. "There's more women come every year". "It's not expensive". "My husband's at home with the family". "You feel safe here; men don't come here to meet and hassle women". "There's all sorts of people from different backgrounds here". "You've been talking to that Aussie guy and there's some gay blokes over there". "We always come here. We've never felt unsafe, have we?"
So, there you have it. I know it's not a piece of social research; it was never meant to be. But maybe there are some views you didn't expect?
Make of it what you will.
See you next year?
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