The natural happiness engendered by the occurrence of Saturday (lie-in, no compulsory work, lots of quality parrot-time) was augmented today by our neighbour, Tim, when he came to the door to ask us if we fancied going to the first ever Roxborough Beer Festival. This sort of thing isn’t Michele’s cup of tea, but it is most definitely definitely welcome in my teapot. Also, I feel a strong sense of duty when it comes to supporting local events like this.
So, we went along, and had an afternoon of great pleasure: plenty of lovely beer, a lesson on beer appreciation, nice music, a few good chats with strangers, and pretzels (with mustard natch). In honesty, I never understood the need for pretzels in a civilised society until today. But with the right amount of pretzel-mustard, liberally applied, they are possibly the best accompaniment to beer next to the classic Cornish Pasty (sadly unavailable on this side of the Atlantic).
Philadelphia is peculiarly privileged in that it has one of the most vibrant beer-snob movements I’ve ever encountered. You can get top-notch Belgian beers here more easily than I could in London, and people are passionate about it.
Weirdly, the “real ale” demographics here are vastly different to those of the UK. I’ve been to many beer festivals over the years, and they are nearly always full of fat people with bald heads and beards – including the women. But this one had young people who were not unattractive! I know! Weird eh ?
That said, Tim and I spent most of the time chatting to a bunch of guys that would not be out of place at the GBBF.
A great afternoon, followed by a great evening involving Michele, the parrots, The Onion movie, and the joyous news of Citi’s collapsed share price!