The talking ends

I rise at 8:15. Being a lazy git, I aim to get the first shuttle again. (Also, because I don’t know the way on foot.) Even though it means I’ll miss the start of the first talk.

Boiled eggs and fruit. Again. You may be noticing a pattern.

Martyn wanders in, grabs some fruit and leaves again without noticing me. Must be running late. Either that or I’ve pissed him off. Nah, can’t be that. He was gazing lovingly at my bottle of Rosé de Gambrinus when I trotted off to bed last night.

Martyn is there waiting at the shuttle stop. We ride the familiar way to the museums stop. To an accompaniment of recorded announcements. The warnings not to climb trees nor be inappropriate to the interpreters (the volunteers in 18th-century clothing) are both quirky and creepy.

Lunch is just over the road in Precarious. It’s much emptier – and quieter – than yesterday evening. As I can’t sell books in the museum for contractual reasons, I’m doing it here. I lay my books out on a table. And don’t have to wait long.

Pretty soon I’ve shifted pretty much all of them. I run out of a couple of titles. That went well. Time to eat.

I have pork belly tacos, which are excellent. And 3 Nectar Vector (Double IPA). Which liven me up a treat.

Martyn’s talk is about the long history of air-dried malt and the beers brewed with it. Good stuff, as you would expect.

When the last talk has been given and the final round table is almost at an end, comes the only discordant moment of the whole conference. I wrote “There are no stupid questions.” as a dedication in a book earlier. I’m now proved wrong. When someone who has only just turned up asks an incredibly stupid and self-aggrandising question.

I won’t grace said stupid question the undeserved attention of repetition. Just remark that everyone around me is uttering their dialect’s equivalent of “bollocks”.

Paul and Jamie give me a lift to tonight’s destination, Virginia Beer. 

We’re given a few free beer tokens and dive into the taproom. My eye is immediately drawn to the cask on the bar. Enquiry at the bar, reveals that it’s a cask Brown Ale of 7% ABV. Just the thing for me.

I sit at a table with Craig and Dan Lauro (of Carillon brewing in Dayton). Dan has the beard of the festival. A full Kark Marx. Craig is eating chicken tenders.

“Are they any good?”

“Yes. But a bit spicy.”

“I’m English. I like my food hot. Like my beer.”

I trail outside to the food truck. Soon I’m clutching chicken tenders in my hand. Not literally, obviously. There’s a plastic container between my flesh and the chicken.

The tenders are very nice. Could maybe have done with a bit more chili.

Stan drags me across to meet the brewer. Who pours a Light Mild off the tank. Pretty good, it is, too, with a firm Goldings character. I wonder how well it will sell? Sub-5% beer isn’t hugely popular in the US. Especially if it’s called Mild.

The latecomer who asked the incredibly stupid question is at the next table. Talking to Frank. I quickly shuffle over to the other side of the room when it looks like Frank is going to introduce him. No desire at all to talk to him.

I leave quite late with Paul and Jamie. Paul has trouble finding the entrance to my hotel. We end up around the back but can’t get to the entrance. I just walk the last bit.

In the lobby, there’s another bottle share underway. I’m amazed anyone still has bottles to share. A punch draws my attention.

I don’t say much. Partly, from exhaustion. As Martyn Cornell, Travis Rupp and Marc Meltonville have a mind-melting conversation about beer in the Roman Empire. I just listen. I have nothing sensible to contribute. Not just out of my depth, totally submarine. Marianas Trench.

I head off to bed before my brains start dripping out of my ears.

Tomintin lays a friendly hand on my arm to guide me to slumber.



Precarious Beer Project
110 S Henry St,
Williamsburg,
VA 23185.
http://www.precariousbeer.com/


The Virginia Beer Company
401 2nd St,
Williamsburg,
VA 23185.
https://virginiabeerco.com/