Spring Has Sprung

In many ways life as a Darlo fan is a miserable one but there is a positive aspect in that the town has two beer festivals each year. And more often than not they coincide with a home game.

Of the two festivals, the annual Spring Thing is always good fun - free entry and not quite as crowded or noisy as it's autumnal sibling - and this one was no exception.

Colin and I were there for the Saturday session nice and early so that we could nab a table.

As ever, Mr Fletcher had a full complement of panda pop bottles so that he could bottle a few brews to take home with him.

This activity completely flummoxed John Bell who arrived shortly after the festival opened and who had never seen Colin going round with his little funnel.

(left) Colin and his trusty funnel

Due to the inclement weather, we were also going to get a full programme of dance troupes in the hall today - clogs are no good once waterlogged apparently - and first up were Richmond Castle Cloggers. Sounds like they'd be ideal for Darlo's current squad.

Before long Steve, Tony and Brian had joined us and it was all we could do to concentrate on the beer and ignore the dancing just behind us although Tony heard Brian say that he quite enjoyed it!

(right) They're behind you!

We then got the more traditional stick-wielding types who made a right old racket, more or less making conversation impossible (although with Brian that is often a blessing).

One of the unusual dance troupes were the Appalachian Cloggers from Chester-le-Street. After the relatively staid sound of the English tunes, it was nice to hear a bit of the old banjo. According to one of the dancers this US-style does not go down so well with some of the more conservative types in this country.

On a trip to the gents I bumped into Rich Parker who had heard that there was going to be a pitch inspection. Cue frantic calls to see if this was true - Martin Deans confirmed that it was but we would have to wait until 2pm to hear our fate.

(left) Tony shows some nifty footwork to avoid a clattering from the ladies of Wakefield Morris

From a beer perspective the festival was excellent - there was a great choice with a vague Yorkshire/Lancashire theme with a decent balance between light and dark ales.

My particular favourites included: Coastal Foxtrot (complete with Genesis cover for a pumpclip), Mallinsons Rocket Ship, Purple Moose Calon Nam, Roosters Good Cheer and the triple hopped Spring Triple Tipple from Yard of Ale.

For once I steered clear of the porters and stouts - instead I tried most of the ciders and perries with Hecks Yarlington Mill and Swallowfield Yellow Huffcap Perry the pick of the crop.

And of course there were also some brews from the members of the Darlington Traditional Brewing Group - I only got to taste the 4% Hairy Coo from Mithril Ales, the microbrewery recently set up by Pete Fenwick (who originally created what was to become Rivet Catcher, Jarrow's awarding winning beer).

The Hairy Coo was a very nice drop but this and Pete's other beers will only be available in a few local real-ale establishments for the near future so keep your eyes peeled.

The beer list must have been up to scratch (geddit?) as they were quite a few members of the ticker fraternity present including some I'd met in Newcastle last month. Our chum Ken said he had been to three sessions as over half the beers were new ticks for him.

Not surprisingly most of us would have been happy to remain at the festival for the rest of the day but the rain had moved on elsewhere and Martin texted to say that the game was on.

The first of our taxis was on time and ferried some of the gang to the game - the second was late and only arrived a few minutes before kick-off after various phone calls.

(right) Tony and a half of decent dark stuff

This meant of course that we were late. It did cross our mind that this may be an omen but we ignored it. I wish we hadn't.

The first thing I noticed after taking my seat was the re-appearance of Noel Whelan in the squad - we missed his debut at Dagenham earlier in the season - and to be fair I thought he wasn't too bad.

A bit slow - mind he never was that quick - but he seemed to hold the ball well and tried to make intelligent use of it.

Overall though it soon had that deja vu feel of the Torquay game a fortnight earlier and so it proved after 25 mins we fell behind to a decent strike inside the box. Adomah doubled the lead ten minutes later.

Not surprisingly this created some Olympic-class moaning and after a brief discussion, most of our little group decided that if the score remained 2-0 at half-time we were leaving.

Darlo then had three chances to get on the scoresheet but Whelan, Purcell and then Waite all failed to trouble the Barnet keeper.

The whistle blew for the break with precious little action and no further goals so once we got the result of the 50-50 draw, we left.

All except for Colin who remained loyal and stayed until the bitter end whilst we went for some bitter in the Quaker. Word came through that we'd pulled a goal back - or rather Gary Breen had scored an own goal - but as ever, all too little too late.

As the time for my train approached I drank up and wandered up to the station - I almost bumped into Gary Breen in WH Smith - I mentioned his own goal within earshot but he didn't rise to the bait.

Joining back on the train was Howard and his wife Susie - unfortunately we were also joined by a bunch of boorish Reading fans who were far happier than they should have been with a draw at Boro.

(above) Wakefield Morris strut their stuff behind DAFTS chaps

Back in London I'd intended to wait for Liz & her London Miller chums and have a bevvy or two in the Betjeman Arms. However they were delayed at Luton due to a person under the train at Harpenden. I think I'd had my fill for the day anyway...