So many firsts in one day – wearing hops in my hair, an £8 pint and attending the Faversham Hop Festival.

We’d let the train take the strain, but so had thousands of others so the first thing we had to do was queue to get out of the station. Fortunately, the trains were running again last Sunday so festivalgoers did at least have a sensible transport option.

One or two travellers were taking their drinking so seriously they’d started supping on the journey and had to leave their glasses inside the station before they were allowed into the town.

At the festival it’s strictly plastic only, which given this is mainly a celebration on the streets, is both safe and sensible.

Having located a large trailer full of fresh green hops we made sure we were correctly adorned and continued along East Street until the road was completely blocked by crowds enjoying a mixed band of Morris men - some sporting mohicans, others dancing with a section of scaffolding pipes. I’m sure they were great, but I hadn’t got my hand on a pint yet, so we left them to it and headed down Market Street and stopped at the colourful Madcat Brewery stall.

I should say at this point, we were a four-strong group for the festival as I was with Mrs SD, the Apprentice and his partner – the order was therefore, a Hoppy Pale, an IPA, a dark bitter and a strawberry and basil cider. I won’t tell you who had what, but the group decided the cider tasted just of cider, the pale ale was okay, the dark bitter likewise and the hoppy pale was the pick of the bunch – they were all priced at £5 a pint.

With ale in hand, I felt better armed to talk to Morris folk and began with a bearded guy in a green dress and a red bodice. His mates, or I assume the rest of his merry band, were lined up on a bench in a variety of different hats. They were very friendly and would have spent ages explaining why they do what they do but fortunately they were due on stage in 10 minutes we wandered on to find a second pint.

This time we discovered a stall manned by a couple of lovely ladies pouring a pair of pints from Tenterden’s McCann Brewery – the choice was a 4.2% dry hopped lager called Racing Tiger or a 5.4% smoked London porter called Black Taxi to the Moon.

The Taxi had a great, slightly burned taste, and if it hadn’t been relatively early in the day I might have gone for it, but in the end we had three pints of the lager and, although it was a bit pricier at £5.50, we all rated it.

All being sensible folk we decided it would now be wise to get a bite before imbibing further and with the incredible number of options available all four of us visited a separate establishment – one went traditional with a sausage and chips, another sampled a great Lebanese offering, a third visited an Indian for an extremely tasty curry and The Apprentice played it safe with his favourite, a sausage roll.

We’d already walked each of the town centre streets and enjoyed an eclectic mix of live music on each of the stages, but walking back up Preston Street we came across the Alexander Centre and popped inside to take a quick look. Very much a part of the festival, the large hall was also hosting some great live music on a well-presented stage.

Back out on the street, my attention was taken by the front of a pub I hadn’t visited previously and I couldn’t help popping in to check it out.

The Old Wine Vaults is a Craft Union boozer and, unfortunately, once inside it was extremely disappointing. Ordinarily, I might have wandered on to find somewhere more interesting but then I heard the live music through the door to the garden so moved outside to take a closer look.

On stage were Henty and English, a more unlikely pairing you couldn’t imagine. A sandal-wearing, long-haired old boy called Kevin with a deep gravelly voice on the guitar and Matthew, a fresh faced 18-year-old violinist who was absolutely brilliant.

I’m sure they’re fairly well known on the local folk scene but they were new to me and, without wishing to be unfair to all the other excellent musicians playing the festival, they were my favourite act. The fact Henty sang a song called Sh*tty White Wine and played right into Mrs SD’s hands had nothing to do with it!

Mind you, it’s a good job we saw them at this stage as my next pint was a 6.% tropical IPA from the Duration Brewing Company in Norfolk which, whilst unbelievably tasty, was far too powerful and I struggled to finish it.

It was served at the Creeker’s Tap in Preston Street. It was another pub I hadn’t visited previously and seemed a great place, but, apart from the overpowering taste, my pint was priced at £8 a pint so there was never going to be a second.

I will spare you from the details of our final few pints but we had several more fun hours enjoying not just the beer but also the excellent hospitality of the Hop Festival. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves and it’s important to say we didn’t see the least bit of trouble all day.

They say you should try everything in life at least once, except for Morris Dancing and… I forget what the second thing is, but I know Morris Dancing was No.1.

However, I’m delighted I’m no longer a Faversham Hop Festival virgin and will definitely be back to enjoy it again next year.

If you want to see some more pictures of the Hop Festival weekend, there’s some cracking images below. They were sent over by Sheps photographer Martin Apps…

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