This is a post of self pity and loathing. No beer talk, just ranting, raving and rambling.

A month or two ago I saw somewhere online that there was going to be a gathering of like minded people who all enjoyed good beer. Organised by Simon of CAMRGB and a few others, people were going to meet in London (a town I can easily get to) at venues I have wanted to go to for some time.

I was always a little worried because the lead up to Christmas is always a busy time at work but it did look like we would get a window in the job we were doing in Burnley. The window then closed. So while everyone else was meeting and greeting, putting names to faces from the twittersphere, drinking incredible beers in amazing places having what I have since come to understand was a bloody good night out, I was at work.

When you all arrived at the Southampton Arm’s, I was on a building site, screwing bits of wood together. By the time you had gotten to Brewdog, I was having a terrible meal accompanied by a badly poured Guinness. While all those concerned were passing beers around outside The Euston Tap, I was sitting in my hotel room feeling sorry for myself, watching a documentary about the life of Jools Holland. I thought I’d be feeling like this, so I bought myself a beer I’d never had before, to try and get in with the spirit of things. It was crap. So bad, I couldn’t be bothered to write about it. So after that, I went to bed.

The following days and weeks post kept going up on various blogs about how great it was, how good it was to meet people, the brilliant beers etc. Sure. Rub my nose in it why don’t you!

I thought it had all passed and now another meet up has been organised and I have the time off work! Great, except it’s in Birmingham, and transport to Birmingham from where I live is about as practical as trying to row a boat across a desert. No doubt over the next few days people will be posting how brilliant the #twissup in Birmingham was. If I knew how to get there practically, I would.

When history recalls these initial events which I feel are going to be the beginning of great things, let it be known that I wanted to be there, and I did try my hardest to get there. Fate (and a bloke from Burnley who wanted his locker room finished before Christmas) was just against me.