Campaign for real ale.

The hotels local beer washed down its damn fine fresh venison after passport ID validated my age above twenty-one. And friendly Roger the waiter ~of course~ made Roger wait.

The brew was alright, drinkable but a little heavy and gritty to my taste. One thing it wasn't was light American beer though, and it went well with the meal - even with the strawberry and baby spinich with roast peppers salad.
Strawberry salad. They might have been garnish, but the good old never-say-die british spirit (and american hooch) made sure I ate them all.

The seven-hour extended day pushed my limits to the end - finall collapsing on waking hour twenty-five to a reasonable, if patchy sleep.