A change of plan

It’s often said that it’s a woman’s prerogative to change her mind, but truth be told, men are just as capable of a last‑minute rethink. Case in point: my plans for the Bluebell Railway Beer Festival, which takes place this weekend. It was a festival I knew nothing about, until Thursday evening, when I accidentally stumbled across a press release on behalf of the railway. Running across multiple stations, with steam trains linking bars, live music, food stalls, and more than 80–100 ales and ciders, depending on the source, the Bluebell Railway Beer Festival is one of the biggest heritage railway beer events in the country.

In full swing this weekend, 18–20 September 2026, the event sounded like a good idea: heritage trains, good beer, and a railway that now runs right through to East Grinstead, where you can hop straight onto the National Rail network. Getting there seemed straightforward enough, even though it would still involve a couple of bus journeys, but Metrobus 291 runs hourly between Tunbridge Wells and Crawley (via East Grinstead), making the trip perfectly doable. More importantly, it offered the ideal excuse to ride the “new” - relatively speaking — Bluebell Railway extension from East Grinstead all the way down to Horsted Keynes and Sheffield Park, the two stations that formed the original heart of the line.

I don’t need to go into the full history of the Bluebell Railway here, although it’s fair to say I’ve watched its progress with interest for decades. Heritage railways have become numerous over the years, each facing its own hurdles as they’ve worked to reconnect isolated stretches of track to the national network. The Bluebell’s long‑awaited extension to East Grinstead reached its triumphant conclusion on 23rd March 2013, marking the end of one of Britain’s most ambitious heritage railway projects. After decades of fundraising, land purchases, engineering work, and the monumental task of clearing around 80,000 tonnes of domestic waste from the Imberhorne cutting, which the local authority had used as a rubbish tip, the preserved line finally reconnected with the national rail network.

Steam trains rolled into East Grinstead for the first time since the 1950s, crossing the restored Imberhorne Viaduct and arriving at a newly built platform in the old goods yard. The opening day saw packed trains, celebrations, and a sense of achievement shared by volunteers and supporters who had spent nearly 40 years turning the dream of a northern extension into reality. Today, the extension not only completes the Bluebell’s historic route but also makes it one of the most accessible heritage railways in the country—allowing visitors to step off a modern Southern Railway service and straight onto a steam train bound for the Sussex Weald.

I was all set to head to the festival the following day, the plan was made, the route mapped out, and the anticipation building. And then, as sometimes happens, life (and my own mind) decided to intervene. The stumbling block was the beer festival, rather than the railway, especially as it was the latter that I was much more interested in attending. With an entry price of £12, which included a souvenir glass, but then with tokens required for beer purchases, the event was beginning to look more and more like a CAMRA beer festival, without the campaigning aspect. Then there was the cost of travel on the Bluebell Railway’s trains, with an Adult Rover 3^rd Class Ticket, allowing all day travel up and down the line, between East Grinstead and Sheffield Park, costing £30, the event was starting to look like a rather expensive day out.

So, time for a rethink? Looking at this subjectively, I would prefer to visit the railway on a normal weekend, primarily to ride up and down on the trains, and yes, I don’t mind paying 30 quid to do so. Furthermore, if I fancy a beer or two, which I invariably will, then there are pubs at both Sheffield Park and Horsted Keynes, and also at East Grinstead.  I’ve basically gone off the whole concept of beer festivals, CAMRA – run or not, and whilst I appreciate these events have to cover their costs, I object to paying an admission charge, especially when on top of that I have to purchase a souvenir glass that I don’t want, and which sometimes doesn’t include a cash refund for handing the thing in, at the end of the day.

Looking further at admission charges, the best known and most famous beer festival in the world, namely, Munich’s Oktoberfest, doesn’t charge visitors to get in. The same applies to other, similar European events such as Annafest or Fränkisches Bierfest,. I’m sure there are other examples, although in most cases, I’d rather go to a local pub or bar, and help out the local economy, at source.

What did I do instead? Well, watch this space, but before leaving the Bluebell Railway, I’d like to recall a visit I made to a scaled-down beer festival, at the very same venue. Forty years ago, I visited the railway with my friend John, from Maidstone. This is the very same John who I met up with in Lenham, a couple of months ago. We drove over to Horsted Keynes in John’s VW Polo, complete with a tent in the boot, ready for an overnight stay.

After pitching the tent, we introduced ourselves to the organisers, as we’d both volunteered to do a stint behind the bar. I can’t remember much else about the event, apart from it being busy, although despite the rush of people, we still found time to take a train down to Sheffield Park. Arriving back at the adjacent campsite – a field, with the odd, strategically placed, chemical toilet, I’ve no recollection on how we slept, although I imagine the several beers we’d both consumed, must have helped us drift off to sleep.

John had brought a camping stove with him, a two-burner affair sufficient for a kettle, plus a frying pan, so a welcoming morning brew, to help with the start of the day, plus that all important fry-up. Eggs, bacon, sausages and possibly some beans as well, but also some field mushrooms that we harvested the previous afternoon. We thought they were probably field mushrooms, and they certainly looked as though they were, but seeing as neither of us were expert on fungi, we were taking a bit of a gamble.

We ate the mushrooms, along with the rest of the fry-up ingredients, but there was still a very slight nagging doubt in the back of both of our minds which said, “supposing those mushrooms weren’t supposed to be eaten, what would happen next?” We kept an eye on one another for possible symptoms of poisoning, although in those pre-internet days, there wasn’t much information for us to help us, or even to refer to.

On the drive home, we stopped off at the legendary, Dorset Arms at Withyham, for a quick pint of Harvey’s. I remember John phoning me later that evening, just to touchbase and establish that we were both still OK. So, a bit of risk, but fortunately no harm done. I don’t think I’d take such a chance today, despite all the online advice relating to which mushrooms are safe to eat, but thinking about the Bluebell Railway, brought back memories of our little escapade.

I’m fairly certain that our 1985 visit, was the last time I attended the Bluebell Railway, although it’s possible that Eileen and I took young master Matthew there, during his primary school days. Whatever the case, I’m looking forward to a return visit, without the unnecessary distraction of a beer festival, and the chance of a return journey, by train, along the line, between East Grinstead and Sheffield Park.