Ladies who brew...

Where would beer be without women? The earliest brewers in Britain were known as brewsters and ale wives. Until comparatively recently, the magistrates' meetings where licences where doled out to local licensees were known as the Brewsters' Sessions.

There have been some legendary figures in the industry. Julia Hanson, for example, ran a sizeable brewing company in Dudley in the West Midlands. It became part of Wolverhampton & Dudley Breweries, now Marston's, but there are still some pubs that are badged as Hanson's. Not far away, in Netherton, the Olde Swan brew-pub is better known as Ma Pardoe's, after the strict matriarch who ruled it for years.

But for historic reasons, women lost power in the industry. When most brewing was done in the home, it was as natural for women to make beer as it was to bake bread — after all, they were using the same ingredients of grain, yeast and water. But once beer became a business, the men took over and told the women to stay at home.

The wheel is turning. Women once again are taking up positions of strength, running pubs and pub companies as well as making beer. Sara Barton, for example, has led the way in showing that women can make good beer and also have a sound head for business. She calls her brewery — with a nod in the direction of women's historic role — Brewsters and has moved from a five-barrel plant in the Vale of Belvoir in Leicestershire to a 50-barrel site in Grantham.

Along the way she has picked up the Rural Businesswoman of the Year award from Country Living magazine. Her beers include a seasonal range known as Wicked Women and a 5.2% cask ale called Belly Dancer, which may raise a few eyebrows among the women liberationists.

If you thumb through the breweries section of the Good Beer Guide you will find a growing number of small craft breweries run by women, often in partnership with husbands or business associates. I have no doubt that Camra, the Campaign for Real Ale, has encouraged this trend. Not only has the campaign aided the explosion of microbreweries in Britain but it has also proved that women can stand shoulder to shoulder with men in making and selling beer.

This special MA section rightly lists Paula Waters, the first women chairman of Camra, as an influential figure in the industry. But before stepping up to take the chairman's job, Paula organised the Great British Beer Festival (GBBF). Two other women, Alison Bridle and Christine Cryne, have also held that post and I can think of no more daunting task. The thought of being responsible for ordering beer from hundreds of brewers, controlling a staff of often stroppy volunteers and ensuring the entire operation doesn't make a loss and cripple the campaign would give me nightmares for weeks. Paula, Alison and Christine took it all in their stride. Christine remains an important figure. For several years, she has chaired the final round of judging at GBBF for the Champion Beer of Britain awards. I have had the pleasure of judging with her and have seen at first hand that she is fair but firm, a stickler for beer styles and ensuring just results. As is the nature of all competitions, the majority of brewers in the championship will be disappointed and it's vital there are no cock-ups so the losers can cry "foul".

The presence of women at the top of Camra has convinced other women to take up the reins of running craft breweries. Life has also changed for the better where pubs are concerned. There was a time when breweries would not allow women to run pubs and they were given short shrift if their husbands died. I recall a horror story from the 1970s when a pub in Barnet in north London suffered a major fire in which the licensee died. His widow was given a week to vacate the premises.

That wouldn't and couldn't happen now. And attitudes from the licensee's side of the bar have changed dramatically as well. I remember going into a pub in Ealing in London in the 1970s with a girl friend and we ordered two pints of bitter. The landlord said he would give me a pint, but would only serve my companion with "a lady's glass". We didn't wait to discover what that insulting container looked like. At roughly the same time, I went into a pub in Middlesbrough with a woman friend. Conversation ceased as we walked through the door and didn't start again until we downed our drinks and hurriedly left.

Women are now accepted on both sides of the bar. Things have got better — and we shouldn't get too starry eyed about the past. In medieval England there was a brewster and tavern owner called Mother Bunch who was described as "being of great size, great appetite and great age. She was an excellent companion and sociable, she was pleasant and witty, and would tell a tale, let a fart, drink her draught and scratch her arse."

I'm all for women brewing beer, but I think I'd give that pub a miss.