When CAMRA was founded in 1971 things were simple. Keg beer was bad, cask beer was good. Big breweries were bad, small breweries were good – and the relief that the family brewers had survived was palpable. It was easy to understand and CAMRA was able to capitalise on strong, consistent messaging.

Much has changed since then. It’s a positive change in the main. We’ve got more breweries and more beers. That’s great news for the drinker. The choice of beers readily available to us now would be unimaginable in the early 1970s. The whole cask v keg debate doesn’t – or shouldn’t – exist anymore, because there are interesting, flavourful beers available in both categories.

But it strikes me that we’ve never really stopped to reflect on how we categorise breweries. Quite often, the same black-and-white view that was championed 50 years ago is still applied. The reality is far more nuanced and infinitely more interesting. It’s not about which are positive and which are poor. The question is which ones align with your values enough that you’ll happily give them your money.

Let’s face it, you might get the occasional bad pint, for whatever reason, and there may be breweries making beers that don’t suit your taste, but there isn’t a lot of genuinely rubbish beer out there these days. You might not like the global brewers, but you’ve got to hand it to them when it comes to consistency and quality. It’s what they do to maximise profit. Make bland, uninspiring lagers and ales perfectly, in vast quantities.

Big doesn’t necessarily mean boring, though. Some of Britain’s bigger brewers, the ones I think of as national interests, are truly historic – fantastic champions of the industry which can balance tradition with innovation. We see this in Timothy Taylor’s latest release of its cask-only stout or St Austell’s latest Extra Special Tribute, for example.

Further down in terms of production volume, roughly half the size but still national in reach, we have some “newer” breweries with brilliant reputations. I place Thornbridge and Northern Monk around here. A solid core range, a considered tied estate and a real reputation for quality and flavour built up over a decade or two.

All of these specific examples use their tied estates as a route to market, but others have evolved to feel more like a pub company with a brewery – I put Greene King in this category (much, much bigger and foreign-owned, of course) alongside perhaps the family brewer, Everards, which makes reliable beers that are rarely seen beyond its own houses.

We can descend down the size scale to take in regional, local and microbrewers. Size isn’t everything though. At all points, we observe variations in ambition, which impacts on the business plan. Some breweries are continually and unashamedly, growing, like Wye Valley or Ossett/SALT.

Expansion can attract criticism if using tactics from the macro playbook like offering generous savings or other incentives in return for tied lines, which impacts other breweries within the trading area. I can understand that frustration, but from the consumer perspective it feels a little bit like accusing an indie band of selling out when they sign to a major label – they’re only building on the success they’ve earned by putting the resources they’ve accumulated to good use.

Sometimes the very smallest breweries, the ones you assume will be the most eager to expand, are the most content where they are. When I met Colin Trowell from the wonderful Outwoods Brewing Co in Burton-upon-Trent, I asked him if he was thinking about upgrading his 54-litre kit. He was not. Nor should anyone suggest he must!

There are more factors to consider in this complex web of businesses. Who owns the brewery, how widely its output is available, whether it makes the beer itself or contracts out, or the type of ingredients it uses will all impact on our decision to buy its products.

Certainly my thinking is still embryonic when considering how to categorise breweries and whether it might be useful. I apologise if anyone specifically named here takes umbrage at the way I’ve categorised them. But I am not sorry that there are so many shades of grey.

It is the nuance that has made the British beer landscape of today so thoroughly wonderful. All of these different models co-existing speaks to me of an industry full of passion and grit, despite the economic difficulties of our times. It makes me feel optimistic, and I look forward to spending many more happy hours pondering the details down the pub.