Paul's Beer & Travel Blog

As one chapter draws to a close, a new one will soon be beginning

2026-08-20T20:50:08.349+01:00

It’s been a very strange summer so far, and certainly nothing like the summer I was expecting. To start with 2026 is set to break all records for high temperatures, with five heatwaves so far, and a distinct lack of rain. The heat hasn’t been good for working outside, although the combination of high temperatures and lack of rainfall has meant very little, if anything, is growing in the garden. I’d more or less given up on it anyway, as the ritual of nightly watering was becoming a losing battle.

We’ve had some welcome rain over the past two days, but it’s nowhere near enough to bring the garden back to life, although with a holiday looming in two weeks’ time, the garden will have to look after itself, anyway. Climate considerations aside there’s major life decision looming up on the horizon and it’s one that I’m starting to embrace, and indeed welcome with open arms. I’m almost halfway through my 72^nd year and I’m really starting to feel it, so there’s one area of my life that I really need to let go of. I’m talking here about retirement and abandoning my career as a scientist-safety professional.

I’d been thinking about letting go of my ties with the world of work, and had already taken the first tentative steps of exploring the financial options open to me, once that all important monthly pay cheque stops coming in. Something happened though, along the way to prompt me to speed up the process of letting go, and it wasn’t so much the feeling tired and lacking in energy, but rather a chain of random events that appeared out of the blue, which have been sufficient to persuade me that it’s time to go.

I’m not going to go into too much detail, primarily because it wouldn’t mean much to those unaffected anyway, so without giving too much away there have been a few changes in the structure and set-up of the company I have worked for over the past 20 years that have suddenly changed it from being a nice place to work, to one where the opposite is now the case. People talk about dynamics in society, and on a much more local level, dynamics within the workplace, and a few recent changes that have taken place have completely altered those carefully constructed building blocks, that hold the whole thing together. I’m talking here about the glue, that connects the various strands that make an organisation function in a certain way, and that ultimately make it successful and also a decent place to be employed at.

The changes I’m referring to seem at odds to what I’ve been talking about above, but basically the company is losing two key people who I both respect and admire to the extent that I can call them friends. The crazy thing is that one of them, like me, was navigating the same pension maze necessary to provide that vital income, to see him into retirement, and through the other side. The other person is younger, but no longer wishes to work for a company, where the carefully constructed dynamic, that held a key part of the organisation together, has been shattered.

I'm not particularly looking forward to my return from my holiday, especially as those two key colleagues won't be there, and this is why I’m speeding up the wheels that I’d already set in motion for a tidy and ordered retirement. But onwards and upwards, and with an eye to the future, I've accrued a reasonable “pension pot” over the years, and will be looking at Pension Drawdown, to supplement my State Pension.

This is because despite my early introduction to the world of work, lucrative Final Salary Pension Schemes were being withdrawn, even then, as companies and other organisations just couldn't afford to maintain them. So, that’s where I am, as we head into the final week of August, and is why you find me in a contemplative and reflective mood. On the plus side, it’s raining quite heavily, at the moment, which is further good news following on from some early showers, and long may it continue – at least for a while. As for my impending retirement, I shall keep you informed as to how things are progressing.

Five of Frome's best pubs - or the ones I managed to visit, last weekend!

2026-08-15T20:54:07.514+01:00

Before we start, I promise there is no AI involved in the drafting of this post, just good old-fashioned, hard slog on the keyboard. That is apart from me using the CAMRA pub website, for useful and relevant facts, figures and other relevant information, intended to convey a visual images) of the pubs concerned. I therefore trust that readers will find, what is in effect, a guide to five of Frome’s best, and most interesting pubs. There were others, of course, but my late arrival meant there was a handful of public houses I didn’t get to experience.

Our first port of call, and the source of a much-needed pint was the Three Swans. A 17^thcentury, grade II listed, two bar pub in the centre of Frome, that is both quirky and traditional at the same time. Extensively refurbished between April 2013 and January 2014, the pub has an eccentric, but very comfortable and inviting feel to it. The back door leads out to a secluded courtyard, and there is also a spacious function room upstairs, that is ideal for meetings or small celebrations.

The two regular beers are supplemented by a single guest, which can be sourced from all over the country. The Three Swans is one of the oldest pubs in Frome, small in size but big in character which makes it customers feel right at home. The majority of Pub Forum members on this particular visit, were just making ready to go when Martin and I arrived, but one person happy to stay for another pint was Stafford Paul.

It was especially good to see him again, after what must be a period of over 18 months. The Butcombe Original, one of two cask beers on sale that day, was in fine form, and just the thing after a long, and frustrating train journey!

The next port of call was Just Ales, Frome's first micro pub, but to reach it we first had to navigate the historic and picturesque narrow lane, known as Cheap Street. Characterised by a fast flowing, tiny stream, which flows along a narrow stone gulley known as a “leat”, Cheap Street has certainly retained its historic medieval character. With plenty of independent shops and cafés to choose from, this area of Frome was bustling with people, drawn by the aforementioned shops and businesses.

Unfortunately, the photos I took, don’t really do Cheap Street justice, although with luck they do convey part of the feel of the place. Prior to reaching Just Ales, we passed the relatively small, but attractive George Hotel, a Wadworth establishment, which was the pub I was originally aiming for, had my train not been delayed, earlier, by those pesky sheep.

Opening in March 2018, in what was previously a small café, Just Ales seemed a good place to linger, and enjoy one of the two cask ales on sale at the pub. It also afforded an opportunity of catching up with rest of the party; several of whom I knew from previous “Proper Days Out”. Jon & Tracey, Mick, and Will were amongst this group, but where was Stafford Paul? I do recall him saying earlier that it wasn’t his intention to complete the entire Frome crawl, and in mitigation he had started off on the previous evening, with a stop-over in nearby Bath. He and Martin had gone for the obligatory jug of gravity-served, Bass, at the town’s legendary Star Inn, so whether this put him off his stride remains unknown, but it would have been nice to have spent a bit more time with him.

Instead, I enjoyed a catch-up with Jon, Tracey and Martin, as well as a brief chat with the pub’s landlord. Simply furnished, Just Ales is in the heart of Frome's vibrant St Catherine's district, and with seating for 30+ people, plus Frome Brewing Co. Devil’s Backbone Porter on tap, plus a fruity pale ale (Summer Breeze) from Milestone Brewing, this bright, breezy and vibrant micro-pub was a good place to while away a summer’s afternoon – at least I would have been, if we hadn’t needed to move on!

What followed was another walk up a
steep hill – this time St Catherine’s Hill, a thoroughfare once again furnished with more quirky and eclectic shops. We were heading for the Lamb & Fountain, a stone-built pub close to the top of the hill. The Lamb is a small and friendly unspoilt gem of a pub with fantastic views over the town, from its spacious lounge room, at the rear of the building.

It is a grad e II listed building, on the CAMRA register as "An historic pub interior of regional importance", as evidenced by the passage running to the rear of the building, and the old-fashioned off-sales hatch with a sliding glazed window and a display case above. The door at the front leads to a very small public bar with a Victorian counter, which has a c.1960 Formica top. The bar back shelves are mainly original, and there is an interwar tiled and wood surround fireplace with a gas fire in front. This information comes from CAMRA, rather than AI!

Known locally as "Mothers” and run for over 50 years by Freda Searl, this late 17^th or early 18^th century pub is now run by Freda’s daughter, Sue. Freda made no major changes to the pub during her time at the helm but sadly passed away in November 2021. Sue has followed her mother’s wishes and left the pub just as it was. Our party took over the lounge, leaving the mainly cider-drinking locals, to the rather more basic front room of the pub. As with many Frome pubs, cider is the main tipple of the locals, with London Pride often, but not always, available on hand-pump.

Just a short hop away is the Griffin, an attractive, stone-built pub that was formerly the brewery tap for Milk Street (now Frome) Brewery, which has moved to the outskirts of the town. Up to three Frome ales and guests, as well as a range of craft beers and ciders. The main bar retains some original features such as etched windows and wooden floor. We made ourselves at home in the large room at the front of the pub, as you can see in the attached photo. My tipple of choice was Funky Monkey, a 4.0% Session Bitter, from Frome Brewery.

The Griffin is listed in this year’s CAMRA Good Beer Guide, as is what, for me was the final pub of the day. The Royal Oak was quite a hike from the Griffin on a road that was heading in the wrong direction. By that I mean the pub was on the fringes of Frome, and in the opposite direction to the station. So, despite the hike, and the far longer trudge back to the centre of Frome, I followed the others into the pub and purchased a glass of St Austell Proper Job.

Like the previous pub, the Royal Oak had several drinking areas as well as an outside patio garden, but we gravitated to the large room at the front of the pub. Given the distance back into town, I knocked my beer back quite quickly. I was thirsty, of course, but being unsure of the route back to the station, I decided I’d better get going. First I had ascertain the best way into town. This was to follow the main A362 Broadway Road all the way down into Frome, passing Christchurch and Portway on the way, a distance of just over 1.5 miles.

I called in at a petrol station on the way, to ask if they had a toilet – I was "breaking my neck for a slash", as they say, but whilst there were no toilets there, Rye Bakery & Pizzeria in station approach did, thankfully have “facilities”! They also had some much-needed solid sustenance – I hadn’t eaten since mid-morning at Castle Cary, so I bought a Cornish pasty to eat on the train. Shortly before my train pulled in at the station, several other members of the group turned up. They would be heading off in the opposite direction towards Westbury and Bristol, and I think they were as surprise to see me as I was to see them!

We said our goodbyes, as their train departed ahead of mine, although only by a few minutes. Not long after, the Castle Cary train pulled into the station, and I headed off on the start of my journey back to Kent. There was no livestock on the line this time – although not locally, but according to the indicator board, the train was running 17 minutes behind schedule due to, you’ve guessed it - animals on the line! These West Country farm boys and girls, really need to be more careful with their critters!

A day trip to the Somerset town of Frome

2026-08-13T17:11:11.241+01:00

I mentioned in the previous post, that I was off to Frome, the following weekend. It was for a one-day visit to this pleasant, Somerset town, on a visit that would be the first for me. The trip had been a long time in the planning, involving several changes of dates between inception, and the event actually changing place, but the one constant was we would be visiting a number of pubs in the town that had been carefully chosen by Jon Benger – a beer and pub enthusiast who I first met on a visit to Bath, a couple of years ago.

Jon lives in Frome, with his wife Tracey, who was also on the Bath trip, and from memory, I remember the couple telling me that they met, whilst at university (“uni” as the kids say), in Bath. Sometime in between the then and now, the pair moved the short distance across to Frome, where property prices were more reasonable, and the town wasn’t over-run with tourists. Before launching into the narrative, it’s worth noting that I used AI creativity tool, Copilot, to write some of this post, but the parts I am referring to are mainly a few descriptive sections about Frome, and what it has to offer the casual visitor. See if you can spot these “AI - written” paragraphs, starting off with the introduction.

There's something special about discovering a place that feels both vibrant and timeless, and that's exactly how I felt during my recent trip to Frome in Somerset. Nestled among rolling countryside and historic architecture, Frome is a town that effortlessly blends creativity, heritage, and community spirit. From the moment I arrived, I could see why it has become one of the South West's most talked-about destinations.

I travelled to Frome, by train from my home in Tonbridge, beginning my journey with a train to London Bridge. This was followed by a convenient cross-London transfer using the Thameslink and Elizabeth line services to Paddington Station. The journey showcased the excellent rail connections which now exist, between Kent, London and the Southwest, with the Elizabeth line making the transfer across London easy and efficient.

The rail journey from Paddington was a pleasant one, albeit rather boisterous, as I shared the carriage with a lively group of ladies on their way to enjoy a day out in the West Country. Several bottles of chilled prosecco were cracked open, almost from the moment that the train pulled out of Paddington, on its journey to the south-west. The ladies were bound for Totnes, whereas I would be leaving the train at Castle Cary to catch a connecting service across to Frome.

The train was making good progress, as we headed away from the capital, but unfortunately, we hit a delay sometime after leaving Westbury. I later discovered this was due to a flock of sheep on the line, but the slow, stop-start progress of the train meant we were 30 minutes’ late in arriving at Castle Cary.

The delay meant me missing my connection and facing a wait of an hour and a half for the next train to Frome. Fortunately, there was a pleasant café and “creamery” on the opposite platform, where I enjoyed a sausage bap and a pot of tea. It was a mile or so’s walk into the small town of Castle Cary and with hindsight I perhaps should have made the effort to visit the settlement. According to Google, there are several pubs in the town, that appear worthy of a visit, but after my late breakfast it would have been a rather rushed affair, and as I’ve grown older, I try to avoid rushing, wherever possible. Instead, I enjoyed a pleasant and relaxing interlude at Castle Cary station, which is an attractive looking station, that is well maintained and decorated in a style that evokes the 1920s and 1930s.

Whilst waiting for the connection, I contacted Jon Benger who, as the local resident in charge of our day out, would be able to tell me where to meet up in Frome. Jon suggested phoning for an update, once I’d arrived in the town, which I did, and was kindly met at the station by none other, than Retired Martin – memories here of Alton and Farnham! With the pace of two people gagging for a pint after a two-hour delay, – that was me rather than Martin, we walked towards the centre of Frome. There I found myself being struck by both the character and slight quirkiness of the town, where the narrow-cobbled streets, independent shops, and the well-preserved buildings, constructed mainly from locally quarried stone, create an atmosphere that feels worlds away from the hustle and bustle of larger towns and cities.

One particular highlight is Catherine Hill, a steep and picturesque street lined with quirky boutiques, galleries, and cafés. It's the kind of thoroughfare where every doorway seems to reveal another hidden gem. As well as shops, the town is packed with independent cafés, bars and eateries, each with its own unique charm. What stood out most was the passion local business owners have for their craft. Whether it was a barista explaining their coffee beans or a shop owner sharing the story behind a handmade product, there was a genuine sense of pride throughout the town.

Frome has built a reputation as a creative hub, and it's easy to see why. Art galleries, workshops, and independent retailers are woven into the fabric of the town. Every corner seems to celebrate creativity in one form or another. The town has a welcoming atmosphere that encourages visitors to slow down, explore, and appreciate the details, so much so that I was able to explore its blend of attractive independent shops, historic streets and distinctive character, which make Frome one of Somerset's most interesting and popular towns to visit.

Beyond its creative appeal, Frome is rich in history, and as we wandered through the older parts of town, I couldn't help but admire the centuries-old buildings and fascinating architecture. The town's industrial past is still visible today, providing a glimpse into its evolution over time. The combination of history and modern culture gives Frome a unique identity that's difficult to find elsewhere.

My visit to Frome was a reminder that some of the best travel experiences come from exploring places that aren't necessarily on every tourist itinerary. Its blend of independent spirit, historic charm, and thriving creative community makes it a destination well worth visiting. Whether you're looking for a relaxing day out, a weekend getaway, or simply somewhere new to explore, Frome offers an experience that's both inspiring and memorable.

OK, that’s the tourist plug over, and the end of this post as well, but in the next one you’ll be able to learn more about the five, historic, interesting, and quite quirky pubs that we visited, in what was quite a breathless and whistle-stop tour of Frome.

A few bits and pieces, followed by a pint in the Star

2026-08-10T23:15:01.886+01:00

It's been quite a hectic week at least by my standards, whatever they're measured against these days, where I accomplished quite a lot both on the home front, and the work front. It seems that the never-ending heat wave is exactly what it says, “Never ending,” and last Sunday weather wise was pretty much the same as it is today another, Sunday, and one where the sun is beating down making the heat it's just too intense to do much in the way of outdoor activities. Furthermore, with a lawn that consists of nothing but scorched grass, there is precious little to do on that score, anyway.

The previous Sunday, I had to drive over to Tunbridge Wells's North Farm estate, which although originally an industrial area, is now much more of a trading estate. I picked up a pair of new shorts from George at Asda, before driving along to Screwfix, a store Where I am spending more time that I would wish. I purchased the drill bit I needed for the fencing repairs I’ve been working on, but after finishing my shopping, I decided that a pint was in order – it was a sweltering day, after all!

I took the long way home and made a detour out into the parched looking, Kent countryside, heading out along the invariably busy A21, before turning off towards Matfield. This attractive village has one of the largest village greens I know of in Kent, as well as being one of the most attractive as well.

I was aiming for the Star, at the far end of the green, but on the way, I passed the sadly closed Wheelwrights Arms, an establishment that hasn’t traded for many a long year. Once a particularly good free house, the Wheelwrights seemed to go downhill once Shepherd Neame took control of the place. I’d have to look back to check when exactly it closed, but this former excellent free house is sadly no more, and even the exterior has been altered out of all recognition. The Wheelwrights is now a private residence, having pulled its last pints, a decade or more ago.

Fortunately, the same fate hasn’t befallen the Star, a large, and attractive red-brick property at the other end of the green. I made an abortive visit earlier in the year, when I was unable to find space in the car park, but there were no such problems this time around. With several empty spaces, I was beginning to wonder whether the heat had kept people indoors. If it had their loss was my gain, and after strolling into the pub I was greeted by a handful of people occupying sections of all three rooms, including the designated dining area. I ordered myself a pint of Harvey’s Best, (Tonbridge plus an offering from Gun Brewery, were the other beers available), before making my way outside, to the small and secluded courtyard garden, at the side of the pub. Despite its proximity to the main road, this was a quiet and peaceful area, with sunshine and shade available in equal quantities. In other words, it was the perfect space to sit in and enjoy a pint.

In spite of the high temperatures, the Sussex Best was in good form, and the packet of Piper’s crisps, the perfect accompaniment. I sat there for around 20 minutes, enjoying my pint, whilst indulging in a spot of people watching, before picking up my empty glass and returning it, like a good boy, to the girl behind the bar. I returned to the car, and drove back to sunny Tunny (Tonbridge), after turning off the B2160 at the bottom of Gedges’ Hill, opposite Mascall’s school.

I almost forgot to mention that on my way out of Matfield, I drove past the Poet, which is the village’s other pub. Older readers will probably remember the pub by its original name of Standings Cross. I didn't go in this time, although I've visited the pub on a number of previous occasions. It’s pleasant enough, despite bordering on being more of a gastro establishment, than an actual pub. At least it remains open, and probably doing OK, judging by the number of cars parked outside, as I drove by.

There were more adventures to come over the following weekend, when I took the train down to the West Country, in order to visit the town of Frome. You can read all about that trip, next time, along with details of the “interesting” journey I had, in order to get there.

Wrexham Lager's comeback

2026-08-07T22:01:49.442+01:00

Wrexham Lager’s name and brewery have been revived, and the story is a rather fascinating one. The revival began in 2011, when the Roberts family brought the historic brand back to life after its original brewery closed in 2000 and production ceased entirely in 2002. The historic Wrexham Lager name was rescued, the brewery rebuilt, and production restarted using original recipes. But what about the history of the original Wrexham Lager Brewery, and its pioneering beer?

Wrexham Lager isn’t just a local beer; it’s a piece of British brewing history. It was founded in 1881, by German immigrants Ivan Levinstein and Otto Isler, and was Britain’s first lager brewery. In the beginning, the pair attempted traditional cold‑fermentation techniques, using ice banks, but early batches suffered because temperatures couldn’t be kept low enough. Then a chance partnership with German engineer Robert Graesser, introduced mechanical refrigeration, solving the temperature problem and enabling consistent lager production.

Graesser was a German‑born industrialist living in North Wales in the late 19th century. He owned a chemical works in Acrefair, Denbighshire, and was known for his engineering expertise — particularly mechanical refrigeration, which was cutting‑edge technology at the time. His background made him uniquely positioned to solve the technical problems that plagued early lager brewing in Britain. He was not one of the original founders, but without him, Wrexham Lager would almost certainly have disappeared in the 1880's. Graesser met Levinstein by chance, reportedly on a train from Liverpool, and realised his industrial refrigeration system could fix the problems being experienced by Levinstein and Isler

Graesser’s innovations enabled Wrexham Lager to be brewed properly for the first time and led to Wrexham Lager becoming the first commercially successful lager brewery in Britain. He later took a major share in the company in exchange for the technology and gained full ownership after the original company collapsed in 1886–1892. At the time Wrexham was home to around nineteen breweries, but the Ace of Clubs brand, with its distinctive symbol became the most famous, and was recognised far beyond Wales. The beer was exported across the British Empire and was reportedly the only lager served on the Titanic. There are accounts of Wrexham Lager being consumed by British troops overseas, including during the Siege of Khartoum (1884–85). These stories highlight how the beer travelled with soldiers across imperial postings.

The brand's exports decreased during World War II, leading to its purchase by Ind Coope, and later Carlsberg-Tetley, after a series of convoluted mergers and takeovers. In 2000, the original brewery was closed by Carlsberg – a brewery that definitely doesn’t brew the best beer in the world! Then in 2011, former MP Martyn Jones, once a microbiologist at the brewery, acquired the rights to the brand, for just £1, a sum that shows how little the Danes regarded the heritage of Wrexham Lager. The brand itself was revived by the Roberts family, using a recipe from the Wrexham archives.

Local businessmen Mark and Vaughan Roberts rebuilt the brewery, using older recipes and original ingredients to recreate the classic lager. As part of this exercise, they consulted former Wrexham brewing staff and used archival brewing notes to ensure authenticity. The revival restored a brand with deep cultural ties to Wrexham AFC, local pubs, and Welsh brewing heritage. The revived brewery is located in Bangor-on-Dee, near Wrexham, and not at the original Central Road site, which was demolished and replaced by a retail park. However, the original brewhouse survives as a Grade II listed building.

Wrexham Lager is historically significant because it is:

Britain’s first lager brewery

A pioneering user of mechanical refrigeration

A major Victorian export brand

A cultural symbol of Wrexham and Welsh brewing heritage

A rare example of a historic beer brand successfully revived after total closure.

The other week I picked up a 4-pack of Wrexham Lager cans, at our local branch of Home Bargains. Regrettably, despite all the history, the pedigree and the kudos associated with the relaunched brand, I found the beer lacking in bitterness, and at just 4.0% ABV, the beer was rather weak for my tastes.

However, seeing as the revived brand is based on a recipe that is over half a century old, it might well be that Wrexham Lager 2026 is very much the authentic taste, of the cold-fermented beers that were being brewed in the UK, at the end of the last century, so do give the beer a try and let me know what you think. Finally, whilst AI played a role in the research for this post, the narrative is very much my own!

Looking back on a traditional Fenland brewery, Pt. Two

2026-08-05T22:46:05.489+01:00

You left our party departing the GBG-listed Rose and heading along to Elgoods brewery for the commencement of the tour. Elgood’s brewery overlooks the river Nene and has an imposing Georgian façade. The building started life as a granary and a mill before being converted into a brewery in the late 1700s. The brewery was acquired by the Elgood family in 1878, and the company is still controlled by the same family today. We assembled in the courtyard at the rear of the brewery where we met by our host for the visit, Belinda Elgood, daughter of then chairman, Nigel Elgood.

We we're led to a recently constructed, purpose-built visitor centre, equipped with its own bar and decorated with numerous exhibits connected with the company and it's 120 years of existence. After a brief run through of the history of the brewery, we were conducted around the plant by the Head Brewer, who we met earlier. Amongst objects of particular interest were a cast iron mash tun – most are constructed from wood, and copper, plus a very rare open cooler, known as a “cool ship”.

This in effect is a large, flat, open, copper tray, which creates a large surface area to allow the hot wort to cool as quickly as possible. In the days before modern, “counter-flow” chillers, cool ships were a common feature of Victorian breweries, but despite being a fairly common sight in Belgium (Flanders, in particular), the one at Elgoods, remains as the only example I have witnessed in the UK. It is situated at the very top level of the brewery where a number of vertical wooden slats can be opened, when necessary, allowing the cold easterly winds that have blown straight across the Fens, all the way from Siberia, to cool the wort. Such open coolers were once commonplace, certainly in the days before refrigeration and heat exchangers.

Most breweries have long abandoned this method, owing to the risk of exposing the cooling wort to airborne contamination, but the sight of the wort gushing out of a row of brightly polished copper pipes, and into the cool ship, - a process that also helps aerate the wort, was certainly one well worth seeing. The clouds of steam rising from the surface of the cooling worked completed the picture, and I was left wishing that I’d brought my camera with me. Don’t forget though, this was in the days before mobile phones, and digital cameras! We were then shown the recently installed microbrewery which enabled Elgoods to produce a series of seasonal and one-off, special brews, including low-volume beers, such as Black Dog Mild, Golden Newt, and Pageant. At the end of the tour, we were ushered back to the visitor centre where we were able to try the company’s strong GSB Bitter, their Pageant Ale as well as more Cambridge Bitter.

It was a hot day, so I decided to take my pint outside, and at the far end of the yard were some steps leading down to a large and well laid out garden. It seemed so peaceful and cool there, with plenty of mature trees and shrubs providing some welcome shade. I soon became totally divorced from the fact that I was actually visiting a brewery. The entire garden was an oasis of calm that seemed light years away from the 20^th century, indeed the whole affair was in complete contrast to the bleak and somewhat windswept scene at the front of the brewery. On that hot and sultry July day, the garden seemed just the right place to enjoy a refreshing glass of beer whilst wandering around admiring the plants.

Whilst ambling around the garden, I bumped into someone who turned out to be the head gardener. I explained I was visiting the brewery and asked if he minded me looking around. Seeing that I was interested in plants and gardens, this fine fellow offered to show me around himself, explaining that the garden was originally laid out in Georgian times, as part of the house that was the home, initially of the mill owner, and later the Elgood family. After being neglected for many years, the garden was slowly being restored.

It had taken several years of hard work to get the garden into its present pristine condition, and the ultimate aim was to restore the grounds as closely as possible to their original Georgian layout. He claimed this would involve several more years of hard work, but on the plus side the glass houses had already been restored, as had an ornamental pond. In addition, many of the trees planted a century and a half ago were only now starting to show their full glory, including a spectacular and rare Tulip tree. Also being planted was a series of hedges that would constitute a maze, when fully grown.

As we wandered back towards the house at the rear of the brewery, we were joined by several members of our party who, like me, had wandered out for some fresh air before falling under the garden's spell. Realising that the gardener had other duties to attend to, I thanked him for his time, and for making my brief visit to these gardens, so memorable. Three decades on, the gardens at Elgoods have been restored to something resembling their former glory, I say that because all gardens are, in effect, works in progress. They are open to the public, as certain times of the year, so check on the website for further details, including dates and times.

It was soon time to depart, and we boarded our minibus for the ride back to Kent. Our, driver made a brief stop in Ely, primarily to allow many of us to syphon off the excess beer! We ended up visiting the Prince of Wales, a Ridley's pub, situated just off the M25, at Mountnessing. There we enjoyed a glass or two of Ridley’s PA and ESX. We also partook of a meal, although no record of what we ate exists. The pub made a welcome break in our journey, even if it did mean almost missing the last train back from Maidstone to Tonbridge!

Looking back on a traditional Fenland brewery, Pt. One

2026-08-03T21:50:04.217+01:00

I mentioned in the previous post about unearthing a “treasure trove” of pub and brewery-related material, which I was sure would prove of interest to blog readers - once I’d knocked it into some sort of shape. I added that much these writings was out of date, and thus no longer relevant to a modern audience, but I’m pleased to report that with a bit of tweaking quite a chunk of these ancient “scriptures” can still tell a tale, as well as forming a link back to simpler times. A world without personal computers (desktops or laptops), digital cameras and the most modern contrivance of all the mobile phone.

What I’m about to reveal now is a rather lengthy account of a visit I made to Elgood’s Brewery, a classic, country brewery, deep in the heart of the Cambridgeshire Fens. The trip was one of the best and most memorable brewery visits I've been on, as I’m about to impart. First though, a quick look back at the final sentence in the previous paragraph, because back in the pre-digital world, the taking of spontaneous photos, or indeed of any photos, was quite rare, given the performance around getting one’s snaps developed and printed. Consequently, there aren’t that many photos, or indeed other material to illustrate this post.

I'd noticed a trip to Elgood's at Wisbech, advertised in the CAMRA newspaper, “What's Brewing”. It was organised by Maidstone & mid-Kent CAMRA, a branch that I’d formerly been a member of. This was before I moved to Tonbridge. I was still in touch with one or two members of the branch, so without further ado I booked my place, paid my deposit for the mini-bus and waited for the day of the trip to arrive.

It promised to be a glorious July day, as I set off by train from Tonbridge to Maidstone. The weather, in fact, had been hot for several weeks, and the sun was already beating down as the train rumbled along the picturesque Medway Valley Line between the two towns. The river Medway itself was looking very attractive as it glinted in the early morning sun, and before long my train was pulling into Maidstone. I alighted at the Barracks station and walked across high-level Medway Bridge towards the rendezvous point for the trip outside Maidstone East station. As I crossed the river I was surprised at some of the changes that had taken place since I moved away from the town.

Most of my fellow travellers were already waiting when I arrived at the pickup point, and after a brief wait the that would transport us to Wisbech and back. It turned out I wasn't the only CAMRA member to come from a different branch because on the way we stopped to collect members from various other CAMRA branches. After that we crossed the Thames at Dartford before joining the M25 and M11 motorways, as we headed towards Cambridgeshire.

We stopped for a short break at the Bishop Stortford services, before continuing our journey, arriving in Wisbech with the sun shining out brightly across mile after mile of dead flat Fens. Our hired transport took us into the centre of town and then along the north bank of the river Nene, known locally as the North Brink. This is where Elgoods Brewery is located. This was not my first visit to Wisbech, because I’d stopped off in the town in the spring of 1983, whilst on a journey from Suffolk to Leeds. I’d stopped in Wisbech to have a look at Elgoods brewery – externally, and enjoy a pint of the brewery’s beer, in one of several pubs tied to the brewery. This was the King’s Head, in the town’s Old Market Place. My memories of that trip enabled me to direct our driver to the brewery.

We were deposited just outside Elgoods, but with a couple of hours before commencement of the tour, it was time for some much-needed liquid refreshment. We walked back along the North Brink, where two options presented themselves. First was the Rose, a pleasant free house, whilst a bit further on, was the Red Lion, an Elgoods tied house. Both pubs were listed in the Good Beer Guide, at the time, but I opted for the latter, as after all, we were there to enjoy the products of the local brewery. I made a good choice, and after a long and hot journey up from Kent, that first pint of the Cambridge Bitter hardly touched the sides! Whilst at the pub, we pumped into the Elgoods' Head Brewer, and his assistant who were enjoying a spot of lunch. We introduced ourselves and mentioned that we were due to visit the brewery, later on.

We made our way back towards Elgoods, calling in briefly at the Rose, on the way. We met up there we met up with the other members of our group and found an excellent range of beers on sale. These included Cains F.A. plus the well-hopped, straw-coloured Geoffrey Hudson Bitter, from Oakham Brewery. That definitely was find of the day, as far as I was concerned, but stay tuned, as there’s more to come in the next instalment.

Seven months into the year, then it's all downhil to December?

2026-08-01T21:22:19.563+01:00

So, what should I write about next on the blog? A question I often ask myself at the beginning of the month. The FIFA World Cup has been and gone, and the less said about FIFA, the better, but as the years roll by, it does look increasingly unlikely that I shall witness the national side lift the trophy for only the second time. I’m fortunate to have witnessed England winning the World Cup, sixty years ago, a match I watched, as an 11 year old boy, with my father, on our small, black and white TV, but unlike many of the population, it is a feat that I witnessed with my own eyes. With the world cup finished, it would be interesting to discover how much of a boost the competition has been to the licensed trade overall, and to the nation’s pubs in general.

Moving swiftly on, and whilst there’s always the weather to “entertain” people with, I’m fairly certain that we’ve all had more than enough of what seems like a never ending, heat wave. Not only that, but the climate, or the way that it is constantly changing, is a never-ending topic of conversation for us Brits. Unfortunately, it also seems to define us, so before spending too much time on the subject, I just wanted to share the following snippet with you all.

One would think that the hot weather has been good for trade; a thought I repeated to a couple of fish & chip shop proprietors over the past few weeks. Both told me that excessively warm temperatures are actually bad for trade, especially where it comes to eating, as the heat acts as an appetite suppressant. I’m not sure why, but I’m guessing that it’s something to do with energy that the body has to expend to digest that large portion of chips, or that even bigger deep-fried Moby that seems to overwhelm the plate!

Bailey Towers has a different feel to it, now that not so young Master Matthew has flown the nest, and Mrs PBT’s and I had every good intention of sorting his room out, in order to create some much-needed extra space. However, like many “good intentions” the pair of us haven’t exactly achieved much, as according to my good lady wife, it’s been too hot for that type of work. She is probably right, and in truth it’s too hot for any type of work, especially when it takes place outside. Unfortunately, the garden has taken quite a hit, with many shrubs just about hanging on, and I’m torn between regular watering, or just abandoning them completely, as with drought conditions in place across the south-east, it does seem rather churlish to be using scarce water to keep certain “treasured” plants alive!

As if proof were needed of the shortage of water, this morning much of Tonbridge awoke this morning to find either low pressure, or no pressure in the system, which was due to a burst water main in the north of the town. So, no shower this morning, and no water-related appliances able to run (washing machine or dishwasher). With little going on outside, I’ve been using my spare time to have a good sort out of accumulated paperwork, files, books and even unwanted clothes, as Mrs PBT’s and I gradually down-size. I don’t envisage us moving house, at least not for a while, but with the lad no longer living here, it does seem the ideal opportunity for a good clear-out, or at least it would if the temperatures.

On a positive note, I’ve unearthed a “treasure trove” of pub and brewery-related material which I’m sure will prove of interest to blog readers, once I’ve knocked it all into shape. The majority of this “material” was typed up, by me, several decades ago, and will require a serious review. Much of it is out of date, has been superseded or is no longer relevant, as it’s surprising what can take place over the course of three decades. They say that a 30-year period constitutes a generation, and I suppose it does, but rest assured, I’m not going to allow any nostalgic look backs at the past, to detract from what is happening in the present, particularly when it comes to pubs, breweries and beers, and our mutual enjoyment and appreciation of them all.

All change at Premier Inn, as Beefeater, Brewers Fayre and Table, Table bite the dust

2026-07-31T15:57:09.780+01:00

Brewer’s Fayre, Beefeater, and several other Whitbread restaurant brands are all set to close permanently in early September, with final trading dates confirmed below. The following article gives a breakdown of the reasons behind the closure decision, along with a number of key dates.

Basically, Whitbread is shutting all of its stand-alone restaurant brands as part of a major restructuring affecting around 200 sites. The closures are part of a five-year strategy announced in April to save £250 million and cut around 3,800 jobs across the UK and Ireland.

According to Whitbread, operating separate restaurant brands has become too costly, especially with rising business rates and national insurance.

It wants to focus on becoming a “pure-play hotel business” (whatever that means), where profit margins are higher.

The company plans to replace the restaurant chains with in-house Premier Inn restaurants, which it says are more efficient and popular with guests.

What’s closing — and when

A spokesperson explained, “This plan will transform Whitbread into a higher-margin, higher-returning pure-play hotel business.” The 89-strong Brewers Fayre chain will shut after dinner service on 7^th September, and the group has also confirmed the closure date for all its other restaurant brands. For those interested, the final trading dates for the other brands within the groups are as follows:

Beefeater (106 sites): Closes on 10^th September

Table Table, Bar + Block, Cookhouse + Pub (never heard of the last two) : Closing on 3^rd September

What happens next?

Whitbread will continue expanding Premier Inns, where the current total of 86,600 rooms will increase to a target of 96,000 rooms by 2031.

The restaurant closures are part of this shift toward a hotel‑only model. Premier Inn isn’t just closing the restaurants and leaving empty spaces behind, as Whitbread has a very specific replacement strategy designed to streamline operations, cut costs, and boost hotel performance. Here’s exactly how they plan to replace the aforementioned outlets:

Every closed restaurant becomes an integrated Premier Inn dining space

Whitbread is moving away from stand-alone restaurant brands and replacing them with in‑house Premier Inn restaurants. These are simpler, standardised dining areas directly attached to or inside the hotel.

The idea is to create one unified food offering rather than running multiple separate brands with separate menus, staff structures, and supply chains.

The group is replacing the chains with restaurants inside Premier Inn hotels, which it said was more efficient and highly popular with hotel guests.

A single menu and service model across all sites

Instead of Brewers Fayre doing pub food, Beefeater doing grills, and Bar + Block doing steakhouse menus, Premier Inn will offer:

A single, consistent menu

Breakfast service (their biggest revenue driver)

A simplified lunch/dinner offering

Lower staffing requirements

Lower food waste and easier supply logistics. Uniformity that is a major part of the cost‑saving plan.

Physical conversion of restaurant buildings

Most Brewers Fayre and Beefeater buildings sit next to Premier Inns. So as part of their long-term expansion aims, Whitbread plans to refit interiors to match Premier Inn’s dining style, and remove brand-specific décor and signage.

It is also looking to reduce seating capacity to match hotel demand, and convert unused space into additional hotel rooms where possible.

Staff consolidation

Rather than running two separate teams (hotel + restaurant), Premier Inn will operate with:

A single management structure

Cross-trained staff who can work in both hotel and dining areas. Reduced overall headcount (part of the 3,800 job cuts announced).

Unsurprisingly, this is one of the biggest cost-saving elements.

Why Premier Inn restaurants are more profitable

Whitbread’s own data shows:

Hotel guests overwhelmingly choose on-site dining.

Breakfast is the most profitable meal

Stand-alone restaurants rely heavily on local trade, which varies by region.

Running multiple brands increases overheads, so by switching to one internal brand, Whitbread expects higher margins and more predictable revenue.

Whitbread’s CEO summed up the long-term vision:

“This plan will transform Whitbread into a higher-margin, higher-returning pure-play hotel business.” In other words, they want Premier Inn to be, simpler, cheaper to run, more focused and more profitable. The restaurant closures are a major step toward that transformation.

The whole things makes sense, from a business point of view, and also from a catering point as well, but unfortunately there is a human cost – as there often is from any cost-cutting exercise. Sadly, getting on for 4,000 jobs are likely to go over the course of this exercise.

The other point, which isn’t quite made clear, is will the restaurants sited within Premier Inns be open to customers who aren’t residing there, or will they be for the exclusive use of hotel guests?

From a personal perspective, the Bailey family have used Premier Inns quite a lot over the past few decades, even though Mrs PBT's is much more fan of the chain than I am. For the record, I much prefer an independently run establishment, whilst accepting that there is a slight risk of ending up, somewhere like Fawlty Towers.

It's also worth mentioning that there are good, and bad Premier Inns, as well, and we have come across several of these, over the years. However, being both a pub enthusiast, plus a beer and food lover I'm always going to be in favour, of a family owned hotel, rather than a nationally-owned chain, even though my wife would beg to differ!

Annafest - a nostalgic look back

2026-07-29T21:30:05.843+01:00

Apologies if this post looks somewhat familiar, as this isn't the first time that it's seen the light of day. I'm re-publishing the article, with the odd tweak here and there, because the last week in July is when one of the world's best beer festivals takes place. I'm talking about Annafest; a folk festival, that attracts around 500,000 visitors each year over the course of the 10-day event. Despite its popularity, Annafest is relatively little-known outside the region of northern Bavaria, known as Franconia, and yet, providing the weather holds, there are few better places know of in which to enjoy some excellent locally-brewed beer, in a wooded hillside setting over looking the town of Forchheim.

In the summer of 2013, son Matthew and I enjoyed a week’s holiday in this picturesque town of some 20,000 souls. Forchheim is situated in the valley of the River Regnitz, roughly halfway between Bamberg and Nuremberg, and apart from Annafest, is a town that is well worth visiting at other times of the year, as we did five years later. (Forchheim has four breweries, plus some characterful and atmospheric pubs).

Annafest is quite unlike any beer festival I have ever been to before; but then German beer festivals aren’t the same as those in the UK. For a start they’ve been running a lot longer than home-grown events; sometimes by as much as a couple of hundred years. In addition, whilst British beers festivals are about sampling as many different beers as possible, German beer festivals are about having a good time, with some serious drinking forming an essential component. This is how I would best describe Annafest.

The event takes place at the Kellerwald, a wooded hillside on the edge of Forchheim, where there are a series of natural rock cellars cut into the hillside. These cellars were originally constructed for the storage and maturation of bottom-fermenting beer, in the days before refrigeration was developed. Today there are two dozen such “Kellers”, the majority of which are just open for Annafest, although a handful remain open all year. During the summer evenings the Kellerwald is the perfect location for a cool beer in the shady woods. The event is held over a 10-day period around the 26^th July, which is the feast of St Anna (Anne), the mother of the Virgin Mary.

Although pilgrims had been journeying to a nearby chapel consecrated to St. Anna since the early 16^th Century, Annafest in its present form began in 1840, when the Forchheim shooting club moved its main shooting ground from the “shooting meadow” on the river Regnitz to the Kellerwald. As well as plenty of beer drinking there are other attractions such as fairground rides, various stalls, plus six stages which feature a wide range of different musical acts. The local Forchheim breweries Hebendanz, Greif, Eichhorn and Neder all brew a strong Bock beer especially for this festival, the so-called Annafestbier, and a number of other local breweries also supply brews of their own as well.

With seating for around 30,000 people, the Kellerwald provides sufficient accommodation for the crowds. A regular shuttle bus service is provided from the town and surrounding areas to the Kellerwald and back again, so getting to the festival is not a problem. For those of a more energetic disposition, it is not that far to walk up from the town and many people choose to do this, working up a king-sized thirst on the way!

We attended Annafest on three separate days (Tuesday, Thursday, and Sunday), with breaks in between visits to allow ourselves a bit of a rest. I don’t mean we overindulged, but with one litre (Maß) mugs the only measures the beer was served in, (unless one wanted a wheat beer that is), it can be quite easy to over-indulge, albeit unintentionally! What’s more, the beer on sale was the Annafestbier, which weighs in with an abv of around 5.7%, or more! The day’s in-between did afford a break though from the festivities and allowed us to explore other parts of the area. This was as much a part of our holiday as visiting Annafest itself.

On each occasion we visited three different Kellers, which meant three litres or nearly six pints each over the course of the day. We paced ourselves though and took our time, savouring the tasty, potent beer, served with one notable exception, in tall, ceramic stoneware mugs. For the record we visited the following Kellers: Tuesday - Stäffalakeller (Wolfshöher), Schlöslakeller (Hebendanz) and Loẅenbräukeller (Loẅenbräu – Buttenheim); Thursday – Greiffkeller (Greiff), Eichhornkeller (Eichhorn) and Weiß-Tauben-Keller (Rittmayer-Hallendorf); Sunday – Hoffmannskeller (Monschof-Kulmbach), Nederkeller (Neder) and Nürnberger-Tor-Keller (Wolfshöher).

Of the beers drunk, Hebendanz and Neder (both Forchheim brewers), stood out above the rest, although the beers from the town’s other two breweries, Eichhorn and Greiff were also very palatable. The beer from Kulmbach giant, Monschof, was different from the other local beers in that instead of the darker, Kellerbier common in Franconia; it was a golden, Helles-style beer, served in a glass Maß, rather than the stoneware ones used by virtually all the other breweries.

The beer I was least impressed with was Wolfshöher, a regional concern with expansionist designs, based in the village of the same name, near Neunkirchen. The company has an unduly large presence at the Kellarwald, due to its takeover, and closure of Forchheim’s fifth and largest brewery, Bräuhaus Forchheim. The brewery buildings, standing empty and forlorn, were only a stone’s throw from our rented holiday apartment, but at the time of our visit, there were signs that work was taking place on the site, to convert part of the brewery into residential accommodation.

There was plenty of food available to help soak up all of this beer. Most, if not all Kellers offered various cooked meals, ranging from sausages and potato dumplings to the usual knuckles of pork and roast chickens. There were also various food stalls grouped along the paths between the various Kellers, offering a variety of snacks, both savoury and sweet. This, interspersed with the live music at some of the Kellers, and the fairground attractions at the bottom of the hill, combined to produce a fantastic atmosphere.

We also made a visit to Bamberg as part of the same holiday, and whilst enjoying a few beers in the garden of Café Abseits, got talking to a party of English beer enthusiasts They were also very impressed with Annafest, saying how much better it was than Oktoberfest, and how much cheaper too. Obviously, Oktoberfest is internationally renowned and attracts people from all over the world, whilst Annafest is by nature, much more a locals festival. It is none the worse for that, and we are certainly glad we made the effort to get along to it. and I can thoroughly recommend that you visit.

To sum up, Annafest is very much an event which involves the whole town, plus quite a bit of the surrounding area. On those days when we didn’t attend, we couldn’t help noticing the full trains depositing expectant drinkers at the town’s station, and the crowded buses transporting them up to the Kellerwald. As I said earlier, the festival appeals to all ages, and it was good to see young people enjoying themselves, quaffing the beer and all without any signs of trouble.

Copilot to the rescue

2026-07-25T16:44:34.417+01:00

The sharp eyed amongst you, will almost certainly have noticed a distinct change in style with my most recent post. Some might be thinking this isn’t Paul’s normal style, and others might be wondering why this sudden change? You would of course, be right, and the answer lies with Microsoft Copilot, a generative artificial intelligence chatbot. Now that might not mean a lot to some of you, and it doesn’t mean that much to me either, but after witnessing this, and other AI assistants in certain workplace applications, I thought I’d give it a go myself. My prime reason for doing so, is to save time, and it is because bashing out many of these posts takes a lot of preparation. The process normally involves looking through a series of hastily scribbled notes and then scrolling through the numerous photos taken on my phone.

Or at least it does in the “Grand Day Out – What we did on our holidays”, types of post. Others, take a bit more research, but returning to the format mentioned above, a lot of typing is involved, and despite years of practice, I am still a relatively slow person when it comes to generating a coherent and readable, blog post. This is where I have looked elsewhere for assistance-thinking outside the box, if you like, even though it’s a rather cliched turn of phrase.

The first step was one I took two or three years ago, and that was to purchase a Windows-compatible microphone. These are readily available and compatibly priced, and I have been using this approach for quite some time. However, the technology has its limits, especially when it comes to speech recognition, and whilst some of the text that appears on the screen can be hilarious, other stuff can sometimes appear as pure gibberish. (Obviously it depends on how clearly one speaks, and at what speed, but also when you’re literally talking off the top of your head, whilst thinking on the hoof, it’s perhaps no surprising that what comes out doesn’t equate to what you thought, or indeed hoped, went in).

Now this is where artificial intelligence (AI) technology comes to the rescue. I had, in the recent past, used Microsoft’s Copilot software to both spell check and, where necessary re-write, certain chunks of text. This approach seemed to work well, but it wasn’t until yesterday, when faced with four pages of semi-ineligible text that I thought I’d try AI on a much longer piece of prose (such as a blogpost), that my “Day out in Lenham” article came about.

The software took a bit of getting used to, and involved quite a lot of trial and error, but as this approach is the best way to learn, I pressed on. So, the article dated Friday 24th June that you see on you screen is the result of my first, in-depth association with Copilot. It isn’t the entire article as first dictated, but that is deliberate on my part, as I wanted to see what the bulk of the post would look like, and more importantly read like.

I was pleased with the final result and only needed to make a small number of corrections. I did make a point of removing the sub-headings that Copilot added, as they broke up theft too much, and besides, that’s what I use photos for, but overall, the AI interpretation of my original, recorded text, sums up Friday’s day out in Maidstone and Lenham, perfectly. For the record, and for the sake of completion, here’s how my afternoon ended.

"After leaving the Red Lion, my friend John and I walked back to the bus stop with me before continuing a little further to collect his car. I caught the 510 Stagecoach bus back into Maidstone, and soon after, in the narrow village streets of Harrietsham, we encountered the horrendous traffic jam I referred to earlier. How the bus driver managed to get his vehicle through the inconsiderately parked cars, was beyond me. The situation wasn’t helped either by the odd lorry coming the other way.

The situation obviously delayed our journey back to Maidstone, and by the time we arrived back in the county town, the beer had caught up with me. I needed to pay a visit, as they say, and where nearer and more convenient than the imposing Muggleton Inn, which is the large Wetherspoon's pub in the town centre. I think it was either a bank or insurance company office, in a past existence, but whatever its past it’s a rather grandiose building.

I knew from previous experience that the toilets are upstairs, so I quickly bounded up the two-level ornate staircase, to the welcome relief that came with emptying my bladder. I treated myself to kind of one of the guest ales, in the form of Hop Twister, a 4.5%, pale ale from Salopian Brewery. This citrus flavoured beer didn't really touch the sides, as I was in a bit of a hurry. This was because I wanted to catch the 16:29 train back to Tonbridge, and I was aiming for this service because it's one of the few through trains running between the Medway towns and Tonbridge. Most services involve a change of trains, and platforms at Paddock Wood, but as this one doesn’t, it was worth making the effort to catch it.

Fortunately, I made it to Maidstone West station in sufficient time to board the train and then enjoy the pleasant, scenic ride back down the Medway Valley, and along to Tonbridge, without leaving my seat. I was lucky too with bus connection at Tonbridge, as I only had a 5-minute wait before the 219 bus came along. It dropped me in Pembury Rd, just a short walk from Bailey Towers. It was an excellent day out and a good opportunity to catch up with an old, and much cherished, friend".

A day out in Lenham: trains, pubs, old friends, and changing towns

2026-07-24T23:03:46.752+01:00

There’s something quietly satisfying about meeting an old friend in a familiar corner of Kent. A couple of weeks ago, my friend - now living out on the eastern side of the county - and I arranged one of our semi-regular catch-ups. We settled on Lenham, a village almost perfectly placed between us, and one with just enough pubs to make an afternoon disappear very pleasantly.

I opted for public transport, partly out of habit and partly because, after a few pints later on, the presence of a train toilet is a comforting thought. I could have taken the No. 7 bus from Tonbridge to Maidstone and then transferred to the Stagecoach 510 service, but instead I made a hybrid trip: train from Tonbridge to Maidstone West, then bus onward to Lenham.

Changing at trains at Paddock Wood, transferred me onto the Medway Valley Line - a wonderfully scenic route that winds its way up to Strood, following the river Medway through rolling hills and quiet countryside. It’s one of those lines that reminds you Kent is far more than commuter belt and motorways.

Arriving at Maidstone West, I took a stroll toward the river. The old Broadway Shopping Centre - once a must-have feature of any ambitious town in the 80's and 90's - now stood boarded up, a casualty of changing habits and online retail. Maidstone isn’t rundown, but it has undeniably changed since I lived there forty-odd years ago. The traditional shops have thinned out, replaced by vape stores, Middle Eastern groceries, and cafés. Not seedy, just different. A town with a new accent.

The 510 was late, but once aboard, the reasons became obvious. Roadworks, tight bends, and the usual assortment of cars abandoned seemingly at random in villages like Harrietsham - a place that seems to have no parking restrictions whatsoever. Rural bus drivers deserve medals; ours threaded that vehicle through impossible gaps with admirable calm.

Lenham’s village centre is known simply as "The Square", and it really is one. With time to spare before meeting my friend, I ducked into the Dog & Bear - an impressive white-painted Shepherd Neame coaching inn that still offers accommodation. I remember it from decades ago, when it had two distinct bars: Squirrel’s Saloon bar on the left, and Joyce’s Public bar on the right.

Squirrel, named for his great mutton-chop whiskers, had apparently been responsible for important work on radar installations during the war, and was regarded as something of a "boffin". Joyce, meanwhile, kept the local "lads" in line with effortless authority. There was never any trouble. The modern single-bar layout feels different, but the Master Brew was in good form - better than I’ve had in recent years. Spitfire was also on, but I’ve never been a fan.

Two doors down sits the Red Lion, a 14th-century former Fremlin's pub, now a free house. My friend was already there, sitting in the left-hand bar. We exchanged greetings, he bought the first drink, and I returned the favour, later on. Harvey’s Sussex Best was on tap, and in good form

We spent a couple of hours catching up - life, work, family, the usual threads that weave long friendships together. He’s made a full recovery from a cancer scare a couple of years ago, which added a quiet note of gratitude to the afternoon.

We reminisced about past holidays, including a boating trip with friends, and talked about his writing. His latest book, centred on his uncle Jack’s experiences as a POW on the Burma Railway, seems to be his best yet - full of human interest and extraordinary survival. Jack endured brutal conditions, survived being torpedoed by "friendly fire" from an American submarine, while being transported by the Japanese, and still made it home to live to a ripe old age.

The food looked good, and I went for the steak pie - proper shortcrust top and bottom, generous filling, succulent steak, rich gravy, mash, peas, and more gravy. Absolutely excellent. One of the best pies I’ve had in a long time, and I told the barmaid so.

It was one of those quietly perfect days: a scenic train ride, a nostalgic wander through a changing town, two characterful pubs, good beer, excellent food, and the kind of conversation that only happens with someone you’ve known for decades.

Sometimes the best days out aren’t grand adventures - just a village square, a couple of pints, and an old friend.

Return to the Rock

2026-07-22T22:30:38.482+01:00

Despite three intense heatwaves in rapid succession, it’s been nice and cool at our factory. This is because we’ve spent a small fortune over the years installing air-conditioning throughout the premises. So much so that it’s almost a pleasure calling in at the office – almost, but not quite! I had to call in last Saturday morning though, to oversee an outdoor project, that involved having our car-parking area delineated with some carefully measured and marked out white lines. The task was only possible out of normal working hours, so me and a colleague drew the short straws to go in and supervise the work.

The bonus was I got to go to the pub afterwards, although my colleague, who had a couple of extra jobs to attend to, was unable to join me. (Don’t feel too sorry for him though, as he is a self-employed electrician, engaged on a contract basis). I left the site, shortly after midday and headed for one of my favourite pubs, although given its isolated location, it’s I don’t often go to. This is a shame as the Rock Inn, at Chiddingstone Hoath, is an absolute gem of a pub, which certainly ticks all the right boxes, as far as I am concerned.

Regular readers of this blog will recall me having written about the Rock, an old drover’s inn, which has retained many original features. It is reported as being close to 500 years old and is so named because it is close to one of several rocky outcrops, which are a feature of this remote corner of Kent. Chiddingstone Hoath is a small, isolated settlement, consisting of a few houses, plus the pub, huddled together on a high sandstone plateau, to the south of the River Eden, in an area known as the High Weald.

The Rock’s antiquity is reflected in both the exterior and interior of the building, which has been lovingly cared for over the years, and the recent alterations have only enhanced this. I have known the pub for the best part of 40 years plus, and despite its remote location have tried to visit it whenever possible. So, last Saturday morning I left my colleague supervising the painting of the car-park, jumped in the car, and drove up to the Rock. My route took me down and across the River Eden - little more than a large stream really, and then up past Larkin's Brewery. The road then begins to climb more steeply, through woodland and then up towards the High Weald.

I left the car in the overspill car-park, just across the road from the pub. This additional space is a welcome addition to the Rock, as parking directly opposite the front of the building was often cramped and congested. Given the heat of the midday sun, it was perhaps not surprising that no-one was sitting out in front of the building, as I made my way towards the entrance, and stepped inside.

Barring my way were two enormous hounds, with thick bushy coats. I tried to get them to move aside and allow me to enter, but the dogs were having none of it. Fortunately, their owner, who turned out to be the landlord, moved them. They seemed indifferent, and certainly not bothered about being in the way, but they certainly were a size. I imagine they were sweltering, given their substantial woolly coats, and whilst I have no idea as to what breed they were, these beasts would certainly be sufficient to scare off burglars, or other unwanted intruders.

Once passed these hairy pub guardians, I made my way across to the bar counter, which was straight ahead. One feature of the Rock which has always impressed me, is the bare-brick floor, worn smooth by the passage of time, as well as by numerous feet. The large fireplace, with its equally large wood-burning stove, was of course unlit, in contrast to the winter months when a roaring blaze provides a welcoming warmth to that side of the pub. There is also a smaller, and cosier saloon bar leading off to the right, but that area appeared quite quiet. One fairly welcome addition is the opening up of a passage to the left of the counter, which leads down to the rear entrance, and the pub’s attractive garden, but do, however, hold on to the handrail and watch out for the two, steep, brick steps that lead down towards the garden area.

I was greeted by the friendly girl behind the bar, who asked me what I would like to drink. There were two cask offerings the perennial Larkin’s Traditional, or Off the Hook, a hitherto unknown beer (for me at least), from Lakedown Brewery. Lakedown is set on actor and Rock Legend, Roger Daltrey’s family farm, which is home to a brewery, trout fishing lakes, and also provides the inspiration for the business. Lakedown is very much a family affair and is run by Roger's son Jamie and sons-in-laws Des and Chris.

I originally ordered the Larkin’s, but the barmaid mistakenly started pulling me a pint of Lakedown. She noticed before I did, but realising her mistake, and full of apologies, offered to pour me a pint of Larkin’s instead. I told her not to worry and said I would give Mr Daltrey’s beer a go, instead. It was fine and feeling a bit peckish I asked her what snacks were available. I opted for a nice fat, sausage roll, straight out of the oven, and for a few short moments, the conversation turned to beer. I gathered she was a uni-student, home for the summer holidays, and similar in many ways to the girl working behind the bar last year, when I made a previous lunchtime visit.

I took my beer and sausage roll outside to the garden area at the rear of the pub. A strategically placed awning provided some welcome shade, and as if to rub salt in the wound, I forwarded a photo to my work colleague, just to wind him up. Being a vegan, he probably wasn’t over impressed with the sausage roll, although I’m sure the photo of my pint would have made him thirsty. With body and soul satisfied, I returned my glass to the bar and made tracks for home.

Fortunately, there were no massive dogs to squeeze past, as I left the pub. On the drive back to Tonbridge, I reflected on how lucky we are to live in such an attractive and picturesque part of the country, and of how blessed we are to still have such fantastic pubs. I really love this rugged, isolated, and quite wild looking, corner of West Kent, as it possesses something that really appeals to me.

I enjoyed the lengthy, and picturesque drive down into Penshurst, as the road slowly descends from the high ground, characterised by those rocky crags, down towards the river Medway, at the edge of the village. If you are ever in the area, do stop and take a look at the scenery, and if time allows call in for a pint at the unspoilt Rock, as you will have to travel far to find such a fine example of an historic and totally unspoilt country pub.

The Bean re-opens after major refit

2026-07-16T23:28:31.461+01:00

Exactly a week ago, I was in Tonbridge mid-morning, having left my car at one of the local garages, for a re-gas of the air-conditioning system, of all things. It was Mrs PBT’s idea to address the issue of the failing air-conditioning, even though she is not a regular occupant in the passenger seat, but with a week or more into the third heatwave of the summer, I had to admit that the prospect of yet another journey home from work in a steaming hot car, had definitely lost its appeal.

I agreed with my wife, as she knew I would, and consequently booked the vehicle in at a well-known chain that fits accessories and essentials, such as tyres exhausts, batteries etc. quickly. They also service and re-gas car air conditioning systems.

With the car booked in at 10am, and the work scheduled to take just over an hour, what was there for a poor boy to do? "As sleepy Tonbridge town just ain’t no place for……………" well, you know the rest of Street Fighting Man. Fortunately the solution came quickly in the form of a visit to the Humphrey Bean – Tonbridge’s JDW outlet, which had just reopened after a major refit. The seven-week closure saw the chain pumping £713,000 into a significant refit, which was definitely much more than just a lick of paint.

Stepping inside, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect, and the first, quite subtle change I noticed was the improvement to the front door arrangement, which looks as if it’s designed to cut down on drafts. Not an issue in the summer, of course, but a feature that undoubtedly, will come into its own during the rest of the year. The thing that hasn’t changed, of course, is the overall layout. I don’t know why, but perhaps I was expecting something a little bit more adventurous, to what we got. However, the layout of a lengthy bar along a substantial side of the RH wall, obviously works, so why bother changing it?

The interior scheme embraces deep, dark reds, complemented, of course, by a brand-new, and uniquely patterned Wetherspoon’s carpet. Whilst many people will be aware of Spoon’s policy on carpets for their pubs, not everyone is and so, as stated above, as well a reminder for those who already know, every one of Wetherspoon’s pubs has its own, unique patterned carpet. In terms of layout, there is a comforting mix of the familiar and the modern, especially for regular visitors. To the right of the entrance, the two large booth seating areas, flanked by bookcases have been preserved, although they now boast fresh upholstery. Further inside, the familiar long bar remains in its usual position, but it has been given a much needed update with illuminated pictures of Tonbridge across the front panels. The large firepit area towards the rear also remains intact as a central feature.

Customers can explore a range of displays, including the history of Tonbridge School, the story of local 19th century character Humphrey Bean, the life and work of war poet Sidney Keyes, the literary connections of E.M. Forster, and the intricate craftsmanship behind Tunbridge Ware. One of the most notable enhancements is the installation of a row of comfortable booths along the back right wall. Complete with accessible power sockets, they provide an ideal space for guests looking to work, study, or spend a few productive hours on a laptop.

Outside, the beer garden has been redesigned. The previously tiered section at the far end has been levelled, creating a more practical and versatile outdoor space for visitors to enjoy. The number of plants, plus shrubs has been reduced as well as the space devoted to them – probably good news for hay fever sufferers, and also good for water conservation in the current, near drought conditions. One observation I noted, from another commenter, concerned the toilets, pointing out that little, if anything, had changed in this area.

I didn’t venture inside to try them, despite the well-known diuretic effect of two mugs of coffee, but with outside temperatures already heading towards the 30’s, I had no pressing need to make use of the “facilities”. So, as the old saying goes, “If it isn’t broke, don’t try fixing it”. The only other change I noticed was that the former two banks of hand pulls, one at each end of the bar, have been replaced by a slightly larger, single set of pumps, which seems a far more sensible modification – one that makes a lot more sense for both punters and bar staff, alike.

Before wrapping this post up, it’s worth taking a look back at the lines I wrote describing what I saw, and how I felt on the first time I set foot in the Humphrey Bean. I stated that I was decidedly underwhelmed, even though then, like now I wasn’t sure what to expect. The issue lies with the building itself, and it’s worth remembering that the Bean was formerly Tonbridge’s main Post Office – a crown building, no less. The rear section of the building, was the section that none of the public ever saw, because back in the day, it was also the town's sorting office, and area, with its shed-like appearance is where the bar is situated.

So, given that the architects had a rather mishmash of a building to work with, it’s not surprising that the Bean looks like it does today. It's fair to say the pub is not one of JDW's most imaginative conversions, although the designers made the best of what was there. The smaller and more cosy section at the front, (the area with a ceiling of normal height), is where the Post Office counters were, originally sited. Contrast this with the shed/green house section and you’ll appreciate where I’m coming from.

To be fair, this section is bright and airy, with plenty of tables, and includes a raised area on the left-hand side. This section leads through to a large, attractive and well laid out garden, which looks out across the River Medway to Tonbridge's imposing 13th Century castle. This is without a doubt the Humphrey Bean's best feature. The Humphrey Bean has long been something of a Tonbridge institution, and it is hard to imagine what the town was like before Wetherspoon's came on the scene.

A warm, summer's day in Hastings - Pt. Two

2026-07-10T16:36:26.039+01:00

In the previous post, you left me at the Royal Standard, where I’d just received an update to the itinerary, from the CAMRA group I was travelling with. Consequently, I drank up and made my way towards the Jenny Lind. The pub was only a couple of streets away, which meant I actually arrived at this well-known Hastings establishment in advance of my companions. The group’s arrival, coincided with that of the ambulance crew, who returned our casualty. The paramedics had managed to stem the bleeding, and apart from feeling slightly embarrassed the individual concerned seemed none the worse for wear.

I’d managed to order myself a beer before the CAMRA crew arrived, and whilst the brewery responsible had rather a strange name, there was nothing peculiar about the beer itself. Easy Street, a session IPA, from the Loud Shirt Brewing Co, was a pleasant enough beer, as well as an appropriate tipple for one member of the group, who is known as Mr Shirts on account of the garish Hawaiian attire he likes to wear. There was also time for a swift half of Cast Iron Stout from Gravesend’s Iron Pier Brewery.

This visit marked the first time that I'd set foot in the Jenny Lind, and I liked what I saw. Once known as the Bell, this two-room pub is now named after a famous mid-19th Century Swedish Opera Singer, so it’s quite appropriated that the music inspired theme continues on into modern times. The musical connection has led to the Jenny Lind becoming famous for its regular and well attended musical events. There are two substantial bars, one at the front and one at the rear, both of a similar size, and both comfortably furnished. A set of stairs at the rear, lead to an attractive first floor garden behind the pub and there is also an upstairs function ring.

The trained eye might spot something unusual about the building, because this Georgian-style pub is not all that old, having been partially rebuilt in 1951, after suffering bomb damage, at the height of World War II. Some original woodwork was reused during the restoration, and this can be seen in the rear of the building. The beer connoisseur will find eight hand pumps adorning the bar, seven of which are cask ales, with the eighth reserved for traditional cider. All these points add up to make the Jenny Lind a pub that is definitely worth returning to.

A short distance along the seafront, brought us to the Jolly Fisherman, an establishment with an interesting history. The building dates back to 1769 and was first licensed in 1834. It originally served fishermen and the local community, before closing its doors as a pub in 1959. Amongst other things it became a pie and mash shop, before re-opening as Hastings first micro-pub 57 years later. Closed, all day Monday, and not opening until 4pm weekdays, we’d been advised to get to the pub at 4pm, before it became too busy.

Acting on this advice, we not only managed to get served, but we all managed to get a seat. The pub has an attractively decorated frontage and once stood directly on the quayside. Black-and-white photographs throughout the interior celebrate its long-standing place at the heart of the community, and a quirky mix of furniture creates a warm and welcoming atmosphere, with a wood-burning stove providing a cosy focal point during the winter months.

The pub interior is definitely on the basic side, but the layout is such, that the visitor can’t but help being drawn into conversation. The Jolly Fisherman serves seven craft keg beers, two cask ales, and around a dozen ciders and perries, offering a varied selection for real ale and cider enthusiasts, but as they’re all dispensed from what look like keg taps are supplemented by a large range of canned and bottled beers of both UK and foreign origin. My beer of choice was a glass of Bitter from St Alban's based, The 3 Brewers.

Finally, we move on to the Albion, the penultimate pub on the crawl, although it was the last pub for me. A combination of walking, heat, and probably too much beer led to my decision of calling it quits at this classic, seaside pub, which was once part of Edinburgh brewer, William Younger’s tied estate. I didn’t appreciate this at the time, and it was only whist carrying out a spot of research, upon my return home, that I realised the significance of this.

Formerly the Royal Albion, and first licensed for drinks in 1730, this spacious former hotel has been tastefully refurbished with many improvements including a stage for live music, beautifully designed bar tops, stylish furniture and some traditional hand-written signage. There is a smaller bar which can be shut off as a small function room and a separate larger bar. The pub has kept its traditional ambience because, as mentioned above, it was once a William Younger's house, and one of a number of traditional “Scotch Houses" acquired by the Scottish brewer, during the 1930’s.

Most of these pubs were in the London area, although the majority have been altered out of all recognition, but the Albion, and its ornate, period wood panelling, is one of the handful of survivors, and today forms part of its CAMRA’s National Inventory of historically important pub interiors. The Albion boasts six hand pumps, plus a changing range of traditional ciders, dispensed from poly-pins, kept behind the bar.

I opted the Albion East Sussex Pale, a 4.2% beer from Lakedown Brewing. I'm guessing this offering is a "house" beer, produced exclusively for the pub. The Albion has established a reputation for its award-winning pies and pasties, which are also available from the “Pasty Shack” on the seafront side of the pub. (Ever wish you’d done your research in advance??)

So, with a CAMRA NI listing, and award-winning pasties available next door, the Albion will definitely form part of any future visit to Hastings. As for me, I headed for the station, passing on the way the Seadog, the pub marked down as the final point of call on the day’s itinerary. Described on the pub’s website as “A proper independent pub, the Seadog is a family-run boozer with a touch of Irish charm”. Sounds good, although definitely somewhere for another day!

Brewers.

1066 and all that. A warm, summer's day in Hastings - Pt. One

2026-07-09T15:38:22.047+01:00

At the start of 2026, I made an all too brief visit to the historic, seaside town of Hastings, a settlement situated on the sunny south-east coast of Sussex and famed for a battle that took place 960 years ago. The Battle of Hastings took place between the Anglo-Saxon forces of Harold Godwinson, and the French-speaking invaders, of Duke William of Normandy. Both Harold and William had a claim to the English throne following the death of King Edward the Confessor, who died childless, and without naming a successor. This was a bad move on his part, but “shit happens” as they say, and worse still for the Anglo Saxons, William’s Norman forces won the day.

This bloody event took place seven miles inland from the town that gave the battle its name, although a new town grew up close to the site of William’s victory. Battle is not the most imaginative of names, but given the significance of William’s victory, and Harold’s defeat, it is perhaps an appropriate one. The event changed the face and the language of England, certainly for the next 200 years, when Norman French superseded the Anglo-Saxon, Old English of the conquered, native population, but eventually the two tongues merged into what eventually became the English language we know today.

History lesson over, and today, Hastings today is a thriving borough and historic seaside town, dominating this delightful corner of East Sussex. It later became one of the Cinque Ports, a mediaeval trading guild which as well as controlling the local commerce, was also tasked with providing ships, and crews, for the Crown. In the 19^th century, and following the arrival of the railways, the town became a popular seaside resort, as tourists and visitors flocked to the town, to enjoy its many attractions. Hastings remains a popular seaside resort today, but it is also an important fishing port, with the UK's largest beach-based fishing fleet, bringing in the catch.

Over the years, I’ve got to know Hastings reasonably well, but despite this there’s always something more to discover. It was that relatively short trip, back in early January, that inspired me to make a longer visit, and the chance for that came much sooner than I had anticipated. I'd spotted the Hastings trip advertised on the West Kent CAMRA website and whilst I’m no longer a member of the campaign group, these trips are always kept open for armchair supporters and sympathisers of the organisation.

So, after getting my pass stamped by Mrs PBT's, I headed down to the station in time for the advertised 10:58 train. Whilst a few the party had already boarded the train at Sevenoaks and more would be joining the service at Tunbridge Wells, the majority of the group travelled from Tonbridge, including several people I hadn't seen for some time.

This was all to the good, but what was wasn't quite so positive, was the differing ideas and aspirations held by various party members as to what the day should entail, especially when it came to which areas of the town we ought to visit. Should we play safe and stick to some favourite, tried and tested pubs or ought we perhaps visit a few untried and unfamiliar hostelries? It was during the train ride down to Hastings that these differing thoughts and opinions came to light, with some members wanting to leave the train at nearby St. Leonards on Sea, whilst others wanting to remain on board to the end of the line and disembark at Hastings.

The dilemma was further compounded by the level of fitness of people in the group, because several party members didn’t seem up the St. Leonards option, which involved a steep uphill slog from Warrior Square station, into the Old Town. So, whilst the majority of the group were in favour of the St. Leonards option, there was a small contingent who, due to various age-related conditions, didn't feel up to the walk. Those individuals remained on the train with an agreement to rendezvous with the rest of us, at the Dolphin in Hastings, Old Town. I class myself as reasonably fit, so I left the train at St. Leonards. Although I’ve driven through the area, that was my first time on foot in the town. The plan was to visit the “landmark pub” called the Tower that was reached after a stiff climb up from the station. One enterprising, but not overly fit member found a bus to transport him up from the station, but I was glad of the chance to stretch my legs after sitting on the train for the best part of an hour.

The Tower is described by CAMRA, as one of the last “true free houses”, although I'm uncertain as to what is meant by that statement. Stepping inside we found a spacious and well laid out room, overlooked by a semicircular bar. There was quite a selection of cask ales on tap, with Fuller’s supplying several of them, but my attention was drawn to a refreshing pint of Southern Summit, a 4.0% American Pale Ale from Loch Lomond Brewery. Clear and bright as nature intended, rather than cloudy murk that resembled a milkshake. Our group spread ourselves between several Britannia style tables, (look it up), with some opting for the rarely seen Gales HSB or Dark Star Hophead. There was a friendly and inclusive feel to the Tower, making it a popular choice for both regulars and new visitors like us.

Departing the Tower, we headed a little deeper into St Leonards to a stop where buses run down into Hastings Old Town. We alighted at the seafront, close to our agreed meeting point of the Dolphin, but the rendezvous was compromised somewhat by a member of the other party suffering from a nosebleed that was refusing to stop. I won't go into detail, apart from revealing that the individual concerned was the oldest member of the group. That aside the Dolphin’s landlady and her staff treated this poor chat with compassion and respect, even though they must have got through yards of blue paper towel, in an attempt to stem the flow of blood. Too much detail I know, but full marks to the staff at the Dolphin even though they eventually had to seek medical assistance and call an ambulance.

Annoyingly, the Dolphin wasn't serving food that day - something about the kitchen franchise changing hands, but the pub did serve up a fine pint of Kent Brewery, Quiet American, a US-style, citrus dominated IPA, which on a baking hot day was the perfect thirst quencher. Harvey’s Best, and Longman Best were the other two cask ales, and there might have been one or two more in the other section of the pub. The paramedic team arrived just as we were leaving, so most of us left them with the casualty, to sort things out. I was quire sorry to be leaving the Dolphin, as it really is one of the best pubs in Hastings. It was also the only hostelry on this trip that I visited on my previous trip to the town.

It was here that I somehow became separated from the rest of the group. I knew they were heading for one of the multitude of fish and chip shops along the promenade, but which one? In the rush to depart the Dolphin I was aware that I should have emptied my bladder before leaving, but rather than fight my way back up the steps, and through the pub to the Gents, I headed off across the Stade, past the rows of black, tarred, fisherman's huts, to an area overlooking the beach. This is where some relatively new and well-appointed public toilets are located, something I remembered from my previous visit. As one gets older, knowing the location of such facilities is a wise move, and these ones overlooking the beach were most welcome, and spotlessly clean as well.

But which chippy had my companions adjourned to? I wandered up and down the Stade without spotting them, so in the end I dived into the nearest chip shop and ordered something to eat. I wasn't overly hungry, a feeling that was probably due to the excessive heat, and a fact confirmed by the chip shop proprietor. He claimed, in answer to my question about trade, that the hot weather wasn't good for business. People seem to eat less, he claimed, and I'm sure he was right, but that didn’t stop me buying a takeaway portion of chips, wrapped in a paper cone, sprinkled with salt and drowned in copious volumes of vinegar. They still slipped down a treat, despite my previous comments.

There was still no sign of my companions, so I dived into the nearby Royal Standard, a quaint old fisherman's pub overlooking seafront, and a place I remembered from past visits to Hastings. The Standard belongs to Shepherd Neame, who own quite a few pubs in the town. The pub had a bright and airy feel to it, especially with both doors open due to the warm weather. There was plenty of people sitting outside too, taking in the sea air and topping up their tans at the same time.

Two cask ales were on sale, one the ubiquitous Whitstable Bay Pale, and the second a beer called Creekside. Described as a juicy IPA, the term “juicy” rang a few alarm bells with me, as it implied craft murk, and all that entails so I'm pleased I stuck with the tried and tested Whitstable Bay. Shortly before leaving I received a WhatsApp message from the rest of the group, saying they'd be in the nearby Jenny Lind at around 3:00pm. I set off for this well-known Hastings pub, but with three pubs under my belt, and three more to go, it’s time to take a break, and describe the remaining three, in the next article.

A farewell to a bygone era, and a welcome to a new one

2026-07-06T11:17:18.753+01:00

I’m getting behind with my posts again, although I shan’t bore you with what’s been keeping me from blogging. I’m part way through a write up of last Fridays’ day at the seaside, aka a day out in Hastings with West Kent CAMRA, but with six pubs involved, there’s a fair amount of detail to plod through.

Instead, I want to reflect briefly on the passing at the age of 81, of Humphrey Smith, the owner of Tadcaster-based, Samuel Smith's Old Brewery. A controversial and divisive figure, in many respects, but also someone who steered this staunchly traditional, family business, through the troubled waters of the late 20^th and early 21^st centuries. Those who have been through these times, in my case since the mid 1970’s, will be aware of the many changes that have occurred in the drink’s trade during this period.

Whilst organisations, such as CAMRA, might have welcomed some of these changes, with hindsight the introduction of the 1989 Beer Orders, caused serious damage to the drinks trade. The most damaging aspect of this legislation, however well-intentioned, it might have been, was the removal of the link between pubs and breweries, effectively turning the pub trade on its head. In the minds of many older drinkers, such as me and my contemporaries, the Beer Orders destroyed the pub trade we remember, and replaced it with an increasingly cut-throat, dog-eat-dog race to the bottom.

None of these changes had much effect on Samuel Smith’s, which was established in 1758, in the North Yorkshire town of Tadcaster. It is by far, the smallest of the three breweries based in the town, owning just 200 pubs. It is also an unlimited company, which permits it to maintain financial privacy, as well as allowing the directors to keep a tightly controlled family grip on the business.

Because of its relatively small size Samuel Smiths remained largely unaffected by legislation such as the Beer Orders, but that didn’t mean that when Humphrey took over the business, in the 1980’s, he didn’t bring in any changes. First and foremost, of these, was turning tenants into managers, directly employed by the brewery, a move which enabled the business to dictate the policies it has become well known for.

With regard to these, people tend to remember the more controversial edicts, such as banning television, the use of mobile phones, and also swearing in Samuel Smith pubs, but as the company website states, their outlets remain as "Havens from the digital world", where conversation and interaction with other customers is actively encouraged. Policies that few pub lovers could raise serious objections to (unless one is trying to find the time of that last bus or train home).

What is rather more concerning, is the often-arbitrary way in which quite a few Sam Smith’s pubs have been closed, seemingly on the whim of the brewery’s late owner. An online search will reveal further details, although some sources estimate the number to be just over half of the company’s tied estate of houses. Following Humphrey’s passing, it would be nice to see at least some of these outlets re-opening, especially in locations such as small villages, where communities have been left pub-less.

We shall have to see what happens, but as far as continuation is concerned, the London estate is already being run by Humphrey’s son, Sam. The rules still exist in the capital but apparently are applied far less rigorously. I admit to taking photos in several of Sam’s London pubs, even though I did so discretely, just in case! As others have pointed out, using mobiles for finding out bus and train times, will probably get the OK, but I am in complete agreement that noisy phone conversations, or sharing You Tube videos should remain on the “naughty list” and rightly so.

Commentators, such as Tandleman, whose own excellent review you can read here, have suggested that ad hoc sackings and closures will become a thing of the past, and pubs will be able to attract managers more easily. Furthermore, many of the closed pubs will re-open, and as TM suggests, young Sam will not throw out what makes the company’s pubs different and will definitely be keeping the best bits.

A final, précised piece from York CAMRA, Humphrey was a man with many quirks - but we'd do well not to forget that he presided over a family brewery that produces exceptional real ale and craft keg beers at very affordable prices and an estate of pubs that provide a huge social impact within their communities”.

"He leaves his son Samuel both a legacy on which to build but also a huge challenge in reopening many of their pubs that are currently closed and bringing some of their more arcane operational rules back into the 21st Century!"

For my part, I shall continue visiting the company’s London pubs, whenever I am in the capital, and the same applies to other towns and cities where Sam’s have a pub or two. In the meantime, it’s a question of “watch this space.”

Footnote: If I can stretch my memory back far enough, I might include a short piece about how, I lived just five minutes’ walk away from a long vanished, Sam Smith’s pub in the Lower Kersal area of Salford. This was back in my student days, and I’m pretty certain that the Old Brewery Bitter, dispensed from metered, electric pumps, was brewery-conditioned, “bright beer” rather than cask. I shall need to do some backtracking on this, but I believe the pub was called, the Prince of Wales.

Strange bedfellows, or you never know who you'll meet over dinner

2026-06-30T20:40:19.792+01:00

A recent comment, on Retired Martin’s blog, about sitting next to someone on a plane, whose country is at war, reminded me of a polar opposite experience that occurred on our not so recent, cruise to Norway. Martin mentioned about being seated next to a Ukrainian national, whereas my experience involved a person representing the other side in the appalling conflict that is continuing between two former, East European neighbours.

Mrs PBT’s and I were on our way back from Alta, in the far north of Norway, and it was the second of what turned out to be five days at sea. Our ship was supposed to have called at Narvik, on the return voyage, but due to heavy seas and storm-force winds, our captain had decided to make a dash for home. This sort of made sense from a seafaring point of view, but need to have a strong and stable relationship to be cooped up in a cabin, with your nearest and dearest for the best part of a week.

Fortunately, ours seems to have survived, but on the day in question (see above), I decided to have lunch in the Buckingham Restaurant. This is the posh, formal and slightly upmarket dining room on Ambience, but the good thing is stuffy dress restrictions only apply in the evening, leaving passengers free to dress as they wish (within reason), for both breakfast and lunch.

For some reason Eileen didn’t join me, possibly because the rough seas weren’t agreeing with her, or perhaps not. The exact reason doesn’t matter, but what does is it was getting quite late when I strolled into the restaurant, and seating options seemed restricted. I was asked if I was OK sitting opposite a rather frumpy, and slightly fierce looking woman, so I said yes, without giving much thought to the matter. I didn’t bother with a starter and instead went straight in on the main course. My dinner companion seemed rather reserved and also a little reticent, when it came to chatting, but I eventually managed to break the ice. I had this lady down as German, and a posh Teuton at that, especially as she reminded me of someone who’d participated in a reality TV programme that Mrs PBT’s is quite keen on.

“Four in a Bed” is a series, in which four B&B owners, couples in the main, although not always people in a physical relationship – so mother/father, son/daughter, or business partners, or just friends, compete by staying at each other’s establishments and then score one another on areas such as cleanliness, quality and standard of accommodation plus food. The last question, “Would you stay here again?” is the most telling, and quite often the most controversial, as well. As you can imagine, the luvvy TV producers go out of their way to find couples who are antagonistic, fussy, or living examples of Basil Fawlty and his long-suffering wife, Sybil. It makes for good TV, don’t you know, even though it’s probably a poor example of real-life situations.

One B&B owner who really stood out was, Mrs Tee, a rather eccentric, bossy, and somewhat outspoken German lady, and she was the spitting image of the person sitting opposite me in the Buckingham Restaurant. Imagine my surprise then when, after failing to guess the home country of this quite fierce looking lady, she came clean and confessed that she was Russian. “Is that a problem?” she enquired, “No, of course not”, was my reply, and the truth is that it wasn’t, especially once the conversation really started to flow. I never discovered her name, but she explained that she had been living in the UK for quite some time, after originally arriving in the country, as someone’s "pen-pal".

I probably missed the pen-pal craze by a few years, but as someone who hated writing letters (don’t forget to write and say “thank-you” for that birthday present to Aunty Margaret, or Uncle Donald), putting pen to paper was the last thing that I ever felt like doing. More to the point, what to say. And were these elderly relatives, I felt compelled to write and thank, overflowing with gratitude upon receiving a badly worded, poorly written and monosyllabic piece of boring, schoolboy waffle?

Going back to my Soviet era dinner companion, who definitely fitted the role of an austere Russian autocrat. She’d obviously been permitted to stay in the UK, where she’d raised at least one child, and possibly more. Unfortunately, having started talking, she obviously found it hard to stop. Despite her verbal diarrhoea, she managed to find room for all four courses on the menu. We ended up being the last couple dining in the restaurant, and whilst I could see that the waiting staff were itching to throw us out, and clear the table, their obvious discomfort went completely over my companion’s head.

A couple more points, before concluding, she’d been allowed to remain in Britain after forming a relationship with a UK citizen. She’d had raised at least one child, and despite its obvious faults, she remained fond of the former USSR and its Bolshevik rulers. She explained how the communist party was determined to bring art and culture to the masses, with heavy subsidies allowing the populace at large to enjoy the delights of the Bolshoi Ballet, the theatre and orchestral concerts, showcasing the best that the Soviet regime had to offer. She felt this was something that the west was unable to offer its citizens.

I didn’t want to argue too fiercely against what she was saying, first because I was onboard that cruise ship to enjoy myself, but also because I felt trapped. I also didn’t wish to appear rude, even though the Mrs Tee, from “Four in a Bed” that I was comparing her against, wouldn’t have batted an eyelid, if I had acted in such a manner. Even so, I heaved an enormous sigh of relief, after my “forced” dinner companion, polished of her final course of cheese and biscuits.

The waiting staff were also relieved to see the back of us, even though they were obviously too polite to say so, and I was also wondering what Eileen might be thinking, even though she’s quite used to me disappearing for long periods of time. Despite a further three days at sea, I never set eyes on this Russian Mrs Tee again, although I did make a point of avoiding the main dining room for the rest of the cruise. However, despite the warmongering stance of the current Russian regime, I still managed to find the experience both fascinating and enlightening. It was proof, if needed, of the old adage of never judging a book by its cover.

Wall to wall sunshine at the Greyhound, for the firm's summer party

2026-06-25T21:58:06.765+01:00

The Greyhound at Charcott isn’t the nearest pub to where I work, although it is the second closest. It’s a 10–15-minute stroll away, with a choice of two routes, one of which means keeping one’s wits about oneself due to the way drivers treat a country lane, as a racetrack. That road is known as Camp Hill, and I imagine here that the name refers to a former gypsy encampment, rather than the former grass-track airfield that occupied the flatland between the B 2027 and Camp Hill. Known both before and during the Second World War, as Penshurst Airfield, this rather primitive facility closed a year after the cessation of hostilities, and today its use alternates between arable purposes and sheep grazing.

With the Greyhound a short stroll away from my workplace, and close to the route of my regular lunchtime walks, it’s surprising that I don’t pop in that regularly. Tempting though it is, the reason I don’t often call in, is simply because I find it hard to stay awake, during the afternoon and even a single pint could see me dozing off in front of my computer screen. Wednesday was different though, as the Greyhound was the host venue for the company’s Summer Party. Despite holding an annual Christmas bash, yesterday’s event was the first summer get-together that the firm has arranged during the 20 years I have been employed there.

Apart from a small number of employees, who didn’t wish to attend, the majority of the workforce headed up to the Greyhound at 2pm. I’d caught the train in that morning, as whilst I wasn’t intending to have skinful, I still wanted the chance to enjoy a few pints that afternoon. To say it was hot walking up to the pub, would be an understatement on what has since proved to be the hottest June day on record. (I believe that today, was actually hotter!) Some keen members of staff were already there, having either driven up, or bunked off work early. We’d all been handed a couple of drinks tokens each, although for those not driving like me, or not wishing to return to work after (virtually no-one), the opportunity was there, to buy as many additional drinks as they wished. I ended up with an extra token, given to me by a non-drinking colleague, as did several others.

In view of the warm weather, the Greyhound had laid out an extensive buffet selection of finger food, inside the left-hand part of the pub, although given the glorious summer weather, and the pleasant shady (in parts) garden, virtually all of us chose to take our plates of food outside. As well as our party of 40+ persons, the pub had its own individual customers turning up, both regular and causal. It all made for an excellent and ultra-relaxed afternoon, and from many people’s point of view it provided the perfect opportunity to mingle with people from other departments and different areas of the factory.

Beer wise, there was a choice of three cask ales, with two from local brewer, Larkin’s, plus Best Bitter from Sussex-based, Three Acre Brewery. There was also a hand-pump dispensed, cask cider from Charrington’s (weren’t they once a brewer?). I enjoyed a cool, and well-kept pint of the rarely seen, Larkin’s Pale, plus one of Three Acre Best. For my final pint, I opted for a chilled pint of Hofmeister which, like the other beers, slipped down a treat.

By 4pm, people were slowly starting to slip off, so after reviewing the train times, I decided to beat a retreat of my own. I allowed plenty of time for the walk across the former airfield, and grateful to the cooling breezes that sprung up from time to time. I was grateful also that the train arrived on time, and that the air-conditioning was running. I then had a hot wait for a bus home, as there was no way that I wanted to walk back uphill to Bailey Towers.

So, all in all, an enjoyable and from the company’s point of view, a successful event. There’s not much in the way of photos, as not only have I lost the habit of snapping away wildly with my phone, but I wasn’t sure how my various colleagues would feel at having their visages slapped across my blog. If you want to know more about the smashing little country pub, that is the Greyhound, here are a few links to some previous articles I have written about the place.

Good things to come

2026-06-21T22:52:57.804+01:00

Pub visits have been somewhat curtailed over the past week, for a variety of reasons, most of which have been family related. There’s also been quite a lot of boring, DIY – home improvement projects going on, nothing major, but still time-consuming and not the stuff that people will necessarily want to read about. On the plus side though, there are a number of out of town* events on the horizon, so there is plenty to look forward to. *Out of Tonbridge.

This coming Tuesday, Mrs PBT’s has bought tickets for us to attend a presentation, at the Assembly Hall, Tunbridge Wells. The event relates to the Channel 4 series - the Great Pottery Throwdown, and is hosted by the show’s presenter, Keith Brymer Jones, aided and abetted by his partner Marj Hogarth. Keith is an experienced potter and ceramic designer whilst Marj is an actor and artistic designer. Eileen’s been an avid follower of this series, which is about pottery and all things ceramic. Keith and Marj’s latest, and most ambitious project, is the restoration of Capel Salem, a Grade II listed 19th-century chapel in North Wales. I haven’t watched all of the series, but the project certainly seems a mammoth endeavour, and the presentation itself promises to be an interesting one.

The following afternoon-evening, the company I work for will be holding its Summer Party. The event is a first for the firm, and follows on from a failed attempt last year, that had to be cancelled due to inclement weather. This time around, the event is being hosted by the Greyhound at Charcot, an award-winning pub, approximately 15 minutes’ walk from the factory. Despite the pub’s proximity to the factory, it’s been quite some time since I last set foot in the place. This is because I tend to give lunchtime pub sessions during working hours, a miss these days, not because the company frowns upon the practice, but more for the fact that I feel sleepy enough as it is – without the soporific effect of a couple of pints of beer (or even one). I’m therefore looking forward to seeing how the Greyhound is doing. these days.

In three weeks’, time the British Guild of Beer Writers, will be holding its annual summer get-together, an event that historically took place the night before the opening of CAMRA’S Great British Beer Festival. Sadly, the Campaign’s flagship event has bitten the dust, for reasons I’m sure most of us are familiar with, but the Guild’s party promises to be an interesting one. It’s an easy “do” for me to get to, being hosted by Bermondsey brewer, Ansbach & Hobday at their Arch House Taproom, in Druid Street, close to London Bridge station. I’m therefore looking forward to catching up with those BGBW members whom I still know, and to sampling some interesting beers.

The following week, I’ve a lunchtime appointment with an old friend from Maidstone. Neither of us live in the county town any more, and my pal John now lives in East Kent, close to the town of Hythe. We shall be rendezvousing at the Red Lion, in the large village of Lenham, which lies between Maidstone and Ashford, so the pub is sort of halfway.

John has a collection of vintage military vehicles, and in recent years has been quite heavily involved in publishing. Now after publishing a murder-mystery, plus a 3-volume series on the history of nearby (to where he lives), Lympne Airfield, John has turned his pen to matters closer to home, with a book detailing his uncle’s experiences as a prisoner of the Japanese, during WWII, where he was forced to work on the construction of the infamous Burma Railway – Bridge Over the River Kwai, and all that.

John’s relation survived, otherwise there’d be no tale to tell, but Uncle Jack had the unfortunate ordeal of being onboard a Japanese cargo vessel, that was torpedoed and sunk by an American submarine, in the South China Sea. “Rescued” by another Japanese ship, Jack and his fellow survivors spent the rest of the war, working for their captors in the docks of the port city of Sakata, in northern Honshu.

Finally, the first Friday in July*, should see me joining members from West Kent CAMRA on a day out, at the seaside, in Hastings. I visited this perennial south-east coast resort, at the start of the year, so it will be interesting to see the difference in the town, at the peak of the summer season. I haven’t a clue as to which pubs we’ll be visiting, but I’m content to go with the flow and see where we end up. We’ll be travelling by train, of course, so there’s always the opportunity to stop off somewhere on the way home. That’s probably not the wisest of suggestions, but you never know, as with a belly full of beer, a little bit of spontaneity often seems like a good idea.

*Date corrected, and post amended, thanks to a sharp-eyed reader!

Rusthall - rocky crags, hidden valleys, plus a couple of decent pubs

2026-06-19T21:27:30.088+01:00

Well, it’s good to be back in harness once more, if that’s the right word, but the issues I had in trying to access my Blogger account, were enough to try the patience of a saint. In the end, the problem boiled down to a conflict between my username and my chosen password, where just one digit was incorrect. I’d spotted it, but wasn’t sure how to rectify the problem, and when, after numerous attempts, I eventually managed it, I realised the issue dated back to when I registered my latest Samsung phone – two and a half years ago.

I won’t bore you with the details, but when several devices are inter-linked (Smart Phone, laptop + desktop), it only takes a minor error with one of them, before several others end up being locked out. A cool head, plus, an unwavering conviction that I’d solve the problem paid off in the in the end, but with the whole process being a staggering waste of time, I’m glad that particular nightmare is over now, and I can get on with some more enjoyable, and important things, such as writing this blog.

The first thing to write about is the visit I made, last Sunday, to Rusthall, a large village located approximately two miles to the west of Tunbridge Wells. Hidden among the trees and surrounded by rocky sandstone outcrops, Rusthall is a village with two centres. One centre developed in the 1800s as a summer retreat, around a particularly large and distinctive lump of sandstone, known as the Toad Rock. The other is Lower Green, which is the oldest part Rusthall, dating back to the 8^th century.

Despite its proximity to Tunbridge Wells, Rusthall possesses a feel that seems almost “other worldly”, a sensation that I’d almost forgotten about because whilst I visited Lower Green, towards the start of last year, it must be a decade or more since I visited the “resort” area of the village. On that occasion Mrs PBT’s and I attended a family function at the Toad Rock Retreat, which was the second of the two pubs visited last weekend, (see below).

My journey over to Rusthall was made using the Arriva 281 bus which, even on Sunday, operates a half-hourly service, between the village and High Brooms station. As we arrived in Rusthall, the bus dropped me in the High Street, where I noted a pub that I hadn’t seen before, let alone been in. The Oak Inn appears to have morphed, from a traditional town pub into a cross between a bar and a Chinese takeaway, although according to the CAMRA website, the place is still awaiting a full survey. The Campaign’s “Gateway to Kent Pub Guide,” published 2009, describes the place as “A comfortably furnished, open plan, locals pub”, but times obviously change, so let’s look at Rusthall’s two surviving village pubs instead.

First up is the Red Lion, a former Shepherd Neame and Grade II listed building that can trace its history back to 1415. The pub has served the local community since the days when Lower Green was regarded as a hamlet in its own right, but despite such claims the Red Lion isn’t actually that far from the main A264 road, even when one is on foot. Today, the pub is known for its live music events, and for the quality of its Asian food, with the claim of offering the Best Thai Food in Tunbridge Wells.

I last called in at the Red Lion 18 months’ ago, on a rather chilly January day, which was in complete contrast to Sunday’s visit. Given the fine weather, many customers had chosen to sit outside, which left plenty of space inside. I couldn’t help noticing that the cask range had been slimmed down from two Harvey’s beers, to just the one, which of course was the company’s Best Bitter. Harvey’s Old probably wouldn’t have been the best choice for a summer offering, but I did find the brewery’s Pell’s Pale on sale at the next pub, which was the aforementioned Toad Rock Retreat.

This particular pub took a bit of finding, although those approaching it from the Tunbridge Wells-East Grinstead road, will find things a lot easier. The retreat is best reached by following Harmony Street down off the Rusthall Road, just past the famous Toad Rock formation which gives the pub its name. The pub was seriously damaged by a fire, a dozen or more years ago, and despite being extensively restored, still has that “just built” feel about it.

As mentioned previously, I last visited the Toad Rock Retreat, when it hosted a family engagement party, held for Eileen’s eldest niece, and whilst that particular relationship has since fizzled out, we all enjoyed a good night at this landmark pub. Walking back from the pub, and passed the famous sandstone formations, brought back memories of the time I took a young Matthew Bailey for a spot of low-level rock scrambling. I mentioned this to him, earlier today, when we enjoyed a father and son cooked breakfast, at a local “greasy spoon” establishment, at the rear of Tonbridge station. His memories of the car we had at the time, are more vivid than the rocks themselves, but at least he remembers our little rock-clambering expedition.

Being a hot day, I sat outside on the sunken terrace, between the raised car park and the pub itself. The Harvey's Pell's Pale was on good form and this light and refreshing, pale ale was just the thing for the time of year, and the unusual location. So, if you've had your fill of rock scrambling, as well as exploring this tucked away settlement, that’s within a stone’s throw of Tunbridge Wells, why not round off your visit by calling in at either of these pubs or, perhaps try both of them. They are quite different pubs from one another, but both are places where you can relax in, and enjoy a refreshing pint or three of fine, locally-brewed, ale.

A short test piece to re-establish my connection to Blogger

2026-06-16T21:04:20.427+01:00

This isn’t a new blog post, although it is a sightly re-jigged one, and my prime purpose in publishing it is to check that my numerous attempts to access my Blogger Dashboard have been successful. In effect it’s a test post, based on a Word document I produced last summer, relating to the Beer & Pubs Forum visit to the Hampshire town of Farnham. As it’s a test piece, I make no apologies if some of it looks familiar, but by using this part-written post as a “base”, so to speak, I want to confirm one way or the other, that my numerous attempts to log on to Blogger, have been successful.

I had previously been to Farnham, having passed through en route to Southampton for a cruise. On that occasion, we stayed overnight, and I spent part of the day near Winchester. On this occasion I would be seeing Farnham in a different light, but first before talking about the pubs, I want to continue the travel theme and describe the journey I undertook to get there, from my home in Tonbridge.

I travelled across country using the Tonbridge-Redhill line, before switching onto the North Downs Line at Redhill. This then took me to Guildford, where a further change of trains took me through Farnham and then on to Alton. The Tonbridge-Redhill line acts as a useful diversionary route for London bound trains, when the tracks north of Tonbridge are blocked by engineering works. This probably explains why it was kept open despite the infamous Beeching cuts of the 1960’s and early 70’s, but it wasn’t until 1994 that the line was finally electrified.

Electrification continues as far as Reigate (the next stop after Redhill), but really the whole line should have been electrified, as today this stretch of the North Downs Line is operated by a fleet of noisy and diesel multiple units. Despite the noise, and the rattling of the rolling stock, travelling back along this line brought back fond memories, from three or four years ago. This was when I was walking the North Downs Way between Redhill and Guildford, and where intermediate stations, such as Betchworth, Gomshall and Chilworth, served as useful staging posts. On each occasion it meant a steep climb after leaving the station, before reaching the top of the escarpment, to pick up the trail. Happy days, and with much of that stretch of the North Downs covered by beechwoods, pleasant memories as well.

Two steps forward & one step back

2026-06-13T21:07:34.036+01:00

It's a case of two steps forward, and one step back at the moment, but the main thing is I'm moving in the right direction. The good news - the two steps forward, is my desktop has been repaired, and is now back up and running, faster and more efficiently than it was before it gave up the ghost, and crashed. It's a while ago now, but looking back that incident occurred around Easter time, and was the result of a regular Windows update that failed to install. I could still use the machine, but I wasn't able to get online - something to do with two critical "drivers" that had failed. I left it for a while, and switched to using the neat, little laptop PC, that I originally purchased to take on holiday with me. That didn't work particularly well, due to difficulties of connecting to the internet, whilst at sea, although I did use the device for typing up articles in Notepad - a rather basic, but quite handy word-processing app. I'm using it at the moment, but that's for later.

I asked a work colleague, who's a lot more tech-savvy than me, to spec me up a new desktop, a powerful one, with plenty of RAM, don't ask me what that does, although it's something to do with processing speed - and you thought it was just down to the chips! Curry's were offering a machine, that matched my colleague's spec for £540 +, but he did say to me, why not look at seeing whether my current Lenovo desktop could be repaired. And that is what I did, after taking it to the computer repair shop, in Tonbridge High Street. The tech-savvy owner, quickly diagnosed the problem, and basically it was due to the aforementioned RAM, and there not being sufficient disc space to allow memory-hungry, Windows 11 to run smoothly. The system basically got its knickers in a twist, and crashed. His solution was to install a "spare", SATA (solid state) drive, that would take care of Windows, whilst allowing the PC to access all the rest of the stuff I'd built up over several years - Word files, music files, plus of course, hundreds of photos!

The cost of this fix, came in at slightly over half that of a new machine, but the good news was I wouldn't lose any of the aforementioned documents and photos. I gave him the go-ahead, and picked up my repaired and fully functioning desk-top on Thursday afternoon, and I am still finding my way around the beast. There have been quite a few programmes, plus other software that I needed to re-install, and so far it all went smoothly, despite the inevitable password changes, but with one notable exception. This fly in the ointment is I have so far been unable to access my Blogger Dashboard. This programme acts as the interface between myself and Google's hosting platform - Blogger. I can access the finished pages, and can even post comments, but so far, Blogger has stubbornly refused me access to the software that allows me to create new posts, on my own blog!

I'm fairly certain it's a password issue (user name, most likely) that is not letting me in, and so for the time being, I have reverted to the laptop for those occasions when I want to add copy (text and photos), in order to create new posts. This is the one step back, but rather than waste even more time with usernames and passwords, (for a lay person like me, even attempting to sort out IT problems, are not only a tremendous waste of time, but are also extremely frustrating), I shall carry on with this neat, little, lap top until the issue is resolved. (The laptop is quite nice, atm, because I can sit outside on the patio, tapping away at the keyboard, whilst enjoying the fresh air and warm sunshine, of a typical English summer).

News wise, us three Baileys attended an extended family wedding last Saturday, although the least said about that, the better. What was good, was the venue itself, a restored, medieval barn, situated in the tucked away village of Stansted, high up on the North Downs above Wrotham. Not to be confused with its Essex namesake, Kentish Stansted does not have an airport, and neither does it have a pub, at the moment, because it's the same old story about the owner, running the place into the ground, in order to redevelop the site, for housing. The villagers are not impressed, and neither is the local council, so watch this space.

That's about it, for the time being. The house/offspring's bedroom clearance, is progressing slowly, and the recent damp weather has softened up the ground, allowing me to carry out some much needed weeding. "Just let everything grow naturally", says Mrs PBT's, little realising that it only takes a couple of seasons before unwanted plants (weeds), such as bracken and brambles, start taking over the garden. Incidentally, the latter is the one thing that would persuade me to sell up and buy something smaller, as a space where youngsters can play, and run about safely, is all well and good, when they're growing up, but it eventually becomes a tedious chore. More serious is when it's a task that keeps me from the pub, then it's time to ask "Do we really need all that extra space?"

Exploring the pubs of Samuel Palmer's "Valley of Vision"

2026-06-12T11:40:52.139+01:00

I'm going to Shoreham for the day this Saturday, I told Mrs PBT's, little thinking that my good lady wife was thinking that I meant the seaside town of Shoreham, in West Sussex. I quickly put her right, and explained that I was off to the much smaller and much less well-known Kentish settlement of Shoreham, a delightful village in the idyllic setting of the Darent Valley, which runs in a northerly direction, through the chalk hills of the North Downs, from just north of Sevenoaks to the Dartford Creek Barrier, the point at which the Darent flows into the River Thames. The reason for my visit was a short ramble, along the Darent Valley, towards Shoreham in the company of members of West Kent CAMRA, naturally taking in a few local pubs along the way. The journey, by rail, from Tonbridge involves a change of train at Sevenoaks , and then a short ride up the valley towards Shoreham. There was a dozen or so of us who left the train, except it was the larger settlement of Otford, where we alighted, rather than the next stop of Shoreham.

The idea was to walk from Otford, along a short stretch of the Darent Valley Way, to Shoreham, where we would be meeting up with those members who had decided not to walk. Leaving the train at Otford, meant the chance of calling in at one of two local pubs in the village, and the pub chosen was the Bull, a former coaching inn in the heart of Otford, and the largest pub in the village. Ten years or so ago, the Bull belonged to Scottish & Newcastle, remember them? but the pub is now part of the Whiting & Hamond group, a small, independent chain, based in West Kent, with an estate that also includes, the Little Brown Jug, at Chiddingstone Causeway.

The latter is the small village where my current employer is based, and the Jug, as it's known locally, is just a short 5 minutes walk away from my workplace. Pubs within the group are quite heavily accented towards the food trade, although they normally manage to sustain a healthy wet trade. Quite sensibly, the pubs restrict their cask range to just two or three beers, and these tend to include local favourites, such as Larkin's, or beers from further afield, such as Gun Brewery. Both establishments fit the image of a welcoming country pub blending classic charm, modern food, plus friendly service all enjoyed in a cosy interior, offering a relaxed atmosphere that is perfect for any occasion.

It was time to move on, so after crossing the road opposite the Bull, we skirted the village cricket pitch, before heading into woodland which provided a much welcome chance to escape from the rather oppressive heat. As mentioned earlier, the path followed roughly the route of the Darent Valley Way, although for the pedantic amongst us, the official path is slightly lower down in the valley.

To cut a long story short, we entered Shoreham close to the vineyards, that overlook the easterly slopes of the Downs, before skirting the edge of the village itself. The plan was to enter Shoreham from the north, stop off at the Crown, which is the furthermost pub in the village, and then work our way back towards the station, stopping off at the King's Arms, before finishing at the Samuel Palmer. From there it would be a short, but steep walk back up the lane, towards Shoreham station, and the train home.

Shoreham is unbelievably picturesque, so I was appalled to learn from local CAMRA Branch Chairman, Tony, whom I was walking with, that this picturesque gem, surrounded by some equally beautiful countryside, nearly disappeared beneath the concrete and tarmac of the London Orbital Motorway. The original planned route of the M25 was designed to cut directly through the Darent Valley and straight through Shoreham village, with the planners intending for the motorway to pass right through the landscape made famous by the 19th-century artist Samuel Palmer.

The route change was forced by a massive public outcry, because the proposed motorway would have carved right through the heart of Palmer’s "Earthly Paradise" and spoiled for ever, Shoreham village and its picturesque river valley. Such a horror story, would be unimaginable today, but in Thatcher's Britain, environmental and aesthetic concerns were quite low down on the list of priorities.

Fortunately, the strong protest mounted by environmental and local campaigners succeeded in forcing a change of heart, which led to the authorities diverting the motorway north of the village, and pushing the road roughly a mile to the west of Shoreham. I do vaguely remember the "lucky escape" that Shoreham and the Darent Valley had, from the hands of the planners, but the story serves as a reminder of the need for constant vigilance against the worst excesses of those who would concrete over some of the country's most beautiful locations, in order to make a quick buck.

We arrived, quite suddenly at the northern end of Shoreham, after crossing the Darent by a narrow, wooden footbridge. A short distance in front of us was the second pub of the day, and the first of the village's three remaining pubs. The Crown of Shoreham, as the pub calls itself, is a cornerstone of village life, offering a friendly retreat where locals and visitors connect over great food and drinks in a cosy, inclusive setting. This multi-room pub, spread across two different levels, was busy with walkers - like ourselves, but was also holding a barbecue out in the rear garden.

Thinking, correctly as it happened, that something from the barbecue would be quicker than a full-blown meal from the main kitchen, I ordered a pulled-pork burger, which arrived promptly and filled the appropriate gap in my hunger. There were two cask beers - Dark Star Hophead, plus Young's Ordinary. I opted for the former, as am not a fan of the resurrected Young's beers, which taste nothing like the classic, Wandsworth brews I remember with fondness from three decades or so, ago.

After people had finished their lunch and/or their beer, we headed off, passing on the way the sadly closed Two Brewers in the High Street. This establishment transitioned from a traditional pub, to a food-led restaurant in 2019, before closing its doors permanently in August 2020. You can still see its old name boldly incised on the front wall. The demise of the Two Brewers, reduced the number of pubs in the village down to three, from a highwater point of five, within living memory. The previous closure was that of the Royal Oak, which also in the High Street. The Oak shut up shop in the late 1990's, although I'm not sure that I ever visited that particular hostelry.

We were making for the third pub on our itinerary, the Kings Arms, an attractive, weather boarded pub, close to one of the bridges over the Darent. This is the Shoreham pub that I remember best, but unfortunately, some football match or other, was taking place that afternoon, and with the pub showing it live on TV, the place was packed, both inside and out. I was bringing up the rear, so was more than a little surprised at finding the lead walkers in our party leaving the pub, just as us stragglers, arrived.

They reported that it had been difficult to get served, despite a preponderance of bar staff, most of whom appeared to be "just hanging around". This was a shame as I would have liked to, at least, have had a quick pint there, but there's always another time. Instead, I followed the rest of the group along the relatively short distance to the final pub on the itinerary.

This was the Samuel Palmer, at the southern edge of the village, and just a short stroll down from Shoreham station. After closing in 2020, "Ye Olde George Inn" reopened as the "Samuel Palmer", in April 2022. The pub is named after Samuel Palmer, a 19th Century landscape painter who lived in Shoreham - and the pub is decorated with prints of his work. It is now owned by the nearby, Mount Vineyard, and a substantial amount of money has been spent renewing this historic old inn, but without ruining its essential character. A new courtyard/terrace area has been opened up, at the rear of the building, although as we discovered the majority of the pub's patrons seem to prefer sitting out at the front of the pub.

I visited the Samuel Palmer, a couple of years ago, and wrote about it here, and then, as now I'm pleased to report that the Samuel Palmer remains very much a pub to drop into to for a beer or two, selected from a range of mainly locally-brewed, cask ales. I opted for the Larkin's Traditional and can confirm that it was on top form. The pub was certainly buzzing that Saturday, with lots of customers sitting outside, enjoying the early summer sunshine. This allowed our group to grab a couple of tables inside. The service was quick and professional, so I don't know what went wrong at the Kings Arms, but the pub's loss was the Samuel Palmer's gain.

It was a 20 minute, uphill walk, to Shoreham station, but I allowed plenty of time because with an hourly service (unusual for a Saturday - and possibly due to engineering works, elsewhere) I didn't want to miss the train. For those wishing to duplicate all, or just part of this day out in Shoreham, or at other locations within the Darent Valley, Thameslink operate a half-hourly service from London Victoria, with additional trains during peak hours, from London Blackfriars. For those travelling from Tunbridge Wells, Tonbridge, or the Kent Coast, it will be necessary to change at Sevenoaks. Whatever your means of getting there, do go and explore Palmer's "Valley of Vision", and as you enjoy a pint or two, in one of Shoreham's surviving three pubs, give thanks that this peaceful and beautiful corner of Kent, escaped being buried under a tide of concrete and tarmac.

Station House pulls a Crafty pint of Pride - and yes, it was drinking well

2026-06-07T22:51:26.486+01:00

I mentioned, in the previous post that in my quest to track down a drop of cask Doom Bar, the beer that was the subject matter of the article, I had called in at the one Tonbridge pub where I thought I'd be guaranteed of finding a pint of this once legendary Cornish brew. The pub in question was the Station House, a pub that in its heyday, had been known as the South Eastern, the name coming from the pre-grouping name of the railway company that constructed the original line from the capital, and down to Tonbridge and beyond.

Given the pub's proximity to the town's station, it was no surprise for it to have been given a railway themed name. When I first moved to Tonbridge, initially for work, but later as a place to live, the South Eastern was a bustling and busy, multi-roomed town boozer, owned and operated by Whitbread Fremlin's. In those pre-"Beer Orders" days, that company owned the majority of pubs in the area, followed in terms of number of pubs, by Courage, Ind Coope & Charrington's.

The South Eastern was an obvious favourite for train crew and other rail workers, clocking off at the end of a shift. However, given changing practices and cultures within the rail industry, the pub witnessed a drop off in demand from that sector of the working community. Some time in the nineties', the multi-roomed interior of the South Eastern, was knocked through into one, creating in the process a much more uniform and utilitarian interior, at the expense of losing a great deal of the pub's character. It was around this this time that the change of name to the Station House, occurred. It's a pub I'd largely forgotten about, even though for as while, it was one of three local pubs managed by legendary Irish landlord, Colm Powell.

Fast forward to the 21st century, and the re-vamped Station House is now a Craft Union House. Now I don't know a lot about this company, but Google (NOT AI!!), tells me that "Craft Union operate over 650 community pubs right at the heart of High Streets and neighbourhoods across the country. We believe the pub should be the beating heart of its community – a place where strangers become locals, and locals feel right at home". Now you know, and so do I, and from the moment I stepped inside the Station House, I could tell that the company have got it right. I should have known as the evidence was already there, because a couple of month's ago, the pub's exterior was obscured by scaffolding, allowing the rendering to be painted in a contrasting colour scheme of cream and pale blue.

The other thing that surprised me was how much space there is inside the pub, and how far back the interior extends. Of course, back in the pub's 1980's heyday, when it was a multi-room establishment, the amount of space would not have been so obvious, but it has to be said that the pub's new owners, have made sensible use of the extensive interior. The bar, is situated along the right hand wall, so is not immediately obvious on entering the pub.

There are a number of alcoves with a mixture of bench seating and stools, and these help divide up the interior, and help add a sense of intimacy. The pub seemed busy for a Thursday lunchtime, and I couldn't help wondering whether the current, six week closure of the Humphrey Bean - Tonbridge's JDW outlet, was providing the Station House with a welcome influx of new customers. The Bean is undergoing a major refit, that whilst probably overdue, is happening at a strange time, given the sporting events happening, both globally, and at home.

The one thing I wasn't expecting was the non-availability of Doom Bar, but in its place was London Pride, and yes, before anyone trots out the tired old cliché, yes the Pride certainly was drinking well. It was keenly priced, too, at just over £3 a pint, which was another welcome surprise! There was a friendly barmaid behind the bar, who told me, when asked, that she was from Dublin. Without sounding too patronising, she was an obvious asset to the pub, with just the right amount of welcoming cheeriness, mixed in with a pinch of banter. So, despite the failure of my mission to track down a pint of cask Doom Bar, and compare it to the bottled version I'd recently enjoyed, of the same beer (Ed. they're NOT the same beer, at all), I had the joy of experiencing an unexpected gem of a pub, and one that I shall certainly return to.