Paul's Beer & Travel Blog

Hitting the magic ton!

2026-10-15T22:54:31.327+01:00

It’s taken nine and a half months of wandering, planning, and occasionally sheer opportunism, but I’ve finally struck gold. Yes, the magic ton has been hit. For those who don’t follow my particular brand of eccentric ticking, that means I’ve now visited one hundred unique pubs so far in 2026. By unique, I mean pubs I’ve set foot in once and once only this calendar year. Plenty of hostelries have seen me more than once - some far more than once, but for the purposes of this annual tally, each pub only counts the first time I cross the threshold.

Then, come 1^st January, the clock resets and the whole glorious chase begins again. It’s a slightly crazy challenge, but it keeps me exploring, keeps me curious, and occasionally gets me into places I’d never otherwise have discovered. Hitting the magic ton is definitely a proper milestone, and after nine and a half months of steady ticking, strategic detours, and the occasional “well, since I’m here anyway…” pint, I’ve finally done it. One hundred unique pubs in 2026. That’s not just dedication; that’s craft, discipline, and a touch of glorious obsession.

Now, while a hundred pubs might seem impressive to me- and it certainly is, I’m well aware that in the wider world of pub enthusiasts, it barely raises an eyebrow. Some of the seasoned wanderers whose online ramblings I follow, regularly clock up that total every two or three months. That’s dedication of a different order entirely, but it’s also the product of a particular stage of life. Most of them have long since left the world of work behind, enjoying the freedom that retirement brings. A few are simply very wealthy — though I can’t really claim to know anyone in that category.

For me, though, this year’s tally has been fun precisely because it’s taken me to pubs, that I’d never normally have thought of visiting. The challenge has pushed me out of familiar territory and into new villages, new towns, and new corners of Kent and Sussex, as well as the odd town, further afield. It’s broadened my horizons pint by pint. So, where next? With two and a half months still to go until the end of the year, there’s plenty of time to keep exploring. I could take things easy now I’ve reached the ton… but where’s the fun in that? There are still dozens of pubs within striking distance that I’ve never set foot in, and the map is full of tempting gaps. The chase continues - just at a slightly more relaxed pace.

There’s one detail I’ve conveniently omitted so far: not all of those hundred pubs were in the UK. The vast majority were, of course, but seven of them were in Norway - visited during our cruise, back in March, as we sailed up the Norwegian coast, beyond the Arctic Circle and back again. Add to that a single hostelry in the Irish Republic, in the very pleasant town of Cobh (the port for Cork), and the tally becomes a little more cosmopolitan.

I’m not entirely sure whether these foreign pubs count under whatever “official rules” might exist for pub‑ticking, but frankly, I’m saying they do. A pub is a pub, whether it’s perched overlooking a fjord or tucked into a colourful Irish harbour town. And besides, it would feel wrong to leave them out when they were such memorable stops.

As for the hundredth pub - the one that finally tipped me over into triple figures, it turned out to be the Imperial at Southborough. You’ll find it just down the hill as you drive along the A26 towards Tunbridge Wells. It’s a pleasant, well‑kept pub, divided internally into several distinct areas that aren’t quite separate rooms but give the place a comfortable, compartmentalised feel. I’ve known it on and off over the years, but it now stands as one of only two pubs remaining in that long, linear settlement that can’t quite decide whether it belongs to Tonbridge or Tunbridge Wells.

Not a bad place at all then, to mark the magic ton, especially as it was a totally unexpected place to end my quest. And now, with the ton finally chalked up, I can enjoy the rest of the year at a slightly more relaxed pace… or I can see how far beyond a hundred I can push things before New Year’s Eve.

Favesham - definitely may be

2026-10-13T22:43:26.953+01:00

I appreciate that it’s still mid-week, but I thought I’d spring this idea on you, especially as it will be the weekend, before we know it. I’m planning a day out in the attractive, north Kent town of Faversham, a location that despite a couple of changes, is easily accessible by rail. Furthermore, with the aid of my old git’s railcard, is a relatively inexpensive train ride away.

It’s probably a couple of decades since I last visited the town, and so today, I spent part of my lunch-break at work, planning out an itinerary. I also asked my friend Copilot for a few suggestions, and I’m pleased to report that AI’s recommendations were a pretty close match to my own. So, without further ado, this is what AI came up with.

A Faversham pub‑crawl is one of the best ideas you could have in Kent — compact town centre, proper heritage pubs, and of course the gravitational pull of Shepherd Neame, Britain’s oldest brewery. Based on the fresh local data above, here’s a structured, pub‑ticking‑friendly plan that plays to your interests: Victorian interiors, real ale, and places with character.

Top picks - shortlist

1. Bear Inn - central, historic, very well‑kept ales, strong reviews.

2. Sun Inn - 14th‑century coaching inn, atmospheric, reliable beer.

3. Elephant - independent, lively, good beer range beyond Shepherd Neame.

4. Phoenix Tavern - beamed, old‑world, refined food, cosy.

5. Anchor Inn - rustic, food‑led, locally sourced produce.

A practical pub‑ticking route that is easily walkable

Bear Inn (Market Place)

A cracking place to start - central, handsome frontage, and one of the best‑rated pubs in town (4.5★, 551 reviews). Good for a first pint while you get your bearings. Beer: Shepherd Neame classics in excellent condition.

Sun Inn (West Street)

Only a minute’s walk away. A 14th‑century inn with beams, nooks, and a proper old coaching‑house feel. Beer: Again Shepherd Neame, but the setting makes it worthwhile.

Elephant (The Mall)

Independent, friendly, and with a more varied beer selection — often local or guest ales. A nice change of pace after two SN houses. Atmosphere: Lively, community‑minded, very well reviewed .

Phoenix Tavern (Abbey Street)

A beautiful old building with bare brick, beams, and an inglenook fireplace. More of a dining pub, but still a lovely stop for a quieter pint. Beer: Shepherd Neame, but the setting elevates it.

Anchor Inn (Abbey Street)

A short stroll further up Abbey Street. Rustic, food‑led, and attached to its own farm. Beer: Not the widest range, but the pub is worth seeing.

To finish this short article, here's a link to a post I wrote about Faversham, which dates from April 2017. This was almost certainly the date of my last visit to the town, so Friday's proposed trip, is long overdue.

Beware of Danes bearing gold!

2026-10-10T16:46:04.248+01:00

The decision by Danish brewing giant Carlsberg to close the historic Marston’s brewery in Burton-on-Trent next summer, though long anticipated, still feels driven by profit and corporate greed.

Carlsberg cited the familiar reason of a steep and sustained decline in cask ale consumption across the UK. Data shows that by the mid-2020s, cask ale volumes in Britain had more than halved in less than a decade, with consumption continuing to fall year on year. The multinational claimed this collapse made it increasingly difficult to justify running large traditional ale breweries like Marston’s, presenting this harsh reality as the main reason behind the closure.

For me, this is a deeply poignant and sad moment. Marston's brewery in Burton-on-Trent was the first brewery I ever visited back in the mid-1970s as a student. That tour sparked my lasting interest in beer and brewing, so to see this splendid old Victorian era brewery vanish into rubble is particularly galling, even if it reflects the times we live in.

Carlsberg’s involvement with Marston’s came after a series of takeovers, and Marston's should have known better than to align with such a ruthless and predatory company. Before targeting Marston’s, Carlsberg had already closed the 150-year-old Banks brewery in Wolverhampton, citing similar market pressures and transferring production to Burton. Observers should have seen this earlier closure as a sign of further consolidation and Carlsberg’s ruthless readiness to dispose of historic ale sites.

The so-called strategic portfolio shift is somewhat of a joke, as Carlsberg aims to focus on growth categories and streamline operations, prioritising brands like Hobgoblin, McEwan’s, and Brooklyn as worthy of continued support. (McEwans anyone? And Brooklyn – that’s American, keg pish, surely?) Other cask and regional ales are to be sold to specialists or local owners—though there aren’t many left—making this corporate rhetoric from Copenhagen seem rather hollow. It signals a move away from maintaining large-scale traditional ale production facilities, and more Danegeld in the parent company’s coffers!

An update on the local pub scene, in West Kent (and beyond)

2026-10-08T17:16:14.211+01:00

Blogging has taken a bit of a back seat for a while, as I deal with the seemingly complex issues regarding my future financial position. These seem to revolve around Pension Consolidation and Pension Drawdown. Having now done much of the groundwork, there does now seem to be some light at the end of the tunnel, so with any luck I shall soon be able to set a firm date for my retirement.

In tandem with this I’ve been sorting out various areas of both house and garden, with the aim of making life easier, post-retirement. So, I’ve been sorting out various unwanted kitchen gadgets, tools and garden stuff (enough plastic flowerpots to start our own garden centre). There’s also the now, thankfully shrinking, mountain of household paperwork that I’ve slowly been feeding into the large, office-sized, shredder that we’ve got at work.

Clothes are another target area destined for the charity shop, although the main clear-out, especially of “office-type” outfits will have to wait until I retire. The garden is also in line for a makeover, as I gradually convert our “little oasis of green” to the most low-maintenance plot I can come up with, although here it’s going to be a case of “no pain, no gain.” Basically, I'm looking for a garden that almost looks after itself, so that I don't have to!

However, I haven’t given up completely on beer and pubs, and locally, there’s quite a lot going on at the moment, and we kick off with the Cross Keys. The latter is a large pub, in a prominent position on the edge of Southborough, that has stood empty for over a year, but after being acquired by new owners, is undergoing a refit plus a good spruce up. The pub is due to reopen following refurbishment with a "fresh identity" and will trade as the Boundary Bar & Grill. This will be under the ownership of two experienced business partners, one of whom also runs the Imperial, (also in Southborough).

Moving a little further along the A26, we come to the former Shuffle House, in the St John’s area of Tunbridge Wells. The pub has been renamed as the Duck & Goose, but back in its Shuffle House guise, it acted as the venue for my firm’s Christmas party. The shuffle tables remain as a feature of the Duck & Goose, and from the photos on the pub’s website, the interior appears as little changed, so why the change of name?

I also came across shuffle tables at the Mola Bar in the Norwegian town of Alesund, which we visited back in March, when the settlement was the first port of call on the cruise that took us beyond the Arctic Circle. Shuffleboards take up a lot of space, but can provide a spot of measures excitement, providing there’s sufficient room in the pub, or bar.

Moving on to a slightly more rural location, we come to the Fleur de Lys, in the centre of Leigh, a former estate village between Hildenborough and Chiddingstone. The Fleur has been undergoing a major refit for the past nine months or more, and with progress remaining painfully slow, there are still no signs yet of a definitive opening date. The Fleur is reportedly owned by a wealthy, crypto-currency trader, who bought and restored the nearby Hall Place, a grade II -listed, 19^th century, stately pile, complete with its own well laid out and extensive grounds.

The story I picked up on locally (don’t forget I work in the neighbouring village of Chiddingstone Causeway), was that the monied new owner of Hale Place also bought the pub, because he thought it important that a village like Leigh, should have its own pub. A philosophy I’m sure many people would agree with, so why the delay in re-opening the Fleur?

Heading out towards Sussex now, in a south-westerly direction, we come to the Brown Trout, sited close to the village of Lamberhurst, and close to Bewl Water. The latter is a large reservoir which opened back in the 1970's. Following a period of closure, during which the pub was extensively refurbished by our old friends, Stonegate Inns, we find the pub-co seeking a new licensee to run it. This means there are hopes of the pub reopening soon. The Brown Trout is a pub that I’ve only been in a couple of times, as it’s a little tucked away, so it will be good to call in though, when it does eventually reopen.

Travelling in the more or less opposite direction, brings us to the former Whitbread Hop Farm at Beltring, where a converted, former oast house, on the edge of the farm, has been bought from former owners, Whitbread, for an undisclosed sum. Still trading under its former name of Brooker’s Oast, this former Beefeater outlet, which had been due to close following the winding up of the steakhouse chain, by owners, Whitbread, remains open for business. The pub is now owned by an outfit called, Queensway Inns, whose other two pubs are located down in Cornwall, making this a slightly strange purchase. As one observer has pointed out, the establishment appears to be operating much as before, so if you want a steakhouse-type meal, this is the place to come.

On the borders between West Kent and Surrey, and standing proudly on Westerham's village green for more than seven centuries, is the Grasshopper on the Green, a remarkable survivor amongst English pubs. Over the course of its long history, the Grasshopper has seen 31 monarchs and 74 Prime Ministers come and go and yet the warmth of its welcome remains unchanged. The pub now has new owners, in the guise of Mike & Nicola Vigar, who were loyal customers for 25 years before taking over the reins. Compared to the grandeur of Westerham’s other two pubs, the Kings Head and the George & Dragon, the much smaller Grasshopper, is cosier and much more people sized, making it the establishment that gets my vote as the “best in Westerham.”

This brings us to the penultimate pub in the area, facing a new future, which is the former Spread Eagle, in the Hawkenbury area of Tunbridge Wells. Until recently, the site of the pub had been earmarked for redevelopment, but in a turn up for the books, this attractive looking pub has now been listed by Stonegate, as available for a fixed term tenancy with food-led potential.

The final pub is not actually in the West Kent area, but I couldn’t close this article on re-opening public houses without mentioning the Elephant & Castle in Lewes. Readers may recall me going looking for this pub, on a recent visit to Lewes, only to find it, unexpectedly closed. Now, according to the Brighton Argus, this Harvey’s-tied house is due to reopen at the end of this month, under the stewardship of new landlord Max Aben, with local couple, Liz Temperley and Pat Mundy, running the food offering, under the banner of their already successful, Pat's Pizza operation. Unfortunately, this will necessitate me making what will be my third trip to Lewes this year, although it will allow me to “mop up” a number of other pubs that I’ve missed on recent visits to the East Sussex, county town. It’s a hard life!!

Two contrasting pubs, along the Tonbridge - Redhill rail-line

2026-10-03T23:16:56.491+01:00

It was Pub Friday again two days ago, and seeing as I’d been such a dutiful husband, and sorted out — or "partially" sorted out, to be more accurate, the disorganised kitchen in our extension (the “old kitchen”, as it’s now been designated), I felt fully justified the following morning, in abandoning Mrs PBT’s to finish the job. Spoiler alert: she didn’t finish it. I’ll be doing that next week, because despite my wife's protestations to the contrary, I remain the tidiest and most organised of the pair of us. Anyway, that’s enough of our domestic shenanigans. The real question was: where to go?

I’m still working towards beating last year’s target of visiting 106 different pubs over the course of a calendar year. Before Friday, my total stood at 96, and seeing as I managed to tick off two more that day, including one that was totally new to me, I’m now languishing at 98 pubs, with the aim of hitting the magic ton by next weekend. There are still quite a few pubs left for me to tick off in Tunbridge Wells, but I fancied going somewhere a little different. And what better idea than to hop on a train along the Tonbridge-Redhill line, heading towards the latter town but alighting one stop before that important rail junction?

That meant getting off at Nutfield, a large village that is the final stop before Redhill. It’s a place that I’d never visited before, not by car and certainly not by rail, and more importantly, I realised I could pick up a pub in Edenbridge on the same outing. The place I had in mind was a pub that I hadn’t set foot in for thirty‑plus years. So that’s exactly what I did.

Before describing the day itself, here are a few facts and figures about the Tonbridge-Redhill line, a route that was once the main railway artery between the capital and the Kent coast. Rather than bury myself in dates and statistics (which, knowing me, would have taken all afternoon), I let my Copilot friend do the research instead, and this is what it came back with.

The Tonbridge–Redhill railway, historically known as the Redhill line, is one of the oldest sections of main‑line railway infrastructure in the Southeast. Its story is surprisingly rich for a line that today feels like a quiet local shuttle, so make yourselves comfortable and read on. The Tonbridge- Redhill line opened in May 1842, after being authorised by Parliament in 1836. It was part of the South-Eastern Railway’s original London-Dover main line, running from Redhill through to Tonbridge. Because it was intended for fast long‑distance running, it was designed with few curves and little concern for local population centres, which is why today, many stations sit some distance from the villages they serve.

In 1868, the SER opened a new, and more direct main line via Orpington and Sevenoaks, with several major tunnels and faster running times. This relegated the Tonbridge-Redhill line to local service status. The line became part of Southern Railway in 1923, and then British Railways Southern Region in 1948. Steam services ended in 1965 and were replaced by diesel multiple units.Electrification, 750 V DC third rail, was authorised in 1990 and completed in 1993–94, a process that allowed the role of the line to shift again, to a diversionary line for both Eurostar, as well as Southeastern services, before settling back into today’s all‑stations shuttle.

I became a regular user of the Tonbridge-Redhill line, when I moved to Tonbridge at the tail end of 1984, because coinciding with my change of address, was me joining, a moribund CAMRA branch, and helping to get it back on its feet. So, what was originally the Tonbridge & Tunbridge Wells branch of CAMRA, eventually became West Kent branch. I shan’t go into any more details here, but having re-established the branch and formed a new committee, we were charged with surveying all the pubs in the area (keg as well as cask), with a view to selecting suitable pubs for the following year’s Good Beer Guide.

Quite a task, but I was 40 years younger then, as were my fellow new committee members. One stipulation we made was that future branch meetings should be held at pubs that were accessible, as much as possible, by public transport, and with few bus services operating into the evening, this effectively meant places close to a station. It was during these surveys that I first became acquainted with settlements along the Tonbridge- Redhill line, including Leigh, Chiddingstone Causeway, Edenbridge and Redhill itself.

The latter town whilst not within the West Kent area, provided an ideal meeting point for socials with one of the neighbouring Surrey branches. The Home Cottage, owned by Young’s Brewery, was the pub of choice, given its proximity to Redhill station. I also starting using the line for other purposes, such as travel to work, where Penshurst station, provides an occasional alternative to driving. The line is also useful for travel to and from Gatwick Airport, even if it does involve a change of platform at Redhill.

So, what were the two pubs that I visited the other day? First up was the Station Pub, in Nutfield which, as its name suggests, is literally a stone’s throw from the station. Just walk away from the down platform, turn the corner, and less than five minutes later, you will come across this large, and much altered, late-Victorian establishment. The pub was built for the Reigate Brewery of Mellersh & Neale, to serve the community that was growing up around Nuffield railway station.

The Station Pub was much larger than I had expected, although the name "Hotel” ought perhaps to have given the game away. I’m assuming that in its heyday, the place must have provided accommodation for travellers, and those stepping inside will be greeted by a number of bright and characterful rooms, overlooking a well-laid out, rear garden. Today, the pub proudly proclaims that it’s a drinks-focused pub, with no kitchen and no fuss, but that doesn't mean visitors will go hungry. Instead, a range of regular, food “pop-up partners” bring something special to the table when they visit. I didn’t find out when the food might be, as having breakfasted just a few hours ago I wasn’t exactly hungry.

Outside, a couple were enjoying the early October sunshine, while a group of fella’s sat towards the back of the pub. I noticed a woman who I’d seen on the train, standing at the bar. She seemed to know the barmaid and must have hurried away from the station to get there before me. The pair paused their conversation to allow the barmaid to serve me, offering a choice Taylor’s Landlord – complete with the new look pump clip, a Hobgoblin ale of some description, and the ubiquitous Harvey's Best. I opted for the latter, but unfortunately, it wasn’t the best pint of Sussex that I’ve had recently. It wasn’t off and it wasn’t flat, and if anything, it tasted too young.

It was also overly chilled, which didn’t help either, which meant I was struggling to finish it. I also realised that my train back towards Edenbridge was due shortly, so I returned about a quarter of the unfinished pint to the bar and apologised to the girl by explaining that I wasn’t feeling particularly bright. A white lie I know, but one that prevented a minor diplomatic incident, without bruising anyone's ego! I then headed back to the station, crossed the footbridge, and waited for the next service back towards Tonbridge.

The train was more or less on time, and after passing through Godstone, it wasn’t long before we arrived at Edenbridge. There are two rail stations serving the town, with the one at the top, and the one I arrived at, simply called Edenbridge. From here it is about a 20-minute walk down to the town centre, where, just beyond the centre of the Old Town, lies Edenbridge Town station. This station is on a completely separate rail line running towards Uckfield, via Eridge and Crowborough .

Returning to the pub visits, I left the train at Edenbridge station (the top one), and walked through a new housing development, which partly occupies the site of the former Albion pub, a long-vanished establishment that I had only visited a couple of times before. From there, I continued northwards, and away from the town, along the B2026. A short distance further, in the area known as Marlpit Hill, is the Swan Inn.

The latter is a long and fairly narrow, brick-built pub, that has been sympathetically modernised, without losing its essential character. The sole cask offering was Taylor’s Landlord, and this time still with the old-style clip. It was also in tip-top condition. With the sun now shining, and the temperatures starting to climb, I took my pint outside, into the extensive garden, at the rear of the pub, and sat there enjoying the beer. One could tell it was Friday by the number of builders’ vans pitching up, as the thirsty Chippies, Brickies and Sparkies finished their work for the week, to be rewarded with a well-earned pint or two.

It was time for me to finish too, so I made my way back to the station, and boarded the 14:16 service back to Tonbridge, just ahead of the manic hordes of excited school kids, about to be set free, at the end of another busy, academic week.

Kirkwall, capital of the Orkney Islands

2026-09-29T22:10:36.594+01:00

Kirkwall, capital of the Orkney Islands, was a delight, and was our first port of call on our recent cruise, after one day and two nights at sea. The skies were overcast when we arrived and the temperatures much colder than we'd been used to back in Kent, for much of the summer. It was also was nice to see plenty of bright green grass after weeks of looking out over parched and burnt lawns, roadside verges, and sad, bare-looking hedgerows. Kirkwall, itself is a lovely little town, untouched and unsullied by many of the 21st‑century woes that afflict mainland Britain (litter and mindless graffiti, posing as art).

A shuttle bus, laid on by the cruise line, drove us into town, and dropped us at the bus station, close to the town’s cathedral. This compact building is constructed from local stone, that has an unusual reddish tint to it, although for the life of me, I couldn’t tell you what the stones are. This is despite achieving an “O” level in geology. We then took a wander down towards harbour, passing lots of familiar shops on the way, along with banks that were still trading, unlike many of those back home. We even noticed a proper Royal Mail, Post Office. The drop in temperature, I mentioned earlier necessitated Mrs PBT’s buying us each a warm and attractive-looking woolly hat, as we’d foolishly left our own headgear back home in “tropical” Kent.

We stopped at a colourful looking coffee shop, which I think was attached to one of the local breweries. We sat out in the courtyard, overlooked by a colourful mural, painted on the back of some of the local houses. We then headed down towards the harbour, picking up a few more goodies on the way. A pint was in order, but it wasn’t quite opening time, so we sat admiring the tranquil scene of the boats in the harbour, and before long staff at the small and attractive Helgi’s Bar, were opening the door. We were the first customers of the day, although not for long.

Helgi’s is a current Good Beer Guide entry, and after spending some time there, it’s easy to understand why it achieved CAMRA Northern Isles, Pub of the Year. There were three beers on sale from local brewery, Swannay - Sunny in Birsay 3.4%, Dark Monro 4.0% and Scapa Special 4.2%, which was the beer I went for, a perfectly balanced beer for every day quaffing. Swannay are based in a rustic farmstead in the north westerly tip of Orkney’s mainland. It wasn’t long before Helgi’s started to get busy, but despite the beers and the friendly atmosphere we've decided not to eat, as we only really wanted a light bite.

After leaving the pub we made our way back to the bus station and then the shuttle bus back to the ship. After a spot a lunch, we ascended to the pool deck, and spent a pleasant and lazy afternoon soaking up the sun. The views out across the calm waters of Scapa Flow - the legendary semi-enclosed, area of water that provided a calm and sheltered anchorage, for the Royal Navy’s Home Fleet, during two world wars. We remained there, enjoying the warm weather until the 6pm sail-away, when Ambience bade farewell to Kirkwall and Orkney.

Our time there was spoilt slightly because a local Pipe Band had been booked to play for the sail-off, but unfortunately the the music of the band was partially drowned out by the dross emanating from the ship's "entertainment" system.

The volume hadn't been turned down sufficiently, so we had to try and listen to the the local musicians whilst at the same time putting up with sounds of the 70’s and 80’s drowning out the local performers. Leaving the quayside behind us, we enjoyed the sail away, as we headed out in the direction of the nearby island of Hoy. I remember watching, with my father, a live televised broadcast, of a group of climbers, successfully scaling the impressive sea stack, known as the Old Man of Hoy. This was back in the late 1960’s, and was the first time that this lump of rock had been climbed.

Leaving Hoy behind, we headed out into the main channel. Then following a south-westerly setting, we sailed towards the island of Lewis and the port of Stornoway, where we would be docking the following morning. So despite an all too brief glimpse of Orkney’s capital, we enjoyed our time on this far northerly part of the British Isles. One final thing we noticed, was the number of Norwegian flags being flown from buildings in Kirkwall. Now this was either a tribute to the King of Norway, who had died a few days previously, or it might have been due to the large number of inhabitants of both Orkney and Shetland, who claim Viking descent. An interesting point, but the people who live in these islands, are definitely not Scottish.

Lewes finally, and a few classic Sussex pubs

2026-09-26T15:45:37.953+01:00

After a couple of introductory posts, it's time to dive into the heart of my recent trip to Lewes and bring you the pub news that I know you’ve all been waiting for. Following my al fresco, AI-approved, pasty and coffee lunch, I set off along Cliffe High Street, crossing the ornate bridge over the river Ouse, with the iconic view of Harvey's Brewery to my left. I then turned directly opposite into the narrow road leading to the John Harvey Tavern, a charming establishment that has mellowed beautifully over the years. Although a relatively new addition to the Harvey’s tied estate, the pub has matured into a thriving two-bar establishment housed in a building faced with local flints.

I opted for the room on the right, which houses the main bar, whereas the room opposite is more of an overspill area, that is handy for diners. There is also a large upstairs room, a fact I recall from a presentation evening I attended a couple of decades ago. That was when Mrs. PBT’s and I had our own off-licence in Tonbridge and had an account with Harvey's. We regularly bought draft and bottled beers, as well as a range of interesting wines, which is what led to the invitation. You can read the story of that evening here, but spoiler alert most of it passed in an alcoholic haze, largely due to a surfeit of vintage port.

The John Harvey Tavern provided an excellent venue for the presentation and the drinks, and whilst I’ve made several return visits since, stepping inside the pub is a guaranteed to bring a smile to my face, as I recall that rather boozy evening. The Tavern is always a pleasant place to be, given its tucked away location close to the river and virtually opposite the brewery yard. Several Harvey’s beers were on tap that day, as you can see from the photo, but my tipple of choice was Lewes Castle Brown Ale, a beer not often seen in cask form but tasty and enjoyable.

Moving further along Cliffe High Street, takes the thirsty visitor to the Gardener's Arms, a small, but thriving pub that has long been regarded as Lewes's premier, independent ale house. The Gardener’s consists of two, quite basic rooms - a front bar and a back bar with a serving area in the middle. Serving up to four different ever-changing cask ales, it attracts many local characters. During my relatively short stay at the bar, I engaged with a couple of local wags, plus a barmaid who clearly knew both her beers, as well as keeping customers in order.

I wasn't quite as impressed though with the beer she recommended, as a substitute for the Burning Sky, Plateau, advertised on the chalkboard outside. The latter unfortunately, had just ran out, and the 4.0% Hip-Hop from Langham Brewery, was far too citrusy for my liking. I'm not very familiar with Langham beers, and I’m not even sure where the place is. One local claimed that it’s near Chichester, but regardless of its origin, it wasn’t the beer for me. Never mind, you win some, you lose some, and the atmosphere and banter in the Gardener’s more than made up for a beer that I struggled to enjoy.

Next, I set out in search of a pub I knew vaguely about, both in name and location, but had never visited. Crossing the road, I walked back up the steep School Hill, which was enough to get my heart pounding and legs aching. At the top, I turned right into Fisher Street, passed a now-closed pub, whose name escapes me, located near the War Memorial. I remember visiting it once on November 5^th and actually getting served—not always easy if you weren’t a member of a local bonfire society. The pub I was looking for was the Elephant and Castle, and the vague idea I had of its location, on the northern flank of the imposing Lewes Castle mound, turned out to be correct.

Unfortunately, the pub was closed, boarded up and looking a bit sorry for itself. I'm not sure why it closed, or when it ceased training, but looking at the condition of the building, I would say the closure took place quite recently. According to the Harvey’s website, the Elephant & Castle belongs to the brewery, and is described as a traditional Lewes pub, that was built in 1838. Selling four cask ales alongside a number of craft beers, and a Good Beer Guide pub for 15 years. Home of Commercial Square Bonfire Society, with good, home cooked food served daily, plus the best pub function room in Lewes. So why is the place closed? Answers please, on a postcard.

I took a couple of pictures and walked back up to the castle mound, then down again to visit a classic Lewes pub and one of my favourites, in the town. I’m talking about the Lewes Arms, an attractive brick-built pub with a prominent rounded corner, close to the former Beards Brewery in Star Lane. A quick side step before we move onto the Lewes Arms. Beards were a company that had opted out of brewing in 1958, primarily because their cramped, town-centre brewery, was suffering from a lack of space and, more seriously, a yeast infection. Beards felt that by pooling resources with Harvey’s, the future of both companies would be assured. Harvey’s would benefit from the increased capacity, whilst Beards would not have the bother of having to brew the beer themselves.

This arrangement lasted until 1986, when Beards pubs became free to choose from a wide range of different cask ales supplied by the company’s wholesaling division. This side of the business was later sold off; becoming the well-known wholesaling company The Beer Seller. In the summer of 1998, Beard & Co agreed the sale of their entire tied estate to Greene King, and the company to all intents and purposes ceased to exist. It was rumoured that Harvey’s were somewhat put out by this deal, as not only did they lose their supply contract with Beards, but they also lost the chance to buy the company’s pubs. Harvey’s, had been under the impression they would get “first refusal” on the Beards estate, should it ever come up for sale, although Harvey’s have never openly admitted this. The Beards brewery buildings still stand, although they have now been converted into an arts centre alongside spaces for a number of small businesses.

Back to the pub, and last Friday the Lewes Arms was serving beers from Fuller's, St. Austell, and Gale’s. When I arrived, the pub was quiet, with just a handful of middle-aged drinkers chatting in the front bar, passing the time of day and sharing the banter. I settled in the rear bar, which was a nice cosy and comfortable space, albeit with a view through the glass, into the front bar. I stayed for a pint of Seafarers, which was in good condition, before making my way past the sprawling Beards complex and heading back down to High Street. It was then on to the station and the train home, but not before one final pint. You might recall from my previous post, that the bus journey down to Lewes, was something of a drag - not quite a complete nightmare, but it felt as though it went on forever. The train, which despite involving changing at either St. Leonards or Gatwick, was the quickest and most comfortable way back to Tonbridge. Unlike the bus, I would have to buy a ticket, but with a third off the price, due to my "Old Git’s" Railcard, the faster journey would be worth every penny.

I consequently headed down Station Street, passing on my left, the Royal Oak, another former Beards pub. I was tempted to nip in, but it was getting late, and I had promised Mrs PBT’s that I’d be back in time for tea. I therefore gave the Royal Oak a miss and continued to the bottom of the hill and called in at the Landsdown instead. Located conveniently close to Lewes station, the Lansdown Arms is a quirky pub, with a raised floor area at the far end. Signs notify visitors of the possible trip hazard, but customers only really need to take a step up, if they wish to visit the toilets.

Harvey’s Best, Pells Pale, Landlord, plus Thornbridge Jaipur, were the cask offerings, and the latter was the obvious
choice for me. I have made several visits to the Landsdown, over the years, and have always found it to have a real local feel, without being too cliquey. The flagstone floor and old-world interior, help in this respect, and the location almost opposite the station, make it the ideal pub for those arriving or departing Lewes, by train.

My journey home, followed the south coast route via Polegate and Eastbourne, followed by a change of trains at St Leonards. The revenue enforcement staff were checking tickets, on board the service out of Eastbourne, as apparently this section of the network, is prone to fare dodging – and you all thought the town that is home to a high percentage of the over-65’s, was such a quiet and genteel sort of place?

Seaside towns don’t always attract the right sort of people, as a work colleague, who lives in Worthing, has testified, on several occasions. I was alright, though, despite having difficulty in retrieving my paper ticket. Tonbridge still issues proper card tickets, unlike those flimsy efforts on the Southern part of the rail network, as Stafford Paul will remember from our visit to Chichester a couple of years ago.

The O2 shop, a bus ride to Lewes, followed by pasty heaven

2026-09-24T18:06:06.806+01:00

Having decided not to attend the Bluebell Railway Beer Festival, for reasons previously explained, I thought that a visit to Lewes would be a decent substitute, as well as a good idea. Travelling by bus, via Tunbridge Wells, would enable me to call in at the O2 shop in the town in order to sort out the data allowance issues I'd been experiencing with my Samsung mobile phone. These had arisen whilst on holiday and occurred because I was, quite rightly, too tight to pay the £100, yes £100 for onboard internet connection! Like many cruise lines Ambassador rely on Elon Musk's Starlink system for communications and web browsing whilst at sea, so that's another reason not to cough up a tonne for someone who’s already got far more money than sense.

I didn't miss not being connected at all in fact it was rather than nice but when we docked, and bearing in mind that we primarily sailing around the British Isles, I did occasionally log on to catch up with emails and in particular, an ongoing application to unlock one of my frozen pension funds. Anyway, I jumped on a bus going towards Tunbridge Wells, and since I was travelling before 9.30am, the start time for UK bus passes during the week, I had to pay for my fare! It was the princely sum of £3.00, but the price didn’t really justify knocking 10 minutes off my journey.

I called in at the O2 shop, as planned, to confirm I was paying the correct tariff for my phone and to establish how much many months were left on my current contract. There was just over a year remaining, but I must surely have paid for my Samsung Galaxy several times over, since acquiring it two years ago! Moving swiftly on I walked along to the bus stop but unfortunately, I’d just missed the No. 29 Brighton bus, which meant a 25-minute wait for the next one.

One of the reasons for going to Lewes was to return a dozen or so empty bottles to return to the brewery shop. I’m sure some readers will recall me undertaking a similar journey earlier in the year, for the exactly the same purpose. There were too many to carry on that occasion, hence me making a return trip, but since last Christmas a large number of empty Harvey's beer bottles had accumulated in our summer house.

As I've written in the past Harvey’s are one of the very few UK breweries that still wash and reuse their bottles, and good luck to them, because I think it's an excellent idea. Far better for the bottles to be refilled, rather than perfectly decent specimens ending up in bottle banks, smashed to smithereens. It’s worth noting too that a lot more energy has to be used to create to create brand new bottles rather than simply cleaning and washing empty ones, ready to be used again.

I received the princely sum of £1.20 for those bottles, and with my load considerably lightened, resisted the temptation to buy more. I could perhaps, have picked up a few cans, and I did at one stage have the intention of returning later to the shop and doing just that, but it never happened. I set off to find somewhere to eat, and I also wanted a drink, as foolishly I didn't bring any water with me.

The bus journey had seemed to take forever, primarily because after reaching Crowborough the bus was routed round what I would call, for what of a better phrase, the “arse end” of the town. That’s not implying there's anything wrong with that part of Crowborough, and it’s certainly not rundown or anything like that, in fact it's quite well maintained as one would expect from a well-to-do, leafy suburb. It's just that without any pubs or shops, it comes across as one area of sterile housing after another, some of it very much “des reses” but boring all the same.

Eventually, the bus worked its way back around to the south of the town and rejoined the A26. It’s that part of the journey where the imposing bulk of the South Downs escarpment first comes into view, bringing back memories of a succession of long-distance walks, along the South Downs Way, twenty or more years ago. Time was marching on though, and there was still the bottom end of Ashdown Forest to negotiate, before the bus eventually pulled into Uckfield. Further delays followed as we pulled into the bus station, before eventually making our way out of the town and on towards Lewes.

There was no escaping the South Downs as the bus approached Lewes, but I was already having serious doubts about how I should make the return journey, especially if it was after a belly full of beer. Spoiler alert, I made the return journey by rail, despite having to pay for it, and missing the free ride home that my bus pass would have given me. As things turned out I didn't have more than a few pints of beer, but still enough for me to make use of the toilet facilities on the train home.

So, something to eat, and a coffee to drunk as well, before getting stuck into a few of Lewes’s finest pubs. I noticed the presence of a Gail’s Bakery, just before I alighted from the bus at the bottom of School Hill, after first returning my empty bottles to Harvey’s Shop, I retraced my route and set foot inside the much-vaunted Gail’s for the first time. It wasn’t surprising to find this upmarket bakery trading in an equally upmarket town like Lewes, but posh nosh or not, they didn’t have the Cornish Pasty I was lusting after.

However, on the other side of the road, was a branch of the rapidly expanding Cornish Bakery chain, where I was able to obtain exactly what I was looking for, as evidenced in the attached photo. I sat outside enjoying my artisanal lunch, which was just right for the occasion. So much so that it was worth asking what Copilot had to say about my spot of al fresco lunch.

“That looks like a proper little moment of calm, Paul — a pasty with a decent-looking coffee, the sort of simple pairing that somehow feels more restorative than it has any right to be. The pasty’s crust has that slightly blistered, golden finish that suggests it’ll give a satisfying crack when you bite in, and the coffee’s foam looks like it was made by someone who actually cares about getting the milk right rather than just blasting it with steam “.

“It’s the kind of table you linger at for a few minutes longer than planned, letting the warmth of the cup settle you while the world keeps moving around. A small, quiet pleasure — but those are often the ones that stick”.

It’s quite scary for AI to be summarising my lunchtime treat like that, and all from a simple photograph, but that’s the direction we appear to be heading, at the moment. In the meantime, let’s leave things here, before getting down to the nitty gritty of what this blog is still all about, a decent pint, in a decent pub. See you in the next post.

A change of plan

2026-09-20T20:34:04.026+01:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tobermory re-visited. Two pubs plus a distillery

2026-09-17T17:47:58.847+01:00

I'm pretty certain that this wasn't my first trip to Tobermory, as back in the mid-1970s I took part in a two-week botany, field course on the island of Mull. This was at the end of my second year at Salford University. Our accommodation during our time on the island, was a large, rented country house that had probably seen better days, although it was ideally suited for the purposes of the course.

The accommodation was divided on strictly gender lines, with female students billeted in the house whilst us male students had to sleep outside in a number of tents. There was no problem with that apart from the fact we were plagued by biting insects that were at their most prevalent during late June - mosquitoes but also horseflies. Fortunately, in the main, these biting critters left me alone, but one poor fellow student was practically eaten alive.

I digress, but one fact worth noting was those one of the two laboratory technicians employed by the university, who accompanied us on the course, had the foresight to bring a couple of firkins of Boddington's Bitter along. The pair had been to Mull before and knew how dire the local beer scene was, especially to for people coming from the Manchester region. Boddington's was still a highly regarded beer, back then, and the two casks were welcomed by students and university staff, with the possible exception of the course leader. Our rather eccentric lecturer was not amused and claimed that the support staff had left some important equipment behind, to make room for the beer! Complete rubbish of course, and just sour grapes on his part!

For the record our country house field course base was in the village of Bunessan, a tiny settlement of just 200 souls in the far south of the island, in the area known as the Ross of Mull. The village watering hole was the Bunessan Inn (previously the Argyll Arms), and although we made a couple of visits there, the locals weren’t exactly friendly. So, with Boddie’s bitter on tap, back at our study centre, and just keg McEwan’s in the village pub, we did most of our drinking back at the ranch, so to speak. At some stage of the trip, we made a brief visit to Tobermory, although after 50 years I can't quite remember why we would have done that, given the remoteness of our country house base. However, the memory of that visit stuck in my mind, and on day five of our “Treasures of the British Isles” cruise, the opportunity of a return trip to Tobermory arose.

With no significant docks or other berthing facilities on the island, our cruise ship anchored out in the sound, with passengers being transferred ashore by tender, in effect three of the ships’ lifeboats. Mrs PBT's remained on the ship, as she is not particularly mobile at the best of times, and didn’t fancy clambering in and out of a relatively small boat.

The journey across on the tender took about 20-25 minutes and when I stepped ashore in Tobermory, the sun was shining, and all seemed well with the world. I headed along the waterfront into the town pausing first for a quick look at the Tobermory Distillery, a business that was visited several years ago by Eileen’s late brother, David. The town of Tobermory and the single malt whiskey produced there, were items that were high on David’s list of places to visit. His chance came when, along with his partner Lynn, he embarked on a similar, “Round Britain Cruise” to the one that Eileen and I were enjoying.

Sadly, David never had a chance to properly enjoy the bottle that he purchased from the Tobermory Distillery, although Lynn kindly passed the bottle on to me. I’m no whisky connoisseur, although I do enjoy the occasional “dram”. Those snifters are very occasional though, as two-thirds of the bottle I inherited remains un-drunk. This is despite the 12-year-old, single malt Tobermory whisky, being very distinctive, with a palate that is described as gently sweet, un-peated and floral. The distillery itself dates back to 1798 and is one of the oldest commercial distilleries in Scotland. It’s true to say that the whisky embodies the character and feel of Tobermory, so much so that whilst writing this piece, I was tempted to pour myself a dram and drink a toast to Eileen’s late, and much-missed brother. Note: it’s a very intense, and strong-tasting single malt, that is definitely one for sipping and savouring, rather than throwing down one’s neck. Here’s to you, David Cosham!

Moving away from the quayside, I continued on into the town and found it a charming and delightful place, with the brightly painted and colourful buildings, that are home to a myriad of local independent shops, hotels, restaurants and bars. Before sampling a few of these for myself, I strolled along to the far end of the seafront and then followed a path going uphill, to the location of the Isle of Mull War Memorial, from where I enjoyed a panoramic vista out over the town below. I then joined another path that led back down the hillside, and into the town. Before reaching the first watering-hole of the day, I stopped to take a photo of the Tobermory Youth Hostel, which is reproduced here for Stafford Paul’s benefit. I wonder if he’s stayed there, at all?

I then ventured inside the Mishnish Hotel, a busy, multi-room pub on the harbour front near the ferry terminal. Painted in a stand-out shade of bright yellow, this recently refurbished establishment offers a number of en-suite rooms, alongside a well-regarded restaurant, serving local produce. The bar is open until 1am in the summer, if the trade is sufficiently busy, and food is served until late. The Mishnish was already starting to get busy when I stepped inside, and not just with people like me who’d come on the cruise ship. I discovered a number of inter-connected rooms, on the right-hand side of the building, and this is where the main bar is, whilst the aforementioned restaurant is on the left.

On tap was Jarl, a legendary, Citra-session, blonde ale from Fyne Ales. The beer was in good form and slipped down a treat. There was an additional cask offering, in the form of No. 47, a house beer, also brewed by Fyne, but it was taken off service before I departed.

Satisfied with just the one beer for the time being, I headed back belong from seafront, calling in at the local bakery where I purchased a tasty and rather flavoursome Cornish pasty. I sat enjoying this lunchtime offering, whilst overlooking the sea front, and followed it up with a small tub of locally produced, ice cream. I then continued back along towards the embarkation point for the return journey to the ship, but before joining the queue there was time for one final pub visit.

The pub in question was called McGochan’s, and this red-painted, two storey pub and restaurant facing the car park at the western end of the harbour was just the place to say goodbye to Mull. The pub didn’t open until 3pm, which is why I didn’t notice it when I arrived in Tobermory. I clocked it on the way back though, and with plenty of time before the final tender, back to the ship, I left the queue I’d joined a few minutes earlier, and headed off to the pub.

McGochan’s is part of the Rocks Leisure Group, who operate a number of similar pubs in four other, picturesque, Scottish locations. Their Tobermory outlet was a real gem, with the mixture of contemporary and traditional working well. There were a couple of cask offerings on the bar, in the form of Ardgou Brewery - Goghar Odhar, a bit of a mouthful, but a pleasant beer, nevertheless, alongside the Fyne Ales, Jarl, that I’d sampled earlier. My unpronounceable beer was served to me, in tip-to condition, by a pleasant and rather chatty Australian barmaid.

I was pleased not to have missed this excellent, harbourside pub, which rounded off nicely, my return visit to Tobermory. After picking up a full complement of passengers, the tender set off for the ship. The sea da was a little choppy out on the main channel, where the ship was anchored, but it wasn’t something I couldn't really cope with. Arriving back on Ambience, I was in time to join Mrs PBT’s for afternoon tea, an event that seems something of a tradition on British cruise lines. It was a fitting end to what had been a most enjoyable day out in what was our final Hebridean port of call.

A day in Belfast: first impressions, a classic heritage pub, plus a rather stubborn anchor

2026-09-14T20:57:20.616+01:00

Our cruise ship, Ambience, eased into Belfast on a slightly overcast but mostly dry September Saturday, just after 8:00. The wind was brisk enough to remind us we were in Northern Ireland, but the weather was kind enough to let exploration win the day. It was our first visit to Belfast, and both Mrs PBT's and I were keen to get off the boat and see what the city had to offer. Breakfast on board was a modest affair — nothing much appealed, so I settled for some granola and a couple of slices of toast before we got ourselves ready and disembarked.

Arrival and first impressions

Ambience was berthed in the port area not far from Belfast City Airport, something we didn’t notice at first but certainly did on our return when planes were taking off almost overhead. From the terminal we boarded a double‑deck shuttle bus into the city centre, passing the famous Harland & Wolff shipyard on the way. With its two colossal yellow cranes dominating the skyline, there was no mistaking where we were; this was the birthplace of the ill-fated Titanic.

The bus dropped us right in front of the impressive Belfast City Hall. We wandered around the shops for a while — mainly for Mrs PBTs’ benefit — and found all the usual UK suspects: Primark, Boots, and even a hardware shop tucked away nearby. Afterwards, we sat for a while on a bench in the pleasant grounds of City Hall, watching the city wake up around us.

The Crown Liquor Saloon

Our main objective for the morning was the legendary Crown Liquor Saloon, which is a must-visit venue for visitors to Belfast. This Victorian gem, which dates back to 1898 and now owned by the National Trust. It’s one of those pubs you hear about for years and seeing it in person doesn’t disappoint. Ornate tiles, carved wood, stained glass, snugs- the full Victorian fantasy.

Despite arriving shortly after its 11:30 opening time, the place was already buzzing. We managed to secure a booth opposite the bar, and I went to fetch drinks: a Diet Coke for Mrs PBT’s and a pint of Abbeydale Moonshine for myself. Unfortunately the Abbeydale tasted off, and was definitely on the turn, so I took it back. The young lad behind the bar tasted the beer and straight away swapped it without fuss for a pint of Timothy Taylor’s Landlord. Predictable, perhaps, but reliably drinkable.

The booth next to us was occupied by a rather noisy group, possibly a stag party, or maybe something connected to an Orange Order demonstration scheduled later in the day. Whatever the reason, the pub was heaving, and as our booth was reserved for a larger group from 1:00 onwards, we drank up and may our way out, but only after exploring the pub’s wonderfully old‑fashioned toilet.

Lunch and people‑watching

On the walk back to the shuttle bus pickup point, we stopped at one of the bakeries in the city centre and bought a couple of hot sausage rolls. We ate them whilst sat on a bench in the City Hall grounds, a simple but satisfying lunch, and a convenient spot to sit and watch Belfast go by.

We concluded that the Crown’s early rush was probably down to stag and hen parties using it as their first meeting point. It certainly felt like the sort of place you’d want to start a big day out, even if 11:30 is a touch early for some.

Back to the ship — and an unexpected delay

We caught the shuttle bus back to the cruise terminal and browsed the small quayside shop for souvenirs. Departure was slightly delayed: a rock had become jammed in the prongs of the ship’s anchor. Lowering and raising it didn’t help, so a mobile crane was brought in to remove the offending stone. Once freed, Ambience was soon on her way again, heading south.

We spent the next day cruising steadily southwards, before arriving the following morning in the lovely little town of Cobh — a place we’d visited on our first round‑Britain cruise the year before.

A few facts & figures about the Crown Liquor Saloon

Located on Great Victoria Street, the Crown is a Grade A listed Victorian gin palace, renowned for its extravagant interior and exterior decoration. Together with Liverpool’s Philharmonic and the Vines, the Crown is one of the UK’s three most spectacular pubs. Built in the 1840s, it was refitted in late Victorian times.

Originally opened as The Railway Tavern in 1826. The pub was renamed and lavishly refurbished in 1885 by Patrick Flanagan, who employed Italian church craftsmen to create its signature tiling, stained glass, and woodwork.

Purchased by the National Trust in 1978, restored extensively, and leased to Mitchells & Butlers, who operate it under the Nicholson’s brand. The pub contains ten snugs, each with original bell systems used to summon staff. The snugs were designed for privacy during the Victorian era.

The exterior is covered in polychromatic tiles, including the famous mosaic crown in the entrance, which is the source of the joke that visitors “trample on the British Crown.” The bar retains gas lamps on its ornate carved ceilings, contributing to its atmospheric period feel. The stained-glass windows feature painted shells, fairies, pineapples, fleurs‑de‑lis, and clowns. There is also a substantial amount of decorative acid-etched glasswork.

Conclusion

The Crown is definitely worth seeing, and for a dedicated pub man like me, it was like being in heritage pub heaven. On that score, alone, it was well worth the trip into Belfast City centre, and if you love classic pubs with equal devotion to my own, this is the absolute “Crown” as far as British and Irish pubs are concerned.

Our recent round Britain cruise: a few notes from the journey

2026-09-12T15:35:24.952+01:00

In case anyone was wondering, my most recent post relating to my drinking habits and early pub experiences, was written before we set off on our recent round‑Britain cruise. I’d sketched out the bare bones of the article, but there simply wasn’t sufficient time to “polish it” - no chance to add the bold text that certain readers so much adore, and no opportunity to drop in the photos, most of which are still on my phone. Additionally, there was certainly no time for a proper re-read, prior to hitting the “publish” button. So now that we’re back, what of the voyage we’ve just returned from?

For those paying attention, Mrs PBT’s and I embarked on a ten‑day cruise around the British Isles. The official title was “Highlights of the British Isles,” and our route took us from Tilbury, the home port of Ambassador Cruise Lines, up to the Orkney Islands, then down to the Hebrides, including the islands of both Lewis and Mull. From there we headed across the Irish Sea to Belfast. After leaving Ulster, our ship sailed down to Cobh in the Republic of Ireland, the port for nearby Cork, which is southern Ireland’s second‑largest city.

An evening’s south-easterly cruising brought us to the Isles of Scilly, that small, sub-tropical archipelago off the south-west tip of England. From the Scillies, we enjoyed a slow, scenic sail home, hugging the coasts of south-west and southern England before joining the shipping lanes that funnel traffic through the English Channel. This meant crossing over to the French side of La Manche and followed the coastline for a while, before heading back to Blighty in the early hours of Thursday morning. We then picked up the local pilot and entered the Thames estuary, arriving in back Tilbury in good time for an early disembarkation.

Those who’ve been following the blog, will know this was our second round‑Britain cruise. The first took place in May, last year, aboard the Queen Anne, travelling anticlockwise. That itinerary included Leith (Edinburgh), Invergordon, Stornoway, and Greenock, before heading down to Liverpool. From Liverpool we crossed the Irish Sea to Cobh and then returned to Southampton. A similar itinerary, but different towns, different cities, and different experiences. Both cruises were good, and both were distinct in their own way — so I’m not going to start making comparisons.

Highlights

There were plenty. Kirkwall, in the Orkney Islands, was a delight - a lovely little town, untouched and unsullied by many of the 21st‑century woes that afflict mainland Britain (litter and mindless graffiti, posing as art). Stornoway was enjoyable too, even though our visit was practically identical to our previous visit, last May.

Mull was different, and very enjoyable. I’ve got enough notes to write a separate post about the visit I made to Tobermory, the island’s largest settlement, so I shan’t elaborate too much, here. But with no suitable berth for even a relatively small cruise-ship, passengers were ferried ashore by tender — essentially a repurposed lifeboat — landing at the east side of the town. Mrs PBT’s didn’t join me for that one, and despite her absence I enjoyed a smashing day wandering around Tobermory, with its gaily painted houses, shops, bars, and restaurants. Sunshine, wind, colour, atmosphere, and more, and all spot on!

Belfast was a complete contrast and represented a first visit for both of us. I’m pleased to report that Belfast is a thriving, dynamic city, full of recent developments and new investment. It’s a city that’s clearly determined to put the infamous “Troubles” firmly behind it. We called in for a drink at the famous, "CAMRA Heritage" Crown Liquor Saloon, a pub which met all our expectations, and more, although surprisingly, at just after 11.30 am, the place was absolutely heaving, and incredibly busy. (More about the Crown in a separate post).

We didn’t do anything overly ambitious in Cobh, just a stroll along the waterfront, a sit‑down overlooking the sea, a bit of shopping, and a visit to a different Irish pub from last time. Not Professor Pie Tin’s former local, I’m afraid, but quite close to it, and it must be said that the Rob Roy was a cracking place that served an excellent pint of Murphy’s. Murphy’s, of course, being one of Cork’s two rival breweries that challenge Guinness’s hegemony. In common with a number of fellow cruisers, we sat outside at one of several tables and watched the world go by.

The Isles of Scilly were another story. The transfer ashore involved an open boat belonging to local fishermen rather than a ship’s tender, and with choppy seas I decided to give St Mary’s a miss. I’ve got a few regrets about that, and perhaps I made the wrong call, especially as conditions had calmed down by the time the transfer boats were running steadily. But I really didn’t fancy the two, 30-minute crossings, sitting on an uncomfortable wooden seat, bouncing about in the swell – and that’s coming from someone who doesn’t suffer from seasickness! There’s always next time, although perhaps not?

A Few Final Thoughts

Ambassador Cruise Lines’ Ambience is obviously quite different from Cunard’s Queen Anne, and whilst there are aspects of the former that I prefer, there are also things I missed from the Cunard vessel. You can’t have everything, and in summary, both round‑Britain voyages were interesting, enjoyable, and memorable. The later one was blessed with mainly fine weather, unlike the first, where Liverpool, in particular, gave us a couple of very wet days, but that’s the “joy” of cruising in home waters!

A reflection on drinking habits, family history, and changing times

2026-09-11T13:00:26.906+01:00

I’m not entirely sure what to make of recent reports about declining alcohol consumption, and it’s hard to know what exactly is really driving the change. Are we witnessing a genuine cultural shift in attitudes and behaviour, as some commentators suggest? Or are more practical factors at play, such as the high price of a drink today compared with 40 or 50 years ago, when people of my generation first started going to pubs?

I didn’t grow up in a household where alcohol was freely available. Neither of my parents drank. My maternal grandparents, however, both enjoyed a tipple: my grandfather favoured bottled pale and brown ale, while my grandmother preferred gin. Her story is particularly interesting. Raised in the Welsh Valleys by strict, chapel‑going Methodist parents, she never touched a drop until she moved to London to work in service. She told me she was horrified to discover that my grandfather enjoyed a few pints, and her first visit to a pub - somewhere in north-west London, Hampstead quite probably, was a shock. It was a proper spit‑and‑sawdust place, nothing like the genteel surroundings she’d imagined. Despite that rocky introduction, both grandparents came to enjoy a drink and were no strangers to the pub.

Things were very different on my father’s side. Neither of his parents drank, though I’m not entirely sure why. My paternal grandfather originally came from South Africa and arrived in Britain during the First World War to fight for "King and Country". He was injured somewhere on the Western Front and invalided out of the services. I never saw any sign of lasting injury, but it wasn’t something one talked about at the time, and I never thought it appropriate to ask my father. My Granny Bailey was something of an enigma, and whilst, as a child, I was very fond of her, I knew little about her background. She dressed in a distinctly old‑fashioned way that’s best described as late Edwardian. If you’ve ever watched Dad’s Army, my grandmother resembled those elderly ladies who pestered Jack Jones the Walmington-on-Sea butcher, although she also bore a resemblance to Godfrey’s sisters, Sissy and Dolly.

Fast‑forward to my late teens, and I became the family member who broke the mould - the “black sheep”, if you like, when I discovered the pleasures of going to the pub and enjoying a decent pint. This was much to my mother’s horror and my father’s indifference. During my student years and well into my twenties, pub‑going and beer drinking were regular fixtures in my life. When I lived in Maidstone, I’d wander down to the nearest pub, which was one just around the corner, and spend an hour or two knocking back two, or sometimes three pints in an evening. I doubt I was unusual in that.

Later, when life changed and I moved from wife No.1 to wife No. 2, my drinking habits shifted, at the same time. Eileen has never been much of a pub‑goer, and whilst we’re chalk and cheese in that respect, we get along perfectly well in most other respects. My involvement with CAMRA ensured I still got out for a few pints, and on quieter evenings I’d enjoy draught beer at home, initially from the nearby Priory Wines Cellars, off‑licence in Tonbridge, and later, when I changed jobs and began commuting to and working in Lewes, direct from Harvey’s Brewery. I’d regularly visit the Harvey’s shop to fill my plastic, 4-pint container with freshly drawn Best Bitter or whatever seasonal beer they had on tap, and this situation continued for a number of years.

Over the last few decades, my consumption has dropped considerably, especially since our son was born. It’s now quite rare for me to go out in the evenings, and I also no longer have a “local”. If I did, it would be the Nelson Arms in Tonbridge, even though it is a bit of a hike: thirty minutes there, forty minutes back. This is probably just as well, health-wise. Instead, I might have a small can or bottle in the evening, but my alcohol consumption has definitely declined. The health lobby would say that’s a good thing, although brewers and publicans might disagree.

What I haven't included here are the years – the best part of a decade, when I was a committed home brewer. I ended up as a pretty a good well, and accomplished brewer producing full mash (all-grain), and well-hopped beers on a plant that I'd cobbled together in our lean-to garage. Once every four to six weeks, I’d churn out five gallons of eminently drinkable home brew, in styles that ranged from pale ales and bitters to strong, winter ales, with practically everything in between. Once primary and secondary fermentation were finished the beer would be racked into polypins that were kept cool, out in the garage. The whole process was a real labour of love, and but it was something I enjoyed, and found very satisfying. However, it was rather time consuming and invariably involved an early start - to get the mash. That was then followed by running off the sweet wort, into the second hand, stainless steel Burco-boiler, that I picked up in a junk-shop. Sparging (look in up!) then followed, before a rolling, 90-minute boil, which was when the hops were added. Cooling and fermentation then followed, and in approximately three weeks’ time, the beer was ready to drink.

Things changed when we had an extension built on the side of the house. The garage disappeared, to form a new kitchen and adjoining dining room, with a new bedroom and bathroom built up above. That was the end of my home brewing which, although a shame in some respects, did give me freedom to do other things. This was important, because from start to finish, the process was quite time consuming. I also hate to think how high our electricity bill must have been at the time, as boiling 5 gallons of wort, for a period of around 90 minutes, must have consumed a lot of energy.

Somewhere at home, I've got a brewing log detailing the various beers I produced over the years, and I must try and find it sometime, as there was a substantial amount. I started out using books edited by the late Dave Line, who was one of pioneers of mashing at home – as opposed to brewing using malt extract. I later switched to the CAMRA sponsored, home brewing series, written by Graham Wheeler. There's plenty of opportunity here for some further articles about home - brewing which I might get round to writing, once I fully retire.

Finally, and quite by chance, I met a character on our most recent cruise, who was a dedicated full-mash, home brewer. We also met his wife who, came across as not being quite so keen on her husband’s “hobby”! It was good chatting to this individual, as well as encouraging to learn that there are still home-brewers out there, dedicated to keeping this ancient craft alive.

Off cruising again

2026-08-29T17:54:26.131+01:00

Well for the second morning this week, we've woken to some much needed, and very welcome rain. It’s still raining now, which is good news not just for gardeners but also because it will help replenish dwindling water supplies. Without wishing to appear over virtuous, we have tried to limit our use of water a number of small ways. Still, every little helps as "the lady that pissed in the sea" said, but moving swiftly on, we’re banking on the rain stopping for Bank Holiday Monday and beyond.

This is because Mrs PBT's and I are off on another jolly. It's a Round Britain cruise similar to the one that we did a couple of years ago on Cunard’s Queen Anne. This time, we're sailing on the smaller Ambience cruise ship, operated by Ambassador Cruises, and whilst it’s a similar route, the itinerary, is quite different, as the only ports that will be duplicated are Stornoway in the Hebrides, and Cobh in southern Ireland, pronounced "Cove”, as we’ve recently discovered.

The cruise will take us to destinations
like Belfast, Kirkwall in the Orkney Isles, Tobermory in Mull, plus St Mary Port in the Isles of Scilly. Landing at the latter two destinations depends rather on weather conditions, as we’ll be leaving the boat by tender. Effectively this means one of the ship's lifeboats will transfer passengers ashore from the ship, because there aren't adequate birthing facilities at these two destinations.

I've been looking at pubs in these destinations and the Crown Liquor Saloon is the obvious must visit stop, in Belfast. It’s facing competition though, as Mrs PBT's has her sights set on the Titanic Belfast set in the docks area of the port. This is highly appropriate, as the doomed ocean liner was built at the nearby Harland and Wolff shipyards. There’s obviously sufficient time to enjoy both attractions and perhaps experience a bit of the city as well. An Irish colleague of mine isn’t over enamoured with Belfast, but as she’s a Derry girl, that’s perhaps understandable.

That’s Belfast sorted, but I’d welcome recommendations for classic and unspoilt pubs in Kirkwall, Stornoway, Tobermory, and the Scilly Isles. (Cobh is already sorted, with a visit to Professor Pie Tin’s former local). As for Mull, it’s an island that I’ve visited before, back in my student days, when I took part in a Botany field course. That was at the end of the second-year summer term, which saw us camping out in the grounds of a faded, former stately home. We spent two weeks on the island pretending to be botanists, and as a break from looking at the local flora, we nipped across to Iona, a small island just off the western tip of Mull, with a much greater religious significance, due to its connections with early Celtic Christianity. However, with a two hour journey by road, each way I won't be doing that again, although I noticed that the cruise line is offering excursions across to Iona, from Mull.

It’s worth mentioning that whilst Ambassador is a budget cruise line, the price of this particular cruise wasn't as good value as the voyage we experienced earlier in the year. That, of course, was our cruise to Norway – the one with the strong winds, high seas, and stormy conditions. Mrs PBT's is keen on it this trip and I too am looking forward to what will be a welcome break, especially after all the brown stuff that’s been flying around recently at work. As with the Norwegian voyage, Ambience is sailing from Tilbury so, Bank Holiday traffic willing, it should be a relatively straight forward drive, from Bailey Towers.

I doubt that I'll be posting much, if anything, whilst we're away in view of the previous IT issues I've had with password recognition, Wi-Fi connectivity etc, but I shall be taking a good old-fashioned notebook with me, to record the salient parts. It will be good too to enjoy a digital detox, although as my good, lady wife is an unashamed telly addict I doubt I'll get much relief from the incessant outpouring of so-called “news” coming from the cabin’s TV.

Finally, I shall be taking a couple of books with me, although rather than the usual works of fiction, both are biographies of two very contrasting people.

Stalin’s Englishman: The Lives of Guy Burgess by Andrew Lownie is widely praised as the first truly comprehensive, deeply researched biography of Guy Burgess, one of the five infamous "Cambridge Spies" who betrayed their country to the Soviet Union, both before and after World War II. Burgess leaked high‑level intelligence, which influenced major events, from the Nazi–Soviet Pact to the Korean War and comes across as one of Britain’s most chaotic yet effective spies. He was also a right shit, by all accounts, although I shall reserve judgement until I have finished the book.

Too Close to the Sun: The Audacious Life and Times of Denys Finch Hatton is widely regarded as an atmospheric, and well researched biography of one of the most enigmatic figures of colonial East Africa. Author, Sara Wheeler reveals a fully knowable man, who nonetheless remains elusive, despite the myth, and the magnetic charm that made him legendary. During his time in East Africa, Hatton enjoyed a passionate relationship with Danish settler, coffee grower and author, Karen Blixen, who wrote about her experiences in the best seller, "Out of Africa".

What future for CAMRA amidst financial losses and falling membership, as cask ale volumes continue to decline

2026-08-27T21:05:19.057+01:00

Despite its position as one of the UK’s most influential consumer organisations, the Campaign for Real Ale (CAMRA) is confronting one of the most challenging periods in its 55‑year history. The group has reported significant financial losses, shrinking membership, and a rapidly changing beer market that threatens the future of traditional cask ale - the very product CAMRA was founded to protect.

The Campaign’s latest accounts show the organisation ended 2025 with a substantial operating deficit, driven by rising costs and declining revenue from festivals, publications, and membership fees. The financial strain has forced CAMRA to cancel a number of major events, including the Great British Beer Festival and its Winter counterpart, after both failed to attract sufficient visitors to break even.

Membership numbers have also fallen sharply and now stand at 143,038 - an eight‑year low. For a variety of reasons, numbers are unlikely to return to pre‑pandemic levels, something the Campaign is slowly coming to terms with. The cost‑of‑living crisis has made the £35 annual fee harder to justify for many drinkers, while the steady decline of cask ale in pubs has reduced the traditional benefits (beer vouchers, discounts) that CAMRA offers its members. On top of this, pubs are closing at a rate of two to three per day, reducing further the number of venues that serve cask,

These internal pressures reflect wider industry trends. Cask ale volumes have dropped for two consecutive years, (7.1% in 2025, after an 11.2% drop in 2024), as younger drinkers switch to lager, craft keg, and low/no‑alcohol beers. As if these factors were not enough, CAMRA’s membership base is ageing, as the organisation struggles to attract newer blood. In the meantime, multinational brewers are tightening their grip on the bar, offering tied deals and supply packages that make it harder for independent breweries to secure space for their beers on the taps. CAMRA warns that this creates an “illusion of choice” for drinkers, with many brands ultimately owned by the same large companies.

In a somewhat muted response, the Campaign has begun a programme of restructuring and cost‑cutting, which includes reductions in staff and a shift toward digital publishing, although these measures were to some extent, already in place before things started to go pear-shaped. The organisation admits it must adapt quickly to safeguard its future, but the challenges ahead are deep and structural.

Whether CAMRA can reinvent itself, and whether cask ale can regain momentum among younger drinkers, remains uncertain. What is clear is that the organisation is entering a pivotal moment, one that may define its role in Britain’s beer culture for decades to come. The Campaign ended the 2025 financial year almost £800,000 in the red before tax, an unusually severe loss for a membership‑based consumer organisation, and one which will be difficult to recover from – if it does at all!

Pub Passports - a vanished phenomenon, or one that's worthy of a comeback?

2026-08-23T14:07:40.118+01:00

Following on from my previous article about biting the bullet and retiring completely from my current part-time job, I received a number of suggestions about how to enjoy the additional time I’ll be granted. First and foremost, amongst these was a slightly facetious suggestion from an anonymous correspondent that I could try drinking in all the Shepherd Neame pubs during my first twelve months of retirement.

My response was that I’ve been there, and done that, even though it was over 40 years ago. It was a ~~labour of love~~ slog back then and having experienced the mad dash of getting round all 286 Shepherd Neame houses, it is not an experience I’d care to repeat. However, that’s not to say that it’s a topic I don’t wish to write about, as I certainly do, but the trouble is where to start?

Pub passport schemes is an area that isn’t particularly well documented, and with my memory of events that occurred four decades or so ago, I wasn’t sure where to start, which is why I turned to AI, and specifically, Copilot, to come up with the facts. This AI platform certainly delivered, because in less time than it took me to type in the question, the software came up with the following detailed response, that I’ve reproduced, in full, below. The answers may surprise some of you, they did me – to a certain extent, but most importantly the narrative not only rang true, but also brought back memories of frantic days spent dashing all over Kent, as well as the borders of some of the adjacent counties.

Here’s a full, structured article on the pub “passport” schemes of the 1980's and 1990's - the quirky, charming, and very British marketing tradition that independent brewers used to get people exploring their tied estates.

Pub Passport Schemes: when independent brewers turned pub‑going into an adventure

During the 1980s and 1990s, long before craft beer culture exploded and social media made every pint a photo opportunity, independent brewers across Britain were quietly running one of the most inventive marketing ideas the industry has ever seen: pub passport schemes. These were playful, collectible, surprisingly competitive programmes designed to encourage drinkers to explore a brewery’s tied houses — and they became a beloved part of pub culture for thousands of enthusiasts.

What was a Pub Passport?

A pub passport was exactly what it sounded like: a small booklet, usually pocket‑sized, issued by a brewery. Each page represented one of the brewery’s pubs. When a drinker visited a pub and bought a pint (or sometimes just asked nicely), the landlord would stamp the passport. Collect enough stamps and you’d earn rewards — anything from enamel badges and T‑shirts to brewery tours, limited‑edition beers, or even entry into prize draws.

It was "gamification" before the word existed. And it worked.

Why independent brewers loved them

The 1980's and 1990's were turbulent decades for British brewing. Consolidation was rampant. Big national brewers were swallowing smaller ones, and tied estates were constantly changing hands. Independent regional brewers — names like Shepherd Neame, Hall & Woodhouse, Adnam’s, Everards, Arkell’s, Robinsons, and Harvey’s -needed ways to keep drinkers loyal and to differentiate themselves from the corporate giants.

Pub passports offered:

· A reason to visit multiple pubs, not just the local.

· A sense of community and belonging, especially among beer enthusiasts.

· A way to showcase the variety of their estates, from rural coaching inns to quirky town-centre boozers.

· A low-cost promotional tool, relying on fun rather than heavy advertising.

For many breweries, passports became a yearly tradition — updated designs, new prizes, and sometimes special “passport ales” brewed to accompany the scheme.

The culture around collecting

Pub passport collecting developed its own subculture. Some drinkers treated it casually, filling pages over months. Others approached it with near‑military precision, planning weekend expeditions to tick off remote pubs.

Stories from the era include:

· Drinkers hiring minibuses to complete entire counties in a day.

· Passport clubs forming, complete with newsletters and meet-ups.

· Friendly rivalries between collectors comparing stamp counts.

· Landlords designing their own quirky stamps — everything from hop flowers to cartoon sheep.

For many, the joy wasn’t the prize at the end but the journey: discovering hidden pubs, meeting new people, and experiencing the full character of a brewery’s estate.

A tool for pub tourism before it had a name

Pub passports also unintentionally supported local tourism. They encouraged people to explore villages, market towns, and rural areas they might never otherwise visit. Some local councils even partnered with brewers, recognising the schemes as a way to bring visitors into their communities.

In coastal areas, passports often included scenic walking routes linking pubs. In rural counties, they became unofficial guides to countryside inns. In cities, they offered curated pub crawls long before apps did the same.

Why the schemes faded

By the late 1990's and early 2000's, pub passport schemes began to decline. Several factors contributed:

· The Beer Orders of 1989, which reshaped the tied-house system and disrupted traditional brewery estates.

· Increasing consolidation, reducing the number of independent brewers with large, tied estates.

· The rise of guest beers, making brewery loyalty less central to drinkers.

· Digital marketing, which replaced physical booklets with online campaigns.

· Changing drinking habits, with fewer people undertaking large pub crawls.

Some breweries kept the tradition alive into the 2000's, but the golden age of pub passports was undeniably the 80's and 90's.

Legacy and modern echoes

Though the original schemes have mostly disappeared, their spirit lives on:

· CAMRA ale trails, often run at beer festivals or across local branches.

· City beer passports, now common in places like London, Leeds, and Manchester.

· Craft brewery taproom trails, encouraging visits to multiple venues.

· Digital stamp apps, which mimic the old booklet experience.

But for many who remember them, nothing quite matches the charm of a physical passport, a fresh stamp, and the satisfaction of completing a brewery’s entire estate!

Why they matter today

Pub passport schemes represent a moment in British beer history when independent brewers used creativity rather than scale to compete. They celebrated exploration, community, and the simple joy of discovering a new pub.

In an era where pubs face unprecedented challenges, the nostalgia surrounding these schemes is more than sentiment — it’s a reminder of how imaginative, local, and human the pub trade can be.

So, a well-thought-out response, and one that is more far-reaching and enlightening than anything I could have come up with. I’d still be interested to know if readers (of a certain age), have experiences of this phenomenon that they’d like to share, or whether they feel that pub passport schemes could still play a role in keeping pubs and pub culture in the minds of the general public.

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!