Paul's Beer & Travel Blog

A new continent beckons

2026-11-08T22:20:53.038+00:00

Next week, Mrs PBT's and I are off on yet another cruise. That makes three this year, which perhaps sounds a little indulgent, even though the reality is that we're making the most of the opportunity while we can. As I've already mentioned, next year I shall be saying farewell to full-time work, and at the moment that's pencilled in for some time during March. However, whether the final date proves to be the beginning or the end of the month remains to be seen.

I've even started doing some of the more boring retirement-related calculations, and have also been checking pension values, looking at what lump sums I might be entitled to and, most importantly, trying to work out how to avoid handing too much over in tax. As one reader on the blog has already reminded me, that's something worth paying attention to. Having looked at the figures, I think we'll be fairly comfortable, particularly when savings are taken account of, as well.

Anyway, that's not really the purpose, or indeed subject of this post, because the main focus is on our upcoming cruise. Also, in what will be a first for both of us, we'll finally be visiting a completely new continent. Between us, we've covered a fair bit of Europe and we've both travelled in North America, namely to the United States and Canada. I've also been fortunate enough to visit both Japan and China, giving me at least a small taste of Asia. Next week, however, we'll be setting foot in Africa for the very first time, and it’s something we're both very much looking forward to.

Our destination is Morocco, situated on the north-western edge of the vast continent of Africa. Although we will only be visiting a single country, we shall be calling at three different ports along its coastline. Our first stop will be Agadir, a city about which I know virtually nothing – although thanks to the Internet, I’m catching up fast. From there we'll continue north to Casablanca before finishing in Tangier.

En route to Morocco, we’ll be enjoying three days at sea before stopping off at Madeira, Tenerife and Lanzarote. Both Eileen and I have visited Madeira before, while I've previously been to Lanzarote, albeit many years ago. Tenerife, however, will be a completely new Canary Island for both of us. On our return journey we'll make a brief call into Lisbon (let’s wish for better weather this time), before heading back to Southampton.

This voyage also marks our return to Cunard after a two-cruise dalliance with Ambassador. We actually booked this trip around 18 months ago, and it's been paid for in instalments over several months. We've found that to be the easiest and most cost-effective way of managing cruise payments, particularly as Cunard doesn't charge any interest for doing so. In fact, we booked the voyage whilst on board Queen Victoria back in 2025.

Booking on board brings a number of advantages. Not only do you often secure a better fare, but there are usually a few extra incentives thrown in as well. On this particular cruise we've both received a generous amount of onboard credit, and it's the sort of thing that feels wasted if you don't spend it – literally, as any unused balance can’t be rolled over. Realistically, that means excursions, as unless you're buying drinks or accumulating an impressive collection of souvenirs, there aren't too many other ways of using it. Trinkets have never really been my thing, so I suspect most of our “on-board spending money” will disappear on shore excursions.

As for Morocco itself, I'm not quite sure what to expect. I've done a little reading about the country and, as it happens, the company I work for has, for many years, conducted a fair amount of business there, so I at least have some background knowledge of the place. Being a predominantly Muslim country, I'm curious to see what the local drinking culture is like – if it exists at all. I rather suspect we won't be enjoying a few drinks in Rick's Café, whilst in Casablanca, but you never know!

More than anything, we're looking forward to experiencing a culture that we've both read about but never encountered first-hand. That's one of the great pleasures of travel: seeing places for yourself rather than simply reading about them in books or watching them on television. We'll also be returning to the good old Queen Victoria, fresh from a refit. Ours will be only the ship's second voyage since re-entering service, so it'll be interesting to see what changes have been made. A full report will undoubtedly follow in due course, but not until we return to the UK – see reasons, below.

There probably won't be much blogging whilst we're away, as I've learnt my lesson when it comes to battling unreliable, and expensive shipboard internet connections. Trying to upload a post from halfway across the Atlantic, whilst having to change yet another password, is more trouble than it’s worth, and only causes additional problems when I’m finally back home. Instead, I'll revert to the old-fashioned method: a notebook, a pen and plenty of scribbled observations.

Once I'm home, I'll dictate everything straight onto my computer hard drive, tidy it up and turn it into something vaguely readable. I might even ask AI to lend a hand; not because I'm short of ideas, but because sometimes it's useful to smooth out the rough edges, correcting the odd dictation error and turning a collection of notes into something more coherent.

Before all that, though, I've got one more day at work, but agreeing to that final day helped secure this extended sixteen-day break, so I can't really complain. One aspect of the trip I'm particularly looking forward to is escaping the ever-increasing Christmas build-up. Being in countries where Christmas isn't celebrated in quite the same way, or where it occupies a far less prominent place in public life, should make for a refreshing change.

Like many people, I've already begun to notice the relentless appearance of Christmas merchandise in the shops and the annual repetition of the same festive songs on the radio. It won’t be long before the constant bombardment starts to feel rather overwhelming, which is why it will be good, escaping from it. So, until I return, that's me signing off. If anyone happens to know of any particularly good bars, cafés or other must-visit spots in Agadir, Casablanca or Tangier, recommendations would be very welcome.

The opening of a new chapter, for Shepherd Neame

2026-11-05T19:51:39.272+00:00

It seems strange that barely three weeks after my visit to Faversham, that leading Kent brewer, Shepherd Neame would unveil ambitious plans to secure the future of brewing in the town. The announcement was accompanied, by news of a £15 million investment in a new, modern brewery that will reshape the company’s historic operations while retaining brewing at the heart of the town. The proposal represents one of the most significant changes in Shepherd Neame’s recent history and reflects how Britain's oldest brewer is adapting to a rapidly changing beer market.

Rather than constructing a brewery on a new site, Shepherd Neame intends to convert its existing bottling hall into a state-of-the-art brewing facility. The bottling operation is expected to close in 2027, with the new brewery completed by the end of 2029. Brewing will continue in the current plant while construction and conversion work takes place. The new brewery will not only be smaller than the existing operation but also far more efficient. Company executives have emphasised that the project is designed to improve quality, sustainability and operational flexibility, enabling the brewer to respond more effectively to changing consumer tastes and develop new products. The new plant will continue to use some existing infrastructure, including the famous artesian well that has supplied water to the brewery for generations.

A key element of the strategy is a renewed focus on Shepherd Neame's own beers. The company plans to move away from the large-scale contract brewing, which has been the backbone of the business over recent decades, and to concentrate production on its own core brands such as Spitfire, Bishops Finger and Whitstable Bay. One example of this is the termination of Shepherd Neame’s long-standing licence to brew and distribute Singha Lager in the UK, which will come to an end in April 2027. Originating in Thailand, Singha is an important lager brand in the lucrative Asian restaurant market, but one where volume has become the driving factor. Other contract brands in this category include Kingfisher, Samuel Adams and Hürlimann's, although the latter was for many years, Shepherd Neame’s premium pager brand.

The brewery project forms part of a wider ten-year vision for the historic Faversham site, where Shepherd Neame intends to reduce its footprint to a "Heritage Core" centred on the brewery's most historic buildings behind Court Street. Plans include enhanced visitor facilities, hospitality and event spaces, retail outlets, a new pub, offices and the creation of a public open area known as Brewery Square. The aim is to create what the company describes as a unique "brand home" that celebrates its brewing heritage while attracting more visitors to the town.

For beer enthusiasts and local residents alike, the announcement is significant. While the scheme acknowledges the challenges facing the brewing industry, including declining beer volumes and rising costs, it also demonstrates Shepherd Neame's commitment to keeping brewing in Faversham for generations to come. This is an important factor when viewed against some of the rumours circulating a month or so ago, which claimed that the company was looking at abandoning brewing altogether. So, after more than three centuries after brewing began on the site, the company is betting that a leaner, more modern brewery will ensure that Kent's most famous brewer remains rooted in its historic home well into the future.

This is definitely good news as far as local jobs and businesses are concerned, although from my own, personal point of view it ought to come with a caveat attached. The later would take the form of the company altering the recipes, especially those of its cask ales. I know that I am not the only Kentish drinker to think so, but whilst this family brewery has a fine range of attractive and traditional pubs, beers such as Master Brew, Spitfire, and Late Red really lend themselves as open to improvement.

I’ve written on the blandness of many of the company’s cask beers, ad nauseam, and I can categorically confirm this was NOT the case 40 years or so, ago! Some drinkers claim that the beers are over attenuated, in so much that any residual malt sugar remaining in the finished pint, has been attacked by the house yeast, and turned into alcohol and CO2. In other words, the beers are fermented right out, leaving them lacking balance, body and above all flavour. With a new, and leaner brewing plant in the offing, surely now is the time to revamp the tired old recipes and give Kentish drinkers the beers they truly deserve, and can be realy proud of?

The Man of Kent at Little Mill

2026-11-02T22:51:00.017+00:00

As hinted at in the previous post, I notched up another “unique” pub for my collection, last Friday. The pub in question was the Man of Kent, at Little Mill, East Peckham, which reopened a couple of months ago, following a period of closure, that began at the start of this year. The Man of Kent was a pub that I’d been meaning to revisit for some time and would have done so earlier if other things hadn’t got in the way.

Dating back to the late 16^th century, the Man of Kent occupies a picturesque setting beside the River Bourne at Little Mill, a small settlement on the edge of East Peckham. With its low oak beams, roaring fireplace and waterside terraces, it remains one of the most attractive traditional pubs in the Tonbridge & Malling area. Described as a charming old free house with a cosy atmosphere and a good reputation for both cask ale and food.

For many years the pub has been the venue chosen by Mrs PBT’s and a group of her girly friends, for their annual, pre-Christmas get together. Unfortunately, the group were left feeling disappointed when the Man of Kent closed on 23 February 2026, following the departure of long-serving licensees, Neil and Shelly, after 18 years running the pub. The
pub then remained closed for almost four months before reopening under new publicans Jamie Rogers and Millie Jenkins on 18th June this year.

According to the local press, the reopening of the Man of Kent, has been warmly welcomed by locals and visitors alike, restoring one of the area's most cherished village pubs to its rightful place at the heart of the community. The new licensees have spoken of their desire to build on the pub's long-standing reputation as a welcoming community hub. In addition, they have pledged to maintain the character that made the pub so popular. They also want to re-establish the Man of Kent as a focal point for village life, with ambitions for live music, beer festivals and support for local produce and Kent breweries.

For many residents, the reopening represents far more than the return of a pub; it marks the revival of a much-loved meeting place that has been serving travellers, locals and visitors for decades, if not centuries. With this in mind, how could I not make that long planned return visit to the Man of Kent? The 208 Go Bus service operates at hourly intervals between Henwood Green, a small village close to Pembury, and East Peckham, conveniently running through Tonbridge on both the outward and homeward journeys. However, the fact that the midday service from Tonbridge Castle, wasn’t exactly the best start to my trip.

I persevered, and eventually the us turned up, albeit with no explanation from the driver. It is an approximate 17-minute journey from Tonbridge to Little Mill, a 17^th century mill house on the edge of the large, sprawling village of East Peckham. It had been a while since my last visit, but after stepping off the bus and walking the short distance to the pub, it seemed that thankfully, little had changed internally. There was around half dozen or so cars parked outside, and whilst the two bars weren’t exactly packed out, they weren’t empty either.

One thing about the Man of Kent that even short arses like me have to look out for, are the incredibly low ceilings. Despite being aware of this, I still managed to knock my head a couple of times. Were people really shorter in stature 400 years ago, or did they just scrimp on building materials? The lack of headroom at the Man of Kent, is a feature that Mrs PBT’s really isn’t keen on, and she’s not exactly that much taller than me. The other aspect that is immediately apparent upon stepping inside, is the large, open fireplace dividing the front part of the main bar, with just about sufficient space to squeeze by either side.

There were three cask ales on offer, Taylor’s Landlord, the ubiquitous Harvey’s Best, plus a beer from Tonbridge Brewery. I opted for the Landlord, which was drinking well. I waited until I was back in Tonbridge, as the food available in the bar was a little on the dear side. As regular readers will know, the price of bar food in this part of the south-east, is a regular gripe of mine, but the cost didn’t seem to put off the two parties that were eating in the pub.

And that’s about it really, apart from saying there was only a 10-minute wait for the bus back, rather than a 20 minute one. The journey itself, takes you though some very pleasant rural countryside, as well as the village of Golden Green, home to the Bell, public house, an establishment that seems to be getting some good, online reviews, and a place that I’ve bookmarked for a future trip out on the 208 bus.

November and already, the clock is ticking

2026-11-01T20:48:04.911+00:00

I’m slacking somewhat in my quest to break my record of visiting as many “unique” pubs as possible, especially after hitting the magic 100 at the middle of last month. Some might accuse me of “resting on my laurels”, although in self-defence, I’ve had several other distractions that I’ve had to attach more importance to.

The first of these is my impending retirement which, after 50 years of being a wage slave, can’t come quick enough. I mentioned previously how, after a few, ill-conceived changes within the company, has managed to completely change the dynamics of the organisation. The end result being, the place is no longer somewhere that I enjoy attending, and whilst with the benefit of that wonderful thing called “hindsight”, it would have been sensible two years ago, when I was approaching that biblical milepost of “three-score years, and ten”, but it was not to be.

Life is full of “should have done” and “ought to have done”, but I didn’t, and it’s been quite a sharp learning curve getting myself up to speed with the world of company pensions. This is really practical stuff that ought to be taught at school, but of course it isn’t. So, after immersing myself in the world of annuities, pension drawdowns, deferment, and more that a bit of crystal ball-gazing, I’m finally seeing some clarity.

I’ve set a provisional retirement date of the start of March 2027, and whilst I’ve dropped a few hints to a few of my more trustworthy colleagues, I haven’t yet handed in my notice. This brings me on to the other distraction, which is our upcoming cruise, the third one of the year, and also the longest. I won’t go into too much detail here, although I expect I shall upon our return. Suffice to say I shall only be taking one suitcase, as opposed to my wife’s three.

We shall probably need to cut our cloth accordingly, once I do depart from the world of work, but like this forthcoming voyage, which has been paid off on a monthly basis, the same applies to the sailing booked for next June. Nevertheless, I’m looking forward to taking more short breaks closer to home, and the freedom and mobility afforded by not being tied to a particular employer, the UK will be our oyster, alongside the more occasional trip overseas.

This was meant to be the lead into a post concerning a relatively nearby pub that reopened, a few months ago, following a period of closure. It’s a heartening tale of renewal and coming back from the dead, so to speak, and it’s also a story of resilience that proves the resilience of the pub trade, despite all the pitfalls, barriers and restraints imposed on it, by modern Britain. Until next time then, where there’s something a little more in keeping with the spirit and the usual ethos of this blog.

Five more books at bedtime

2026-10-31T12:12:05.361+00:00

We return to the “Book at Bedtime” themed series which, is now in its eighth incarnation. Reading a few pages, or perhaps even a whole chapter, of a book is a great way to relax and unwind, especiallyafter a busy day, and where better to come back to earth after a hectic day, than lying in bed.

This edition features a couple of biographies, two action packed, and rather violent thrillers of the type I wouldn’t normally be interested in, plus an old favourite author in the guise of Ernest Hemingway. The books aren’t reviewed in chronological order of me reading them and actually begin with the one that I’ve just finished.

First up is "Stalin's Englishman: The Lives of Guy Burgess". Written and meticulously researched by Andrew Lownie, this fascinating biography of Guy Burgess, examines the extraordinary and contradictory life of a person, best described as deeply flawed individual, became one of the Soviet Union's most damaging Cold War spies. This was, despite, or perhaps because of him being a member of Britain's elite. Drawing on extensive research, newly available files, and interviews with people who knew him, Lownie portrays Burgess as a brilliant, charming, and charismatic figure who rose through Cambridge University, the BBC, the Foreign Office, and British intelligence while secretly working for the Soviet Union.

Guy Burgess has the dubious honour of being one of the most notorious members of the Cambridge spy ring, and Lownie’s detailed work explores how this deeply flawed figure used his intelligence, social connections, and personal charisma to gain access to highly sensitive information, passing thousands of secret documents to his Soviet handlers. The work also examines Burgess’s chaotic private life, marked by heavy drinking, scandalous behaviour, and complex personal relationships, and asks why he chose to betray his country and what impact his actions had on the Cold War. Far from depicting Burgess as a minor player among the "Cambridge Five", Lownie argues that he was one of the most influential and effective Soviet agents ever to operate within the British establishment.

I would go further and say that as well as being a traitor, Guy Burgess was an absolute shit, who seemingly drifted through life, following the route offered to the well-to-do by English high society, with an education at Eton and then Cambridge, taking full advantage of the privileges and perks offered by such an upbringing. After betraying his country, Burgess fled to the Soviet Union in 1953, along with fellow traitor and spy, Donald Maclean. He died there, 10 years later, as a result of his unhealthy lifestyle.

We then move on to a work that is a little lighter, but no less interesting, and it is another biography. This time we follow the story of Denys Finch Hatton, a complex figure, who was an adventurer, aristocrat, big-game hunter, pilot, and restless seeker of freedom, who is best remembered today through his relationship with Karen Blixen, author of "Out of Africa".

"Too Close to the Sun", by Sara Wheeler, is a compelling and well-researched biography which presents Finch Hatton as a complex and often contradictory figure, who had far more to offer the world beyond his romantic attachment to Danish settler, plantation owner and novelist, Ms Blixen. Drawing on extensive archival research, Wheeler paints a vivid picture of colonial East Africa and the social world in which Finch Hatton moved. She is careful not to romanticise either the man or the era, exploring both the glamour and the darker realities of colonial society.

The result is a portrait of a charismatic individual whose life was marked by privilege, risk-taking, and an inability to settle. Elegantly written and rich in historical detail, "Too Close to the Sun" is an absorbing read for anyone interested in African history, biography, or the real story behind "Out of Africa". Wheeler succeeds in bringing Finch Hatton out from the shadow of myth and revealing the fascinating, flawed individual beneath.

Next up is the modern thriller series, that is the Jack Reacher novels, written by prolific English author, Lee Child, and centred on the character of a former US Army Military Police major who owns little more than the clothes he is wearing, travels without a fixed home, and answers to no one. Free from the constraints of ordinary life, he can drift into trouble anywhere and confront it on his own terms. In essence, the series succeeds because Jack Reacher embodies a rare literary hero: a modern-day knight-errant, wandering from town to town, righting wrongs and moving on before the dust has settled.

Reacher’s combination of intelligence and physical strength makes him a formidable fighter, who wins as many battles through observation, logic and determination as through force. Each novel places him in a new location, facing a fresh mystery or injustice, creating a satisfying blend of detective story, action thriller and moral crusade. The books are surprisingly accessible, and their fast-paced plots, sharp dialogue and clear prose make them easy to pick up, and difficult to put down, even though they weren’t the type of novels I would normally read.

I’ve a work colleague to thank for this, as we ended up swapping books over the summer, with me lending her the set of Philip Pullman books that together make up the "Book of Dust", trilogy, in exchange for two of the Jack Reacher novels. I did, however, find one of the novels – "The Visitor", particularly disturbing, although if you really want to know why, then I suggest you get yourself a copy. In fairness though, Reacher’s unwavering sense of justice and his willingness to stand up to bullies, criminals and corrupt authorities offer a powerful wish-fulfilment fantasy that resonates with readers around the world.

Finally, "The Sun Also Rises", the first major novel by one of my favourite authors, Ernest Hemingway, and one of the defining works of the so-called, "Lost Generation" - young
men and women disillusioned by the First World War. The story follows Jake Barnes, an American journalist living in Paris after the First World War. He is in love with the glamorous but unattainable Lady Brett Ashley. Along with a group of expatriate friends, they travel to Pamplona in Spain, where love, jealousy and disillusionment come to a head during the famous bullfighting festival. On the surface, the novel is a story about travel, friendship and romance. Beneath this, Hemingway explores themes of disillusionment, lost ideals, masculinity, love, and the search for meaning in a world transformed by war. His spare, understated prose style became highly influential in twentieth-century literature.

The novel ends on a bittersweet note. Jake and Brett acknowledge the happiness they might have shared under different circumstances but recognise that their love can never be fully realised. The closing lines encapsulate the novel's mixture of longing, regret and acceptance. In essence, "The Sun Also Rises" is both a vivid portrait of a generation adrift after the First World War and a compelling story of love, friendship and personal loss.

Footnote: with another cruise holiday, looming on the horizon, I've got a couple more books to keep me occupied, whilst lounging out on the sundeck, or for last thing at night, before nodding off. Details to follow, once I've read them, along with a few more. As ever though, all recommendations and suggestions will be gratefully received, and carefully considered.

A brief moment of relaxation, with a classic seasonal beer

2026-10-27T22:27:02.820+00:00

Just a quick post to round off October, a month that has seen its usual share of contrasting moments, and I’m not talking here about the weather. In case anyone has been wondering what I’ve been up to, it’s mainly boring stuff, although some of it is quite important, especially sorting out my various pension pots, ahead of my forthcoming retirement.

The latter is looking like the beginning of March, next year, although that’s provisional at the moment. One thing what has definitely come to light is the absolute maze of confusing schemes, offered by a much too wide range of different pension providers, and fund managers. It’s a far cry from the old days when people, by and large, stayed with same company, or organisation, slowly navigating their way, up through the ranks, before stepping down gracefully, and picking up a generous “Final Salary” pension at the end of it all.

Unfortunately, those days are long gone, as most employers can’t afford the costs associated with “Defined Benefit” – Final Salary schemes. In their wake have come a whole procession of “Defined Contribution” pension plans which, rely on a raft of different options, all ultimately dependent on the stock market, and company financial performances. It’s not an easy route to navigate, as this isn’t the type of forward thinking that is taught in schools, even though it should be.

Instead, there are a host of different investment firms, all promising high returns on one’s hard-earned savings, when all that they’re really after is your hard-earned savings. It’s not just a minefield, but an over-complicated sector, and with the help of friends and colleagues, it’s one that is slowly becoming easier and more transparent.

It’s also proved quite a distraction, taking me away from things that I’d much rather be doing, such as, or sorting things out in both house and garden, and of course going to the pub! Earlier today, I broke my own rule about drinking during work time, but with Larkin’s Porter on tap, I was prepared to make an exception. My first pint this season of this full-bodied, but highly quaffable, seasonal, dark ale was enjoyed sitting in the surprisingly warm, mid-autumn sunshine outside the Greyhound, at Charcott. With the sun shining warm on my face, the peace and quiet of this lovingly restored country inn, provided just the reality check I was looking for.

As I said, this was my first taste this of excellent seasonal ale and was a just reward for having missed the beer last weekend, when it featured amongst the line-up at Tonbridge Fuggles. This short, 20-minute break was also the perfect moment of relaxation, before returning my empty glass to the bar, and setting off back to the office, along the lanes.

Brewing themselves out of business

2026-10-24T14:41:02.389+01:00

Before we finish with Faversham, there’s one last area I want to talk about, and it’s one that is particularly relevant to the recent brewery closure announcement that has come from Danish brewing giant, Carlsberg. If you haven’t been sleeping these past few weeks, you will be aware that the brewer of what many would regard as “the worst lager in the world”, are looking to close the historic Marston’s Brewery, in Burton-on-Trent. The closure is scheduled to take place next summer with the Danes citing falling demand for cask beer, within the UK market.

Faversham represents a much smaller version of Burton, although the same principles apply. Fortunately, Shepherd Neame, who are the UK’s oldest surviving brewery, continue to brew in the town, even though I have to say their beers are not my favourite. Thirty-five years ago, there was about another brewery in Faversham, literally just across the road from Shepherd Neame’s Court Street premises. This substantial enterprise was the former home of George Beer & Rigden Ltd whose beers were marketed throughout the county, under the well-known “Kent’s Best" branding.

Few drinkers today, will have heard of the company, although they may well remember the company who bought them out. This was Maidstone-based, Fremlin’s Ltd, whose “Elephant Brand Ales” were a familiar sight to Kentish drinkers. Up until the last quarter of the 20^th century, Fremlin’s were also the largest brewery in Kent, particularly in terms of number of pubs owned – roughly 700 pubs, at their peak, but in 1967, Whitbread acquired a controlling interest in the company. Five years later, in 1972, brewing operations at Maidstone ceased, and whilst the site continued as a distribution centre, all production was moved to Faversham.

Brewing continued at Court Street until 1990, when production ceased, but I can remember a couple of visits to the brewery, as part of a local CAMRA party, back in the 1980’s. The facility was very much alive and kicking back then, turning out Fremlin’s Bitter (marketed initially as Trophy Bitter, before the Fremlin’s name was re-instated). For a while, during that period, a stronger, and full-bodied bitter, called Tusker, was produced, the beer being named after Fremlin’s famous elephant mascot.

I was intrigued, and delighted last week, to discover that most of the Court Street Brewery buildings are still standing, and deservedly so, as they represent an attractive group of late Victorian industrial buildings, and whilst most have been re-purposed for a variety of other purposes, they form a reminder of what was once one of Kent’s largest brewery companies.

One of the buildings is now home to a large Tesco Superstore, and I’m kicking myself now for not venturing inside, for a quick look. The truth was I was running on a tight time schedule, having promised Mrs PBT’s that I’d be back in time for tea. (That didn’t work, due to a couple of late running trains, and I’m still not sure whether she believed me!) However, this error on my part, doesn’t preclude a return visit, and the "trouble & strife" can accompany next time, having expressed an interest in this over-sized Tesco.

Now I've gone a little off-piste here, but what I am really trying to convey is the sheer physical scale of breweries such as Beer & Rigden at Faversham, which itself reflects on the volume of beer produced a century or so ago. The same was true of Fremlin's in Maidstone, whose brewery occupied a substantial site in the heart of the county town, overlooking the river Medway. These sites were not just collections of buildings; they were industrial complexes, dominating their local landscapes and providing employment for generations.

Going back a little further, Maidstone was once home to another brewing giant. The premises of Style & Winch stood close to the river and were every bit as imposing as Fremlin's. Following the takeover by London brewers Barclay Perkins, brewing continued at Maidstone for many years, surviving even after the formation of Courage & Barclay. I can just about remember the brewery in operation. During a visit to Maidstone with a school friend, we ventured into the Seven Grays, a now long-demolished riverside pub that stood close to the brewery. It was a Courage house, notable at the time for serving cask beer, something of a rarity within the Courage estate. Today, the entire area has vanished beneath road improvements and a new bridge across the Medway, leaving little trace of the brewing industry that once dominated this part of town.

The point, though, is not simply one of nostalgia. Looking at old photographs of breweries such as Beer & Rigden, Fremlin's, or Style & Winch, one cannot help but wonder just how much beer these vast establishments were capable of producing. Their footprints covered acres, with brewhouses, maltings, cooperages, stores and bottling plants stretching across town-centre sites that would be almost unthinkable today. The same logic applies when considering famous brewing centres such as Burton upon Trent. Burton's success left it with an enormous concentration of brewing capacity, much of it built to satisfy levels of demand that no longer exist. Beer consumption in Britain has fallen dramatically over the past half-century, leaving the industry with far more production capacity than the modern market requires.

Whilst hard figures are often difficult to come by, this surplus capacity goes some way towards explaining why historic sites have continued to close. Marston's decision to cease brewing at its historic Shobnall Road brewery is one example. Yet the major brewers hardly helped themselves during the 1970s and 1980s, when they invested heavily in a new generation of highly automated "mega-breweries".

These enormous beer factories were frequently constructed close to motorway networks to simplify distribution. Courage built the vast Worton Grange brewery overlooking the M4 near Reading. Whitbread opened large-scale plants at Salmesbury, near Preston and the M6, and at Magor in South Wales. Bass, meanwhile, developed its notorious brewery at Runcorn. The inevitable consequence was the closure of many older breweries, often bearing famous local names and producing well-known regional beers.

None of this is intended as an excuse for the actions of multinational brewing groups or the asset-stripping that sometimes followed. However, it does help explain the commercial pressures that drove many of the decisions. By the late twentieth century, Britain possessed far more brewery capacity than it needed, and once production became concentrated in a handful of modern super-breweries, the fate of many historic sites was effectively sealed.

I think the strongest point here is that the closure of breweries such as Beer & Rigden was not purely the result of corporate greed. There was also a genuine overcapacity problem. A useful comparison might be that Britain in the 1950's and 1960's was still geared to supplying a nation drinking over twice as much beer per head as it does today. When consumption began its long decline, something had to give, and unfortunately, it was often the older town-centre breweries that paid the price.

Faversham revisited - Pt. 2

2026-10-20T20:34:00.857+01:00

Next up was the Anchor, a pub that wasn’t on my original list, but I’m pleased now that I took a punt on this lengthy oak-beamed building that is over 300 years old. Situated close to the quayside and boat moorings at Faversham Creek, I’m fairly certain that I hadn’t visited this nautical themed establishment before on previous visits to Faversham. From the outside, the pub looks like three different buildings joined into one, and I suppose it may well have
been, at one stage during the past. Internally, there are many original features, including a number of open fireplaces, along with a wealth of nautical memorabilia.

I ended up in the right-hand bar, where there was a lively group of local drinkers, sitting at the bar and catching up on the local gossip – people they’d seen recently. The group ignored me, as I sat at the far end of the bar, nursing my pint of Master Brew, and here follows an interesting observation. In the three Shep’s pubs that I visited that day, I didn’t spot a single pump offering Spitfire – the beer that at one time was probably the brewery’s best-selling cask ale, and certainly the most heavily promoted.

Two of the pubs were offering the seasonal Late Red on hand-pump, but apart from that it was Master Brew all
the way. Departing from the Anchor, I headed back into town, passing on the way the attractive-looking Phoenix Tavern. This is a Faversham pub that I might have been in before, although I couldn’t be sure. One thing I did notice was the large sign outside, looking for new licensees willing to take a chance on running the pub. Good luck to anyone brave enough to try, especially in today’s climate, but a publican’s life is not the one for me.

I continued my journey into the town centre, with the aim of visiting two further pubs before my train home. The first of these was going to be the Railway, a pub mentioned right at the start of this piece, but I ended up being distracted by the Creeker's Tap, a conversion from a former glazing shop that that opened as a pub in late 2016. This relative newcomer started life as the Corner Tap, before adopting its present name during Covid.

The Tap was refurbished in October last year, and in its present guise consists of two rooms with some solid and comfortable furniture, plus a lounge type area with a Chesterfield and armchairs in the room at the rear. The pub is also air-conditioned, a feature that would have been a major attraction two or three months ago. The Tap features 17 keg taps, from a row on the back wall, plus a couple of cask ales.

The main attraction for me was the availability of Tegernsee Spezial, an import from southern Bavaria, and a beer I have enjoyed on a couple of occasions at the, down to earth, brewery tap, overlooking the shores of Lake Tegernsee, to the south of Munich. This idyllic scene, set against the background of the Bavarian Alps, is one of the best places I know to enjoy Tegernsee beer, in a location that has monastic origins. Also, coming after the rather bland Master Brew that I’d been chugging all day, this alpine brew was far and away the best beer of the day.

It was time for one final beer, plus one last pub, and where better to finish at than the Elephant - a long time CAMRA favourite, situated at the back of Faversham railway station. This two-roomed traditional, no-frills pub, with a function room at the back, provides a warm welcome to locals and visitors alike. I’d obviously picked a quiet time as apart from the friendly girl behind the bar, there was just me plus one other customer. Both of these people were welcoming and chatty, and this is a feature that the Elephant has always endeavoured to encourage.

The establishment was local CAMRA Branch Pub of the Year in 2023 and again in 2026. There is a fine hanging pub sign, at the front of the pub that has been restored to its rightful place after many years of exposure to the elements. The sign features the famous Elephant, that for many years was the trademark of the former Fremlin’s Brewery. The pub’s landlord is a former member of the “Senior Service” and prides himself on serving a range of cask ales that occasionally includes a beer that has been allowed to mature in the cellar.

The pub has received numerous CAMRA awards consistently over the years. The only cloud on the horizon is that the landlord is looking to retire but has had difficulty in attracting the “right” buyer. This means a person who will keep the pub much as it is today, and without changing too much. Fingers crossed he can attract the right buyer.

Ribersborg Stout from Shivering Sands Brewery, was my final pint of the day, and was a good one to end my exploration of, what turned out to be, just a few of Faversham’s many pubs. If you appreciate unspoilt pubs as much as I do, and are not too fussed about drinking Shepherd Neame beer, then this pleasant north Kent town is well worth a day trip, or perhaps even a longer stay.

Faversham re-visited, Pt 1

2026-10-19T22:09:16.511+01:00

Stepping off the train at Faversham station last Friday, a minute or two after midday, brought back quite a few memories. The four-platform station is more extensive than I remember but not untypical of other stations further along the line, at places such as Margate and Ramsgate. I ascended the steps, crossed the road and right in front of me was the Railway Hotel, an imposing and attractive red brick late, Victorian public house. Like many pubs in this pleasant north Kent town, the Railway is owned by Shepherd Neame, who are Britain’s oldest brewery – see below.

I left the Railway for that final, pre return train pint and carried on towards the town centre, where I was making for two classic Shepherd Neame pubs that I remembered from previous visits. On the way, down I passed an attractive looking boozer, called the Limes. I also bookmarked that one for later as well, and carried on Faversham retains a remarkably intact historic core, with a well preserved medieval and Georgian townscape, with parts dating back to Saxon times. In 811AD, a royal charter established Faversham as an important Saxon estate., and then in 1147–48, Faversham Abbey was founded by King Stephen and Queen Matilda. The abbey became the town’s dominant institution for nearly 400 years until its dissolution in 1538.

Local tradition holds that the abbey’s monks recognised the quality of Faversham’s spring water for brewing. This tradition continued, and in 1698 Shepherd Neame was founded. Today Shep’s are Britain’s oldest brewer and are still operating in the town centre. From the 16th century, Faversham became one of Britain’s earliest centres of gunpowder production. Its mills supplied explosives for military and industrial use until the early 20th century. A catastrophic explosion in 1916 killed over 100 workers and marked the industry’s decline. The historic feel to the town centre, is evidenced by the many half-timbered buildings, overlooking narrow streets, and winding little alleyways. The fact that much of the traffic has been diverted away from the town centre, makes walking around Faversham a pleasure rather than an experience to be wary of, but what about the pubs that I visited?

First on the list was the Bear Inn, situated in the town’s Market Place, and one of the oldest pubs in Faversham. Stepping in through the front door, visitors can either continue straight ahead, through an internal door or, do as I did and turn directly right through another door. The former option leads to two further bars, both leading off the corridor, whilst the latter opens straight into what can best be described as a “snug” bar. With bare wooden floors, wooden seating and walls decorated with various Shepherd Neame Brewery artefacts, and beer dispensed from an ancient bank of beer engines perched on the counter, this really was like stepping back in time.

Apart from me, the only other customer in the bar was a middle-aged lady perched on a bar stool, absorbed in reading the local newspaper. She had a dog with her, but apart from that she wasn't at all chatty. I too, decided that silence was the best policy, so instead just enjoyed sitting there soaking up the atmosphere of this lovely old pub. Unfortunately, I later discovered that the Bear offered the reasonably priced food options that I spent much of the next couple of hours, looking for! Oh well, you can’t win them all, and it kind of serves me right for not doing my homework, thoroughly
enough.

I didn't have far to go to the second pub, but before stepping inside, the Sun Inn, I took a stroll along into West Street where there was a small market going on. There were some interesting items for sale, although as none appealed to me that much, I adjourned to the historic Sun Inn, an attractive and multi-roomed 14^th century pub, sited in the town’s conservation area.

The Sun is brimming with a number of intriguing original features, including several inglenook fireplaces, oak beams plus a lovely courtyard garden, that is accessed from the middle bar. As well as being popular with local diners, the pub has eight characterful bedrooms providing stylish accommodation. Shepherd Neame beers again, although as with the Bear, the Master Brew Bitter was at least quite quaffable.

I was feeling peckish by this time, so after leaving the Sun I headed off in a westerly direction towards the quayside, at Faversham Creek. On the way I called in at Crusts, a local bakery offering filled rolls and, according to the shop sign, so much more. The rolls did indeed appear tempting, but not as tempting as the Cornish Pasty I ordered, direct from the hot cabinet. It provided the solid sustenance I was craving, so I sat out on a bench opposite the shop, enjoying this ideal, lunchtime snack. The sun too, was shining by this time, which was a welcome change from the rain that had followed me eastwards, across the county, all the way from Tonbridge.

To be continued.................................................................................................

Preamble to an enjoyable day out in Faversham

2026-10-18T18:58:35.806+01:00

As mentioned in my previous article, I spent much of Friday enjoying a day out in the lovely and easy‑going town of Faversham. It’s not the simplest place to reach by rail from Tonbridge: two changes are required, the first at Paddock Wood, from where an interesting journey unfolds. This is where the line follows the sinuous course of the river Medway for a good stretch, offering glimpses of water, marsh, and industry as the train heads towards Rochester.

The second change takes place at Strood, an important junction where the Medway Valley line meets the main route from London Victoria to the Kent Coast. There I transferred onto a fast‑moving Javelin train for the final leg to Faversham. The train raced through the linked Medway towns - Rochester, Chatham, Gillingham, before continuing past Teynham and Sittingbourne and then finally rolling into Faversham itself.

This corner of Kent isn’t one I know particularly well, and the same is true of Faversham. Whilst I have made several previous visits, the last of these was in 2017, and was only a brief one, as part of the Maidstone CAMRA’s annual Good Friday ramble. On that occasion we walked out to the atmospheric and unspoilt Shipwright's Arms at Conyer, one of the many small creeks that lie just inland from the Medway and the Swale - the channel separating Sheppey from
mainland Kent.

I had hoped to revisit the Shipwright's on Friday, but Google Maps informed me that Conyer was a 45‑minute walk from central Faversham. A 90‑minute round trip was more time than I could sensibly spare, so I reluctantly shelved the idea for another day and instead devoted the next four hours to exploring Faversham itself.

That decision proved wise, as I visited four classic pubs in the town, plus one relatively new outlet. Although I’d hesitate to call this latter establishment a micro-pub, it still turned out to be a real surprise, and in some respects the best discovery of the day, even if not quite the best pub overall. Three of the others were Shepherd Neame houses, and the final one was a CAMRA‑approved gem that I remember fondly from visits 15 to 20 years ago.

If I have one gripe about the day, it’s the increasingly widespread absence of simple, affordable, foldable food in many pubs. This seems to be a particular issue in this part of the country. Not everyone wants a full sit‑down meal, yet the Midlands and the North manage perfectly well with filled rolls, referred to as Cobbs - which provide a tasty, satisfying, and entirely manageable snack. It seems baffling that Kent and the rest of the south-east can’t follow suit.

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!