A Sevenoaks selection

On a rather cold Friday, I took the bus over to nearby Sevenoaks, with the express purpose of visiting a couple of pubs, at the top end of the town. By “top end” I am referring to the old part of Sevenoaks, that is close to the historic pile of Knole Park. Travelling over from Tonbridge by road-based transportation rather than rail was a deliberate decision on my part, and it wasn’t a money saving one either. You see, whilst I can travel by bus f.o.c. arriving in the town by motorised transport allows the option of reaching the precise area of Sevenoaks that suits your agenda. This is in complete contrast to arriving by train, because the town’s rail station is right at the bottom of the town (northern end), meaning a steep climb up to the centre of Sevenoaks.

This suited my agenda, as the pubs I had in mind are all at the top end of town, which is the oldest part of Sevenoaks. Travelling from Tonbridge, I took the No.4 Go-Coach service, a fairly new operator on the route between the two towns, although if I’m honest, I only boarded this bus because it came arrived a few minutes before the No.402 Arriva service that I planned to take. The bus dropped me at Sevenoaks bus station, a facility that is now missing from the majority of UK towns. The compact, but functional bus station has its own café, plus some all-important toilet facilities, handily situated for use, prior to boarding the bus home!

I’d originally bookmarked two pubs to visit, but after passing the recently re-vamped Chequers Inn (possibly the oldest pub in town), I couldn’t resist calling in for a quick look – and a quick beer! St Austell Tribute was my choice, but I could have gone for Harvey’s Best or “Chequers Ale” a house beer, brewed by Greene King apparently, and probably just re-badged, GK IPA. As mentioned, the pub had received a makeover, although apart from new carpets and comfy chairs, the two bars didn’t seem that different to what I remember.

I ended up drinking up quickly, because the quiet area I was sitting in, admittedly quite close to the bar, was “invaded” for want of a better word, by what seemed to be a pre-arranged, works reunion. Mostly female, with a token male participant, it was rather OTT and "lovey-dovey", for my liking. With hindsight I’d have been better off round in the other section of the bar, where a log-burner was radiating some welcome heat. No pictures, I’m afraid, as there was just too many people present, and not for the only time either, that day.

Departing via the rear entrance, which was close to the toilets, I crossed London Road and then turned into South Park. This road is home to Sevenoaks Post Office, and it's a real rarity these days to find a proper PO, rather than just a counter crammed into a local newsagents or convenience store. This configuration might be because there is still a postal sorting office to the rear of the Sevenoaks facility.

A short distance along South Park, and just opposite the sorting office, is the South Park Tap, a micro-pub which opened in May 2023 in a former café and sandwich bar. The Tap is a welcome addition to the town’s drinking scene and features a green-tiled facade leading into an attractively furnished and decorated interior. There are two drinking areas, set on different levels, with the rear one accessed down some quite steep steps. There is also a very small outside courtyard, but with temperatures hovering around 6° Celsius, I gave that area a miss.

With two Tonbridge Brewery beers on tap, along with one from Canterbury Ales (The Pardoners), there was a reasonable sized group of drinkers milling around the bar when I arrived. Unfortunately, by the time I’d finished my pint of Tonbridge IPA, there was only me, sitting by myself on the comfortable bench seating, opposite the bar. Something I said? I asked the young lad, sitting behind the bar and glued to his phone, how trade had been. 

He said business had been OK, and he was waiting for a pre-booked group of drinkers to turn up alter in the afternoon. As well as a well-kept pint served to me in a dimpled mug, the Tap had Tayto ready-salted crisps as part of their snack offering. Tayto crisps are a rare sight, on this side of the Irish Sea, but Mrs PBT’s and I enjoyed a few packs last spring, when our cruise ship stopped off in Cobh (the port town for Cork).

It was time to move on, and there wasn’t far to go to the third pub of the day. I’d walked past it earlier, when looking for somewhere to purchase a roll, or similar lunchtime snack. Tucked away, down a pedestrian access running between London Road and the High Street, is the Restoration, a Shepherd Neame pub. Formerly known as the Black Boy, the pub changed its name to its current one, a few years ago, and underwent a complete makeover at the same time. The name change is said to maintain the link to Charles II, known at the time of his reign as a “black boy”. Regardless of its name change, the pub dates back to reign of the aforementioned king, although given the extent of recent alterations, it’s difficult to confirm its antiquity.

The Restoration was certainly buzzing last Friday afternoon, primarily with “ladies that lunch”. The “Reserved” signs on many of the unoccupied tables, hinted at the expected trade, later in the day. Master Brew plus Whitstable Bay Pale were the two cask offerings, and I plumped for the latter, served to me by one of two pleasant and friendly girls behind the bar.  As with the Chequers, opportunities for internal photos were non-existent, so you’ll have to make do with a couple of exterior shots. This issue aside, it was good to see the Restoration enjoying a buoyant and vibrant trade.

I left the pub, and headed back towards the bus station, stopping at the town’s Bagel Station shop to pick up a cream cheese and smoked salmon bagel, served warm, straight from the griddle. This was my first visit to the Sevenoaks bagel outlet, and with the décor and signage practically identical to the recently opened Tonbridge store, I naturally assumed they were both part of the same group. Sorry for mentioning it, I thought, as the individual serving me was quite off when I referred to the Tonbridge outlet – so perhaps it is a breakaway store, that split away from the established one, after a falling out. People can get quite petty and protective, but in response to a perfectly innocent and well-meaning question on my part, why be such an arse?

That aside, the shop was doing a roaring trade, numbering office staff, shop workers and sixth former's amongst its queuing customers. I wandered back to the bus station, plonked myself down on a bench and got stuck into my bagel. A trifle too rich perhaps, but it was the combination written up on the menu board that caught my attention. I finished my lunch just before the 402-bus turned up, which was just as well, as eating on board is no doubt frowned upon. I’d already upset one individual at his place of work and didn’t want to upset another.

After a speedy journey back to Tonbridge, I waited for the connecting bus that would take me close to the top of my road. As I walked down the road, I bumped into the neighbour I’d spoken to earlier that morning. Nick has agreed to carry out a spot of tree work for me, on a couple of trees that have got a little out of hand. As we were both passing Bailey Towers,  he came over for a closer look, and on that note my trip over to Sevenoaks, drew to a conclusion.

 

 

 

Trying to find my mojo

In my previous post about encouraging other people to take up writing about beer, or even to start their own blog, I mentioned that I was rarely lost for something to write about. Well, be careful what you wish for, as for the past few days, I’ve been stuck in just such a rut. I’ve got a few ideas formed now, as well as something more concrete, but after scrolling through some of the rambling jottings I knocked out on our return from last autumn’s Atlantic cruise, I realised there was sufficient material for a brief post.

After our departure from Madeira, Queen Victoria headed towards the Portuguese mainland and the sea port of Leixoes. The latter is the entry point for Porto, Portugal’s second largest city and the centre of the country’s renowned port wine trade. It was somewhere I’d wanted to visit for some time, not only because I’m partial to the occasional glass of Port, but because I’m interested in the way this legendary drink is produced, and the maturation process it goes through before reaching the customer’s glass. I’ve got some form in relation to this, because I started my career with a position in the wine trade, and the company I worked for were keen for their employees to expand their knowledge in this field.

I shall leave that particular story for another day but suffice to say I was excited to be visiting the centre, and indeed the home of what is probably Portugal’s most famous export. I'd booked a coach excursion for the pair of us into the centre of Porto, a drive of 30-40 minutes from the coastal port of Leixoes, where our cruise ship was berthed. The day before we were due to dock, I developed a really annoying summer cold which fellow cruisers identified as the infamous “Cunard Cough”. Such bugs are quite common onboard ship, and are probably spread around via the air-conditioning system, but over the course of the intervening sea day my symptoms worsened to the point that I agreed with Mrs PBT’s that I ought to abandon the excursion.

As my good lady wife pointed out, it wouldn't really have been fair for me to be coughing and spluttering over my fellow coach passengers, during the drive into Porto. I reluctantly agreed, and headed down to the Purser’s Office where, I fortunately managed to get cost of the excursion credited back to my account – less a small processing fee. I was really lucky and certainly used all my charm on the lady behind the shore excursions desk, as such trips aren't normally covered by the cruise line’s refunds policy.

The following morning, after a good night’s sleep, I typically felt much better, although I would definitely have been pushing my luck to try reversing my cancellation.  Despite missing out on the Port Houses of Porto, Eileen and I spent a quiet, but enjoyable day on board ship in Leixoes, where we were blessed with the proverbial wall to wall sunshine. The sea was calm seas and there was very little wind blowing. With most of Victoria’s passengers ashore, along with many of the crew, there was a nice quiet feel about the ship, with plenty of space to chill out and relax. I briefly ventured ashore, but only as far as the cruise terminal. There wasn't exactly a lot there, apart from a small souvenir shop, so I called in and bought a tin of sardines (well you’ve just got to, haven’t you?), plus a small ceramic Portuguese knick-knack for Mrs PBT’s.

I could see the beach, stretching out on the other side of the breakwater, and I found out, from one of the women at the shop that I could have got a bus there, into the port, and then to the beach. That would have been nice, if only just for a beer and an ice cream, but I had just gone back through security. I mentioned that to the shop staff, who just shrugged their shoulders in typical Mediterranean manner, and said “Don't worry go back, and then come through again, once you’ve been to the beach”. I didn’t, in the end, as it seemed poor compensation for having missed visiting one of Porto’s wine lodges. I'm rather fond of a glass or two, especially over the festive season and at the time of writing, I had a bottle left unopened, from the previous Christmas.

Our next port of call was the Spanish port city of Vigo, which is almost just around the corner from Leixoes, where the coastline changes from Portuguese, and back into Spanish territory. We’d been to Vigo on a previous cruise and it's a place where you literally walk straight off the ship and into the centre of town – or at least the dock area. Our previous visit took place on a Sunday, and with Spain being a staunch Catholic country, not many shops were open. This time it would be different, and the city would redeem itself as a good place to buy the odd present for the folks back home or, more importantly for us, a selection of Spanish cooking ingredients.

Now I’m going to end this part of the narrative, as I covered it earlier, and not long after we returned to the UK. For those with poor memories, or those who can’t be bothered to refer back, our ship was unable to dock at Vigo, thanks to a severe storm developing out in the Atlantic, and heading towards the Bay of Biscay. Rather than heading into the deepening depression, the captain took the decision to “run for home,” and we arrived safely back in Blighty after having missed the worst of whatever name the local Met Office had assigned to this annoying storm.

Back home, I reflected that there were quite a few places on the northern coast of Spain that probably aren’t affected by these Atlantic storms, as the exposed west coast. Bilbao is one such place, but I was thinking more of the Basque city of San Sebastian, located close to the border with France, and in that corner of the country where the coast heads off in a sharp, northerly direction. I might have referred to San Sebastian in the past, but 50 or so years ago, the previous Mrs PBT's and I spent the best part of a week in this attractive city, before heading south into the interior of Spain and ending up on the Costas – Alicante, to be precise. On that particular trip we travelled by train, after boarding a cross-channel ferry, as foot passengers, from Dover to Dunkirk. An early morning train took us to Paris, and after an overnight stop in the French capital, we took one of the fast Corail services southwards, towards the Spanish border.

For the train buffs amongst you, Corail pre-dated the super-fast TGV trains, and provided a fast, pleasant, clean and direct service between Paris and Bordeaux (and several other French cities). We found a cheap hotel in the city, which was a lot more industrial than we were expecting and, as in Paris, had to surrender our passports at reception, so they could be vetted by the local Gendarmerie.  I’m not sure when this practice ceased, but it was the same in Spain as well, although back then the country was ruled over by that nice man, General Franco!

From Bordeaux we took a slightly slower train crossing the border into Spain, at Irun where it was necessary to change trains, due to the different loading gauge of the Spanish railways. More train geekery coming up, as a change of country meant a change of trains, due to the fact that the Spanish railways operated on a wider gauge than the universal standard. I'm not sure if that still applies to Spanish rail system or whether the tracks have been converted to European standard gauge, but once onboard the local Spanish train, we continued our journey towards San Sebastian. My previous wife had spent for four months living and working in the city, as part of her Modern Languages degree course, so she knew the city well.

San Sebastian had a bright and airy feel to it, partly enhance by it situation overlooking the Bay of Biscay, but also by its fine architecture. I’m guessing the city emerged relatively unscathed from the Spanish Civil War. It did seem a little bit edgy back then, which was due to the activities the Basque separatist organisation ETA, who weren't averse to committing the odd atrocity. 

Their attacks were mainly aimed at government buildings, although there was the occasional bomb, timed to go off in a crowded market square. What was really nice about San Sebastian, was the cuisine, especially the seafood. If you’re a fan of fresh fish, lobster or crab, then this is the place for you, and the local wine wasn’t bad either. I can’t remember a thing about the beer, so if you do decide to visit the city, you will need to do your own research. The thing that was missing was the wall-to-wall sunshine I had been expecting, which of course brings us back to the situation that had preventing us from docking in Vigo, some 50 years later.

It’s time now to say goodbye to northern Spain, but if you’re not put off by strong westerly winds, and the odd bit of rain, then Vigo, La Coruna and San Sebastian are all well worth a visit.

 

 

 

 

Why not start your own blog? Boak & Bailey claim that you can, and I believe they are right!

Here’s an interesting challenge for you all, because veteran bloggers, Boak & Bailey have made it their mission to encourage people to write about beer – get them blogging for want of a better description! The pair claim, quite rightly in my opinion, that anyone can decide to write about beer. The couple say that posting on your own blog, that you own and manage, is the best approach, and very much an antidote to the problems of social media and platforms “run by arseholes” (their words, rather than mine, although I whole heartedly agree with the sentiments expressed.)

The duo advise starting your blog quietly, and then building up gradually, which is what I did, when I started my own site, back in November 2008. I’d been writing my own material for quite some time, prior to starting Paul Bailey’s Beer Blog – the rather unimaginative original title for Paul’s Beer & Travel Blog. I had also edited two local CAMRA branch publications, a task that involved, in both cases, writing most of the copy. 

For the record, those publications were “Draught Copy” – the Newsletter of Maidstone & Mid-Kent CAMRA, and “Inn View” the branch magazine of West Kent CAMRA. Both publications were successful, in their own right, although the Maidstone newsletter had been around for quite a few years, before I took over the reins. Inn View, started as a branch effort, but the mantle of chief copywriter soon fell to me. In both cases the services of a friendly and sympathetic printer, were essential, as was the army of volunteers responsible for delivering the publications to CAMRA – sympathetic pubs.

Blogging is obviously a lot easier, and involves little in the way of physical effort, as apart from the necessary research, nothing could be easier that sitting in front of your PC, in the comfort of your own home, bashing out a post or two. Spicing it up with a few, photos to illustrate the post, add further depth and interest to your blog, although to avoid falling foul of the UK’s strict copyright laws, make sure they’re your own snaps, rather than lifting one straight off the web.

Before going any further I want to make special mention of a former blogger, called Paul Garrard. Paul was the person responsible for getting me interested in blogging in the first place, via his excellent, but now sadly long defunct Real Ale Blog. Paul hosted this blog for a number of years, and it was in response to a request on the site for guest writers to contribute articles, that led to me becoming involved. As mentioned earlier, I had been writing articles on beer and pubs, for a number of years, with the aim of eventually getting them published, so it wasn’t a massive leap of faith to get one published, online.

Spurred on by Paul’s request, I emailed him, one of these articles, and a day or two later, was delighted to see it posted on the Real Ale Blog. I followed this original post with a couple of other articles, one of which was freshly written, and on a topical subject. I hadn't at the time, intended to start my own blog, but after looking into it, and discovering how easy it was to open a Google account, I took the plunge and set up a blog of my own. I chose Google’s Blogger as the platform to host my new creation, primarily because that was the one Paul Garrard was using. In addition, I wasn’t even aware of alternatives, such as Word Press.

Those initial posts were fairly basic, as it took me a while to discover how to upload photos, but the platform was easy to use, as well as being free, so I bashed out a few more posts, and the rest, they say, is history. With small steps to begin with, plus a few very welcome words of encouragement in the Comments Section, I was raring to go. One of the first commentators, was Paul Garrard, congratulating me for taking the plunge. Another was veteran blogger, Tandleman, a real character and one of the few writers from those early days, who is still posting today.

I only made eight posts in that first year (2008), although in defence, I didn’t start writing articles until November of that year. The following year saw 80 posts, followed by 90 in 2010.  I hit a rough patch in 2011, before bouncing back in 2013, when I passed the magic 100 posts, in a year. That figure has remained at around the 110 – 130 mark, with my highest total for a single year, hitting 150 in 2017.

Going back to those early days, for a moment, I’m not sure what happened to Paul Garrard. I’m assuming that he just lost interest. Online searches reveal very little about him, but despite is disappearance this was an individual who deserves credit for his early efforts, and boundless enthusiasm. I met up with Paul, in Maidstone, back in 2009, at the Rifle Volunteer, an unspoiled back street pub, owned by Goacher’s Brewery.

Despite his relatively young age, Matthew insisted on coming with me, after all meeting up with someone, I’d only chatted to online was fraught with all kinds of danger – or so he thought! Talk about a vivid imagination, even though he had my best interests at heart. Like Eileen and I, Paul Garrard had run his own beer shop for a while, although by the time we met, he had moved on to something else. I’m fairly certain that Paul’s shop was located in Norwich, although I never found the time to ask him.

Coming back to the “now”, blogging is much more than a numbers game though, and my prime aims remain to inform, and entertain those who call by and click on the blog.  I find it quite relaxing to write, and whilst there are the odd lean patches, it’s not often that I find myself “lost for words.” I’ve also met some really nice and interesting people, and have enjoyed shared experiences with them, days out – usually to classic pub towns, plus the occasional night away from home. As a “hobby”, if that’s what you wish to call it, then I can thoroughly recommend it, but blogging is far more than that, and in ways that are often difficult to describe. My blog is as much a part of me as I am of it, and long may it continue!

Footnote: Clicking on this link will take you to the very first post on Paul’s Beer Travels – or Paul Bailey’s Beer Blog as it was formerly known. Looking back, that initial article seems a little amateurish, which it almost certainly was, but everyone one has to start somewhere, and that represented my first tentative steps along the road to where I find myself today.

 

Jaipur goes from strength to strength

Since its founding in 2005 Thornbridge Brewery, who are located in the heart of the Peak District, have been dedicated to producing high-quality beer. Their best-known brand is Jaipur, a beer that was one of the first beers produced by the company, and one that requires little in the way of introduction to UK beer lovers. Available in cask, keg, bottle, and can formats, Jaipur is widely regarded as the country’s first craft IPA, and since its launch, it has earned more than 100 awards. More importantly, to real ale afficionados like me, the beer is widely regarded as one of the UK's top modern cask beers.

In addition to brewing Jaipur, Thornbridge produces a diverse selection of cask beers and houses the world’s last working Burton Union system. This traditional brewing equipment enhances their offerings, allowing the brewery to create distinctive, classic beers and collaborate with famous brewers worldwide. Recent figures show that Jaipur is now ranked as the ninth best-selling cask beer in Britain—a notable accomplishment for this flagship IPA. Its success highlights not only the strength of the Jaipur brand, but also the increasing popularity of contemporary, hop-forward beers across the country.

In 2025, Thornbridge had its most successful year ever, with over 3.5 million pints of Jaipur contributing to this success. The beer was chosen for Wetherspoon’s "Class Act" promotion, an event that features premium brands from around the UK and introduces Jaipur to new drinkers. In addition, Jaipur has been made available nationally by major pub and hospitality chains such as Mitchells & Butlers, Molson Coors, and Stonegate.

Support from the all-important Free Trade sector, remains crucial to the category’s continued success, especially given its ongoing dedication to high-quality cask beer. Thornbridge now distributes its products throughout the UK and exports to over 40 countries globally, having received more than 350 international awards. Looking forward, the brewery is positive about the future. With Jaipur leading the way and renewed interest in cask beer, Thornbridge aim to build on this success and continue promoting modern cask beers for years to come.

Final word from Simon Webster, the Co-Founder and CEO of Thornbridge Brewery. “After several challenging years within the industry, the brewery is pleased to announce a return to profitability, representing a pivotal milestone for long-term sustainability. This progress is the result of prudent management, a sustained commitment to quality and consistency, and renewed confidence in the future prospects of cask beer.”

After reading that, I have a real craving for a pint of Jaipur, preferably although not necessarily, essentially in cask form. The nearest outlet to Bailey Towers, where I am likely to find Jaipur, is my local Wetherspoons, although I have not seen the beer on sale recently, at either of their two local outlets - Humphrey Bean (Tonbridge) or Opera House (Tunbridge Wells). Tonbridge drinkers were spoiled last year, by the welcome appearance of a batch of Jaipur, brewed using Thornbridge’s then recently acquired, Burton Union set, mentioned above. A repeat of that experimental brew is eagerly awaited by West Kent drinkers, so how about it, Thornbridge?

 

Lewes - renewing my acquaintance with two classic pubs, and experiencing two unfamiliar ones

Right, we’ve covered the travel details, we’ve admired the pretty pictures as well, so now it’s time to take a look at the four Lewes pubs that I visited last Friday afternoon. Having worked in the town for a three-year period, I know the town quite well, and even though the time I spent there was over 30 years ago, I still retain much affection for the Sussex county town. During those three years, I visited a fair number of Lewes’s many pubs, but it’s important to remember that I was based in the town for business reasons, rather than ones of pleasure, and whilst there were no real restrictions against the occasional lunchtime pint, it wasn’t something that I indulged in that often.

There were two reasons for this, one of which was shortage of cash, whist the other was one of road safety. I wasn’t terribly well-off back in 1992. I’d recently become a father, and with Mrs PBT’s swapping the workplace for domesticity, we’d changed from a reasonably well-off, two wage-earning household, to one that was having to rely on just the one wage. Furthermore, my travel costs had increased significantly, changing from a short car journey of around 5 miles to a return, cross-country drive of just under 60 miles. Quite a difference, especially when it came to putting fuel in the tank, and an added expense I had to be aware of. This is where the road safety bit comes in, as that 30-mile journey to and from work each day, meant keeping my wits about me behind the wheel, so any lunchtimes drinking, if it occurred, had to be kept to a minimum.

Despite these restraints, I still manage the odd lunchtime pint, although most likely my regular walks into Lewes, served a different purpose, because two or three times a week, I would call in at the Harvey’s Shop, in Cliffe High Street, to fill up my 4-pint, carry-keg with draught beer. Cask, of course, and not always Best Bitter either, because the shop normally had a cask of whichever seasonal brew was on sale at the time, so XXXX Old Ale in winter, Porter for January-February time, Tom Paine in July, and Armada Ale most of the time, as an alternative to the Best. I was a regular customer at the shop, and always addressed properly as Mister Bailey, and never as Paul.

My walks into town took me along South Street, a quiet side street these days, following the construction of the Cuilfail Tunnel. Opened in 1980, the tunnel allows the busy A26 to bypass Lewes to the east of the town, thereby removing much of the through traffic that used to clog the narrow streets of the county town. Close to the northern end of the tunnel, is the Snowdrop Inn, a welcoming and friendly free house, nestling under the cliffs on the outskirts of Lewes.  Offering a range of beers from local Sussex breweries, the pub has quite a quirky feel to it, a feature I recall from the time when I worked in the town. Seeing as that was 30+ years ago, I decided to check out the Snowdrop, to see whether anything had changed at the pub.

My choice of the Snowdrop was in line with the plan that I hatched earlier, of avoiding some of Lewes’s better-known pubs, in favour of some that I was less familiar with. It was quiet as I walked along South Street, and when I eventually reached the pub, it did seem as though little had changed. There was a handful of people, scattered around the bar, plus a large, husky type dog, splayed out in front of the side entrance. I noticed Harvey’s Old on sale, but to begin with I opted for a coffee. My rather rushed train journey from Tonbridge (see previous article), had left little time for non-alcoholic refreshment, and I was missing my mid-morning caffeine fix, so a flat white, prior to the XXXX Old, was just the thing to set me up for the day.

Both drinks were good, and also very welcome, as I positioned myself at a table that gave me a good look at the proceedings. Several customers had ordered, and the food I saw being brought out, looked very good. I noticed on the pub website, that the pub has an additional, upstairs seating area, a facility I’d completely forgotten about. Eileen’s niece and her husband, who live in nearby Uckfield, have a fondness for the Snowdrop, so I must let them know about my visit.  That aside, it was good to renew my acquaintance with this welcoming, but slightly offbeat pub, so I’m pleased to have made the effort to call in.

Departing the Snowdrop and managing to get out of the door without stepping on the hound, I retraced my steps, back towards the Cliffe area of Lewes, for the next pub on my list. For many years, the Dorset was the nearest Harvey’s pub to the brewery, and whilst that distinction has now passed to the John Harvey Tavern, the former still gives the impression of its position in the local pecking order, reinforced by it being the home of the Cliffe Bonfire Society - the largest of the Lewes bonfire societies.   

The Dorset was refurbished in 2006, which is probably why the interior looked completely different, from what I remember. There are several drinking and dining areas, a large patio affording views back towards the brewery, plus six reasonably priced en-suite bedrooms. There are at least four Harvey’s ales on hand-pump, plus an extensive menu featuring traditional home-cooked dishes along with a seafood menu, using freshly caught fish from nearby Newhaven. 

There were two pleasant and helpful girls working behind the bar and looking after customers’ food requirements. With the time and place being just right, I ordered a bowl pf potato and leek soup, served with thick-cut, crusty bread. It was the perfect accompaniment to the excellent Old Ale. As with the previous pub there was a good mix of customers, that included an extended family in the room on the other side of the bar. The Dorset was definitely worth visiting, even though there was little that I recognised from three decades ago.

It was quite a hike up to pub No.3, and this was an establishment I wasn’t 100 percent sure about. Situated in Lewes High Street, at the top of School Hill, and a short distance from the town’s famous law courts, the "Rights of Man" takes its name from American revolutionary, Thomas Paine’s best known works. Paine lived in Lewes for a while, and to commemorate this fact, Harvey’s produce a strong pale ale in his honour, which is a available in cask form on and around the 4^th July.  

United States Independence Day, of course, so
the wrong time of year for cask Tom Paine to be available but made up for by some rather good Armada Ale. The latter is available all year round, but in my experience isn’t seen on the bar as often as it should be. I said that I wasn’t sure about the Rights of Man, and CAMRA’s local pub pages for Lewes, have since confirmed that the pub only opened under this name, in 2012.  

Conclusion, this was definitely my first visit to this bar, which extends back a fair way, as if it is making up for the rather narrow frontage. The style of décor at the pub is of cosy old-fashioned booths, etched glass and wood panelling, all adding to the rather upmarket feel of the place. The toilets are at the top of a rather steep staircase that isn’t that easy to navigate after a few beers. It is worth persevering in summer though, as there is an external roof terrace, that is almost hidden away. After that hike up from the River Ouse, it was another route march to the fourth and final pub of the day, and this time it wasn’t a Harvey’s pub. 

It was further to the Pelham Arms than I thought, although not quite as far as the Black Horse – a pub which back in the day, offered rather basic bed & breakfast accommodation. Eric and I discovered this on our South Downs Way hike, after traipsing along the banks of the River Ouse, in the pouring rain. I digress, although I must have walked past the Pelham on several past occasions, but never recognised the Pelham as a Hall & Woodhouse pub. 

It’s a large, white painted building, dating back to 1640, with plenty of original oak beams, an inglenook fireplace, plus a courtyard garden, and is full of age-old charm. The pub was the original home of the Abyss microbrewery which was housed in the pub's cellar but has now moved to larger premises elsewhere in the town. 

This leaves Badger Tanglefoot and Fursty Ferret, as the offerings for cask devotees, and I’m pleased to report that, after the bar manager pulled the line through for me, the Tanglefoot was in first class condition. As I said earlier, I must have walked passed the Pelham on a number of occasions, without noticing the owning brewery – I must be slipping, as I am normally aware of such things, so I’m assuming the pub is a fairly recent addition to the Badger stable. It’s certainly unusual to find an H&W pub this far east, and away from the brewery's Dorset home, but it’s well worth taking the trouble to visit.

The Pelham has a good reputation for its food, and even has its own smokery – get, you! It’s a bit of a hike up from the town centre, but there are regular buses, which include the No. 29 Brighton & Hove service, that operates between Brighton and Tunbridge Wells on a half-hourly basis (hourly on Sundays). There wasn’t time for me to linger though, so I made my way back along the High Street, before turning right into Station Road, and the train home. 

As reported in the previous post about Lewes, my homeward journey passed surprisingly smoothly, even if it did involve an additional change of train at Gatwick. It still took two hours which, when you consider that until 1969, there was a direct rail service between Tonbridge and Brighton (via Lewes), is proof that things have gone backwards in this country. Vested interests, corrupt politicians and a general lack of joined up thinking, have a lot to answer for, but that’s another story.