Finally, after 42 years, the Wheel Inn at Westwell

I said in the previous article that despite living less than 10 miles away, I was of the opinion I had never visited the tiny village of Westwell. That may well be true, but standing outside the Wheel Inn, in the centre of the village last Friday, did bring a faint ray of recognition, and this got me thinking.

I spent my formative years in East Kent, having moved there from London, at the age of three, with my parents. We lived in a newly built semi in the village of Willesborough which, even then, was more or less a suburb of Ashford. When I was 14 years old, the family moved out to the country, buying another modern property, this time a detached bungalow in the village of Brook.

My parents seemed to have had a fascination with recently built properties, as the bungalow in Norfolk, they retired to, was also relatively new. None of this is really relevant, but it is only when you start looking back, that you pick up on these things.

More to the point, apart from a fondness of trips to Tenterden, my parents didn’t tend to travel much to the west of Ashford. I am not sure why, but for some reason they preferred going east, and this meant the coast, and towns such as Folkestone, Hythe and Sandgate. There was also Romney Marsh, with its associated beaches.

It wasn’t until I received my first motorbike, at the age of 16, that I was able to travel independently of my parents. Prior to that I relied on “dad’s taxi,” as bus services were limited, and even then, were being cut back. I had a push-bike and used it daily for my early morning paper round but cycling much further than the neighbouring village of Wye, was more or less unheard of.

Wye was the gateway to Canterbury, as far as my friends and I were concerned. We would cycle to the village, leave our bikes at the station, and then take the train into Canterbury. Brook itself, lies at the foot of North Downs escarpment, and the hilly nature of the local terrain may have been the factor that put me off cycling, or perhaps I was just lazy – as teenagers often are. 

When I obtained that motorbike, I joined up with a school friend, and we rode all over Romney Marsh, visiting local pubs. Yet again, for some reason, we never travelled to the other side of the Stour valley.

I returned to live in Kent after an absence of five and a half years; three years as a student at Salford University, plus an additional year at Manchester Polytechnic. I wonder what the latter institution is known as these days. This was followed by a year and a half living in the Norbury area of south London.

That return to Kent came in late 1978, when the previous Mrs Bailey and I bought a small, terraced house house in Maidstone. Property was much cheaper in the county town than in our preferred location of Sevenoaks. This was despite my first wife having a well-paid job with the MOD in Central London.

 I also worked in the capital, after landing a full-time position, working in my chosen field of quality control, but a few months after moving to Maidstone, I secured a job in nearby Tonbridge. This not only paid considerably more, but at a stroke removed the expensive commute into London.

We didn’t have a car back then, so explored most of the nearer pubs by bike instead, occasionally venturing further afield by train. Lenham was probably the limit of our eastward ventures, which coincidentally was the boundary between Maidstone and Ashford CAMRA branches. Westwell never really feature on the radar, and given its isolated position, on the road to nowhere, this wasn’t really surprising.

So, 42 years after my return to Kent, my walk last Friday, along the NDW finally provided the opportunity of visiting Westwell and its pub. I am pleased to report, is still trading, and offering good beer, food for those who want it, and a friendly welcome.

Whilst doing a spot of research for this article, I came across an old CAMRA guide to Real Ale in Kent. Published in 1993, the guide describes the Wheel as a multi-roomed pub, belonging to Shepherd Neame, but a much older guide shows it as a Whitbread house. Today, it is a free house, listed on WhatPub as stocking Fuller’s London Pride, plus a couple of local guest ales.

I hadn’t pre-booked a table or anything, when I stepped inside the Wheel, primarily as I was uncertain of my time of arrival. With no-one else in the pub when I arrived, that was not a problem., so after signing in (no track and trace for me), I was directed to a table opposite the bar counter.

With no pump clips visible, I was concerned there was no cask ale available, but the friendly barmaid informed me there were two beers from Musket Brewery on tap - Trigger and Ball Puller. I opted for the former, a crisp, hoppy and refreshing pale ale of moderate strength, that really hit the spot, as far as its thirst-quenching properties were concerned.

The photos show the interior, painted in contemporary colours, which adds both light and colour to what might otherwise have been a dull interior. However, being something of a traditionalist, I prefer the feel that goes with darkened wood wall paneling and floors, that are normally associated with a centuries’ old village inn.

No matter, the pub seemed to be doing just fine, as shortly after I arrived, two separate couples arrived and ordered some food. They asked if they could sit outside in the garden, and under normal circumstances that would have been my preference as well. But with pubs only just re-opened for indoor drinking, I wanted to show my support for this welcome return to some semblance of reality. I also couldn’t resist the simple pleasure of just being able to sit there, enjoying a nice cool pint of locally brewed beer, along with a packet of crisps.

My first visit to the Wheel Inn proved worthy of that long wait, but with Westwell really being on the road to nowhere, the village really is a place where it’s necessary to make a detour. For ramblers, walking the North Downs Way, the detour amounts to just half a mile, and comes as highly recommended.