Finally, the Chafford Arms

Have you ever been in one of those situations where there's a pub you've been longing to visit, and somehow, despite your best efforts, circumstances and situations seem to work against you. You end up being thwarted, sometimes even at the last minute, and before you realise months or even years have passed by, and you still haven’t paid the place a visit. It’s even worse when the pub is a local one, and there’s been no real excuse why you couldn’t have visited it before.

One such pub, that is only about 8 miles away from here, is the Chafford Arms at Fordcombe - a small village, situated between Penshurst and Groombridge. The Chafford is an attractive, part brick and part stone, tile-hung pub dating back to the middle of the 19^th Century which stands on the edge of Fordcombe, at the top of the steep and aptly named Spring Hill. There is an extensive garden at the rear of the pub, affording fine views over the upper Medway Valley.  

I've known the Chafford Arms on and off, for the past 20 years or so, but looking back, the last time I visited the pub was in 2010. That was when a small group of us walked there from Tunbridge Wells, following a route that took us out across the town's extensive common. Earlier, the same year, I called in at the Chafford, with a friend, whilst walking the Weald Way long distance footpath. On that particular occasion, Eric and I stopped at the pub for lunch, after setting off earlier that morning, from our homes in Tonbridge. We were looking to complete what, for us, would be the third stage of the walk, after setting off two days previously from the start of the Weald Way on the banks of the Thames estuary, at Gravesend.

We were heading for the tiny hamlet of Withyham where we would spend the night, before carrying on towards the end of the trail at Eastbourne. The Chafford Arms was the ideal stopping off point, and somewhere we could get a meal, sink a couple of pints, and refill our water bottles. I therefore retained fond memories of the pub, particularly as both the food and the beer, were top class, on both previous visits. Given all those years in between, it's surprising I hadn't managed a return visit, but the Chafford is not that easy to reach by public transport (it's not impossible, but there's only one viable bus in each direction, during daylight hours, and none at all of course in the evening).

It’s a traditional pub in every sense of the word, meaning that it closes between 3 and 6 pm, so this is another thing to factor in when planning a visit. Matthew and I attempted one about a year ago but were unable to get in the car park. Thinking back, it was a Sunday, which probably wasn't the wisest of moves, as the Chafford is popular with diners at the weekend. Another point to bear in mind is the pub is closed on Mondays, as Matthew and I discovered a couple of months ago. Perhaps you’ll appreciate now, whilst it’s taken so long to achieve that return visit.

As luck would have it, Thursday evening provided the ideal opportunity. Mrs PBT’s was meeting up with a group of her girly friends for a meal at the Ivy House pub in Tonbridge, so after dropping her and two of her mates off at the pub, Matthew and I were free to head out to Fordcombe. I took the precaution of phoning in advance because I didn't want to be disappointed again, but Thursday proved a quiet night, possibly due to the dampness of the weather and the fall in temperature. The last day of August and the last day of summer, proved something of a damp squib, as could be said the summer in general.

We arrived at the Chafford bang on the dot of our stated arrival time, and we were obviously expected. A table for two had been laid out in a section of the Lounge Bar, and after a group of diners seated, a short distance away, finished their meal and departed, we had that particular part of the pub to ourselves. A couple of young female graduates were sat in the area behind us. I know they were graduates because they’d been talking about coursework and final examinations, and we couldn’t help overhearing their conversation, but apart from the two ladies, we had the bar to ourselves.

Things were different in the Public Bar, where there seemed to be quite a lot of laughter and banter going on. I'm delighted to say that the Chafford has that rarest of things these days, namely two bars, although some of us are old enough to remember when two or more bars in a pub, was the norm. It’s no exaggeration to say that having two, or sometimes even more bars in a pub was a good idea, and the misguided brewers, pub companies and private landlords who knocked down the dividing walls, to create a barn-like space, in the name of egalitarianism, have a lot to answer for.

I didn't recognise the landlady, but I certainly recognised her husband, due to his distinctive Geordie accent. Having just two cask ales on the bar seems to work well for the pub, with Larkin’s Traditional and Harvey’s Sussex Best representing a line-up that has been unchanged for many years, and I'm pretty certain this choice has not changed since my last visit 13 years ago. I went for Harvey’s, which was in fine form, whilst Matthew, who had to be different, went for an Amstel.

Food wise I opted for the fish pie, always a favourite in my book. Matthew chose scampi and chips, and his plate was really piled high with both chips and Dublin Bay prawns (was that really what people used to call scampi?). The fish pie was excellent - smoked cod, salmon & crayfish in a creamy sauce topped with cheesy mash, according to the menu, served with fresh steamed vegetables, for those who like to get their five a day.

The pub itself was spotlessly clean and well kept, with a friendly welcome and a good all-round ambience. For those not offended by 1960’s seaside postcards, there was some really corny examples in the gents. I couldn’t resist a photo, so for fans of “toilet porn” here are a few relics from a bygone, and much simpler age. We didn’t venture into the Public Bar, on this occasion, but as I discovered, 13 years ago, it’s ideal for walkers – with potentially muddy boots, people with dogs, or just those who appreciate slightly simpler and more basic surroundings.

Matthew, who was rather dismissive when I suggested a visit, “it’s never open,” was his comment, ended up being won over, and I shall also be taking Mrs PBT’s along to the Chafford, next time she fancies a meal out. The ladies she dined with, that same evening, were also full of praise for the Ivy House, so perhaps after a slightly bumpy recent history, that pub is also delivering in terms of good food and ambience – no reports about the beer, though!