In eager anticipation.........

It’s strange, although possibly just a fact of life, but in the space of just a couple of days I’ve gone from having nothing to write about, to having a real abundance. As anticipated, Friday’s visit to the Black Country, postponed from last August due to me contracting COVID, has provided a wealth of material, ranging from some truly classic and unspoilt pubs that offered beers from a number of small, family-owned breweries, which have managed to survive from a time that predates the birth of CAMRA.

Three of the five pubs visited had been on my bucket list for many years, so it was doubly satisfying to experience them at first hand, and be able to enjoy some truly excellent beers, in surroundings that have changed little over the past century. Sharing these riches with others who not only appreciate them but are much more familiar with their charms than I am, added to the experience.

Before launching into a full-blown article about my day out in the Black Country, I want to finish off a piece which I’d started earlier in the week. It is one which designed to tie in a few of the loose threads left over from a previous article about the joys of going out for breakfast at the weekend, so please bear with me until this post is out of the way. I mentioned in my Ides of March post that the lad and I were planning on enjoying a Sunday breakfast at a local pub, but as is sometimes the case, the best laid plans can often go astray. This was certainly the case last Sunday when, after selecting the Ivy House in Tonbridge, as somewhere to enjoy a traditional English breakfast, we ended up being disappointed.

The Ivy House is one of the oldest buildings in Tonbridge. It is an attractive old tile-hung building which dates back to the 15th Century. Formerly known as the Elephant & Castle, the pub is said to take its name from the mass of ivy that once covered the exterior. The pub has had quite a chequered history, particularly in recent years. When I first came to Tonbridge, it was a two-bar establishment, popular with bikers and those of a slightly "bohemian" disposition. Later, when I last worked in Tonbridge (1996-2001), the Ivy House had a good reputation for food, and the company I worked took full advantage of this and used the pub as somewhere to wine and dine visiting customers.

There has been several changes at the Ivy House, since that time, the most recent being just after the pandemic. Mrs PBT’s has been in the pub more times than I have, since those changes, having dined there, with friends, on several occasions, and following her recommendation, I decided that Matthew and I would give the pub’s breakfast option a try. When we arrived the other Sunday, it seemed as if half the population of Tonbridge were also there for the same purpose, as the place was heaving. We were asked whether we had a reservation, and whilst I had considered making one, I decided against this, primarily because I was unsure of the time, we would be ready.

The discipline of rising at a certain time for work, during the week, leads to a much more relaxed feeling at weekends, and because of this I didn’t want to commit to a specific time. I had also noticed from the pub’s website, that “walk-ins” were available, so to my mind, at least, there was no requirement to book a table. Unfortunately, the girl on the door advised they could only honour bookings, due to the non-appearance of a member of the kitchen staff. Sorry, and all that, but as mentioned above, we could see the situation the pub was in, so we thanked her and departed, in search of somewhere else.

Time was getting on, so when Matthew suggested Spoons, I agreed, much to his surprise. We walked back along the High Street, dodging the puddles produced by the heavy rainfall, and whilst the Humphrey Bean was also very busy, managed to find a table on the raised section, away from family groups with their “well-behaved” little darlings. The Spoons offering was around half the price of that in the Ivy House, or at least the £4.99 Traditional Breakfast I opted for was. Being a growing lad, Matthew ordered the £6.59, Large Breakfast – quelle surprise, so after bunging him sufficient to cover my repast, plus a refillable coffee, I despatched him to the bar, and settled down to read about the current Spoons Beer Festival.

There was a time when I wouldn’t have missed one of these, and it’s encouraging that Tim is continuing with them, including the practice of visiting brewers from overseas, visiting these shores in order to brew a special beer, based on a brew that is available in their home country. Companies with sufficient capacity, such as Banks, Adnam’s and Fuller’s usually provide the facilities and equipment necessary to produce such beers, but being something of a purist, I would rather have the real thing, imported from the visiting brewers home country. To my mind, these guest “foreign” brews lack the provenance associated with the real thing, although I’ve been criticised as a "beer snob” before, for expressing such views.

I mentioned that the Humphrey Bean was crowded, and I believe this was due to the inclement weather. Sunday morning is traditionally the time for those families with sporty off-spring, to bring their charges down to the sports ground, a large flat area, enclosed by a loop of the river Medway that contains a large number of playing fields – football as well as rugby. These sports mad kids can let off steam to their hearts content, whilst their parents (usually the fathers), shout words of encouragement from the touchline. Sometimes, when emotions are running high, the encouraging words will be exchanged for insults, which doesn’t set a good example, but these highly competitive, "pushy parent" types, forget that what takes place on the pitches is only a game!

The staff at the Humphrey Bean coped admirably, with the larger than expected number of customers, and I was quite happy sitting there enjoying several flat white coffees from the reliable machine, before our breakfasts arrived. The pub itself, seemed to have mellowed somewhat from what I remember, or perhaps it was just me in a more relaxed mood.