The best laid plans go astray, even on the buses

On Thursday, I joined a small group of local CAMRA members on what promised to be my second foray into darkest Sussex. The branch social secretary had arranged a visit to the village of Rotherfield, stopping off at the tiny settlement of Mark Cross on the way. Rotherfield is the neighbouring village to Mayfield which, if you remember, was the place I wanted to visit, following my bus ride out that way, at the end of last week. The CAMRA outing therefore seemed the perfect opportunity to experience Rotherfield’s two remaining pubs, whilst enjoying some pleasant, shared company, in the process. So, what could possibly go wrong?

West Kent CAMRA bus trips have an unfortunate habit of going astray, despite the often quite meticulous planning by the organisers, but that prospect was far from my head when I joined my fellow passengers ("bus wankers" according to Mrs PBT’s), at the bus stop out side Tunbridge Wells’s Royal Victoria Place, shopping centre.

I’d arrived in the Wells with plenty of time to spare, enough in fact to enjoy an expensive, but rather nice flat white coffee, from Café Nero. I normally get my coffee from Greggs, priced at just £2, but following Mrs PBT’s adage about getting what you pay for, bit the bullet and went for the posh option, which was nearly double, at £3.70! The barista, or whatever fancy name coffee chains give their coffee fixers/pourers, asked if I would like to try their promotional single variety, Brazilian beans? Same price? Was my response. No, 30p extra, was the reply. I politely informed him he could keep his Brazilian beans, and told him that I don’t respond well to up-selling, either!

Grumpy old git bit out of the way, I joined my CAMRA comrades as they boarded the bus. Being near the rear of the queue, I missed what the driver had said to them, but basically, due to road works (more road works?), narrow country lanes, and a not quite so narrow bus, the 51 would not be calling at Rotherfield until the works were finished.  (Note, how the powers that be, always describe such works as “essential.”) A brief crisis management discussion then ensued, which resulted in our party still boarding the bus, with the aim of alighting at Mark Cross, and the first pub of the day – the Lazy Fox. 

Formerly the Mark Cross Inn, this large pub has received an extensive makeover, and is now forms part of Elite Pubs, growing estate. You might remember me writing about another of the group’s pubs, the Vineyard at Lamberhurst where, as a family, we celebrated the final birthday of my sixtieth decade on this rock we call, Planet Earth.  

The Lazy Fox follows a similar pattern, with its tiled floors, floral-painted walls, and extensive dining areas complete with its own pizza oven. There are also reputed to be stunning views from the rear garden, but given the wet and windy conditions outside, we didn’t investigate this further. Whether the Fox counts as a true village “local” is open to question, although judging by the number of tables already occupied at quarter to one on a Thursday lunchtime, it is obviously a popular destination for the smart set who like to dine out.

We managed to find a couple of vacant tables, but not before ordering ourselves a beer, from a choice of Harvey’s Sussex Best or Sharp’s Solar Wave Hazy IPA. Oh no, a pint of murk, and whilst I normally avoid such abominations, I was feeling devilish that afternoon (something to do with the wind?), that I thought I’d give it a go. Described by the brewery as “a vibrant, golden, juicy, hazy IPA brewed to hit the sweet spot between fruitiness and hop bitterness,” I found it far more fruity than bitter, although it was perfectly acceptable – as a “one off”!

The great debate then ensued as to where to go next, or to stay at the Fox for something to eat. The wood-fired pizzas coming out of the oven, certainly looked tempting, although the prices seemed equally mouthwatering. Some members of the group succumbed, with one couple (not related), deciding to share one. The rest of us wanted to eat somewhere a bit more down to earth, but with Rotherfield and its two pubs denied to us, where to go next?

Mayfield with its excellent Rose & Crown, that I visited the week before seemed the obvious choice, but there were a couple of people in our part with mobility issues, and the walk to the pub along Fletching Street would have been too much. 

The Middle House Hotel was deemed too posh, so the only options were to board the next bus heading south and try our luck in places such as Five Ashes, or Heathfield, or head back towards Tunbridge Wells. The first option would take us into uncharted territory, whilst the second would take us to places that were more familiar. I was all for a bit of exploring, although it would have been stabbing in the dark somewhat, as a poor internet connection at the Fox, left us unable to check out sites, such as What Pub.

Northwards it was then, with the village of Frant our destination. We left the three members who were still eating, at the Fox, and upon leaving the bus at Frant, split into two with four of us heading to the Abergavenny Arms, whilst the other two making for the George Inn. I quite fancied trying the George, but it was the food offer at the Abergavenny that caught me attention. One member of the group had noticed a two courses for £12 offer, advertised in a local business magazine, and as we entered the pub there were some  leaflets promoting this offer. Most of us went for the haddock and chips, with a deep-fried, king prawn starter, although the pate and toast also looked a good, first-course option. Harvey’s Sussex Best was the sole cask offering, but it was in good form.

Whilst the Abergavenny wasn’t packed, it still seemed to be ticking over nicely, with two other tables of diners, no doubt taking advantage of the two for £12 offer. Before leaving, we were joined for a short period by the two members who went to the George. Harvey’s again was the cask option. I like the George, having called in there for the first time last summer, after completing a section of the Tunbridge Wells Circular Walk, but the four of us who ate at the Abergavenny definitely enjoyed the better deal. It was back on the bus again after that, although there was still no sign of the two people we’d left behind at Mark Cross. We later discovered that two buses in succession had been cancelled, leaving our friends stranded for another hour at Mark Cross.

We didn’t have far to travel to the next pub, which was the Bull on Frant Road, right on the edge of Tunbridge Wells. It’s a Shepherd Neame house, which probably explains why I had never been in there before, but despite this, the Bull appeared a pleasant, bright and airy pub, apart from there being no cask ale available. This was evident from the lack of pump-clips on any of the three, retro-looking, stainless steel hand pulls. The young barmaid was quite apologetic about the situation, but they’d only had their delivery that morning, and the beer hadn’t had time to clear.

Oh dear, we’re the Campaign for Real Ale, and there’s no real ale for us to drink. I was tempted to stay for a glass of Beavertown, and might well have done had my companions not decided to leave. (One member stayed for a short while, in order to update the Bull’s What Pub entry). I felt bad about leaving, but as one of my companions said, later on, what sort of pub let’s its cask stocks run so low, that they end up with none ready for sale? There might have been a perfectly rational explanation, but given the situation, I left the Bull along with my companions and headed down to the Pantiles area of Tunbridge Wells, on foot.

The Pantiles is the oldest, and most famous part of the Wells, and the pub we were making for once had a legendary reputation in the town. Tucked away in a small courtyard, the Sussex Arms has mellowed over the years back to something that resembles what it was like before the revamp and tart-up the pub received when that area of the Pantiles was “gentrified" in the late 1980’s. It’s never going to be quite the same as it was when the legendary Dennis and Barbara Lane were the licensees – and you can read my thoughts about the old Sussex here.

There was a good line up of beers on the bar, including a couple from the local Fonthill Brewing Co, who based in a stale block behind the George public house on Mount Ephraim, at the other end of Tunbridge Wells. Psychedelic Jungle West Coast IPA, a hoppy and fruity IPA, but being “West Coast” it is bright, rather than hazy. There was a pleasant and relaxed atmosphere inside the Sussex that afternoon, and the pub certainly felt like a comfortable and secure haven from the wind and the rain outside.

We visited one more pub that afternoon, which was Fuggles at the top end of Tunbridge Wells. The less mobile and less fit members of the party travelled up by bus, whilst the rest of us walked up, despite the hilly nature of the town. Fuggles was buzzing when we arrived, although there were still sufficient spare seats and tables where we could base ourselves. Also present in the pub, were several other CAMRA members and sympathisers.

As with the Sussex Arms, the beer range at Fuggles was exemplary, and star of the show was a beer from Thornbridge Brewery, brewed using one of the Burton Union sets. 90 Shilling, described as an American Amber Ale, is said to be a version of the 90/- Ale brewed by Colorado-based Odell Brewing Company. Whatever its origin, and its make-up, it was the best beer of the day, and that includes some excellent Harvey’s at the Abergavenny.

So, not quite the day out we had been expecting, but nevertheless an interesting and enjoyable one. The only downside, for me, was not visiting Rotherfield, but that can easily be rectified at a later date.