A Sarah Hughes surprise at the Nelson Arms

After the last, rather lengthy post, here is a much shorter one, not just for balance but more because the narrative can be told in just a couple of pages. What I'm going to write about, is how a slice of the West Midlands - Black Country came to Tonbridge last weekend and how, surprisingly, few people actually realised what they missed. Some of you may remember that, just over a year ago, I wrote a piece detailing my tour around a few of the Black Country’s finest and most characterful public houses. My companion and guide for that tour was local expert, Stafford Paul. Apart from the obvious candidate of the Vine at Brierley Hill, the pub which forms the brewery tap for the legendary Batham’s Brewery, there were several other standout pubs, and chief amongst them was the Beacon Hotel at Sedgley. This classic Black Country pub is made all the more famous by having its own brewery on site.

The Beacon Hotel & Brewery was built around 1850, with the first licence being granted two years later. Since then, the pub and brewery have remained virtually unchanged for decades. The Beacon is an English Heritage listed building with an historic pub interior, of national importance, and it really is a place where time has stood still. The traditional Black Country Victorian tower brewery and public house was bought at auction in 1921 by Sarah Hughes. Sarah Hughes was a legendary character who ran both pub and brewery, and she continued brewing beers at the Beacon until her death in 1951. Her son Alfred continued the tradition for a further six years, before brewing ceased, altogether, but rather than remove and demolish the attached brewery, the plant was mothballed.

Then, after a 30-year lapse, Sarah’s grandson John Hughes, lovingly restored the brewery, giving it a complete overall overhaul, by replacing any broken worn or missing parts, and in 1987 brewing re-commenced at the Beacon. In tribute to his legendary grandmother, John produced a strong, dark beer called Sarah Hughes Ruby Mild, weighing in at 6.4%, a strength that is far higher than your average mild. Today, this labyrinth-like pub has several drinking rooms based around a small central hatchway, that serves the beers brewed in the tower brewery, at the back of this Grade II listed pub.

It was a bit of a mad dash last year for Paul and me to get to the Beacon on time, because the pub is one of the few which still observe a period of afternoon closing time. Paul had worked out a bus route which ought to have got us to the pub, for at least one pint, before the start of the afternoon break, but a combination of roadworks and heavy traffic meant that we almost missed our window of opportunity. Fortunately, we have indomitable Good Beer Guide ticker Martin Taylor to thank for his efforts that afternoon. Martin had joined Paul and I at the equally historic Old Swan, at Netherton, a pub also known as Ma’ Pardoe’s after its former legendary landlady. We thought there would be plenty of time, but the road conditions seemed determined to thwart us. With the clock ticking, Martin left the bus and went on ahead, half walking and half jogging, leaving Paul and I sitting on the bus, wondering whether he would make it or not.

I'm pleased to report that Martin made it to the Beacon by the skin of his teeth, and when Paul and I arrived at this wonderfully unspoiled Black Country local, there was a pint mug of the legendary Sarah Hughes Dark Mild, waiting for each of us on the bar. The bar staff had just called time, so a massive thank-you to Martin for saving the day. At 6.4%, the home-brewed ale wasn’t one to rush, but interestingly enough the pub management seemed in no hurry to turf any of us out the door. So, having achieved my quest to sample this legendary beer, I was content to commit the Beacon Hotel to blessed memory.

Fast forward to last weekend, when I happened to notice a post, on social media, advising that the Nelson Arms in Tonbridge, would be featuring two beers from the legendary Beacon Hotel. Naturally, Sarah Hughes Dark Mild was one of them, but the second was a light-coloured, 5% bitter called Sarah Hughes Surprise. With this in mind I was determined to get along to the Nelson in order to sample both beers. As it happened, I wasn’t able to visit the pub until Sunday afternoon and not knowing whether either of these beers would still be on sale, I stepped inside the Nelson with a sense of trepidation.

My fears vanished, after seeing clips for both beers displayed on the pumps. The pub was surprisingly quiet for 3 o’clock on a Sunday afternoon, but a combination of inclement weather, plus the start of the school holidays was probably to blame. The cosy, snug bar to the far right of the pub, was empty, leaving me a choice of tables and comfy chairs. I got stuck into both of the beers, although largely reserving the stronger dark mild until last. The Surprise was a new one for me, and was a typical, West Midlands, light bitter, but as in March 2024, the Sarah Hughes Dark Mild was definitely the star of the show.

A Tunbridge Wells stagger

Last Thursday afternoon I enjoyed a long overdue catch up with my old walking partner, Eric. I say overdue because the idea of meeting up had been on the agenda, for quite some time, but somehow things always seemed to have got in the way. One would think that me switching to part time working, would have freed up a lot more time, but somehow, this didn’t seem to be the case.  

Friday might have worked, if my GP’s practice hadn’t booked me in for a shingles vaccination on that day. I could, of course, re-arranged the jab, but having known several people who contracted shingles – including Eileen’s late brother, who copped a particularly nasty bout of this “dormant” infection, I wanted to protect myself, now that I’m eligible. (David spent the Christmas of 2022, on a hospital trolley, waiting for a bed to become free. A few weeks later, he sadly passed away. Although the cause of death, wasn’t directly connected to shingles, we’re convinced that it severely weakened his immune system).

Thursday then, seemed as good a time as any, because although I act as a chauffeur for Mrs PBT's, in order to get her to and from her Thursday part time job, at a local scaffolding company, it meant that after 3pm I was a free man. We had tentatively looked at a late afternoon/early evening in Hastings, but with an hour's train journey, there and back, it would eat too much into our drinking and pub exploration time. Instead, we decided on a wander around neighbouring Tunbridge Wells, taking in a few of the pubs and bars on the way.

Now jumping on a bus at 3pm, just as the local schools were chucking out, probably wasn't the wisest of moves, and whilst we could have taken the train, both of us have bus passes, allowing us free travel. In addition, arriving at Tunbridge Wells rail station, would have meant a long walk back up the hill to reach the start of our planned pub walkabout. Our journey took us through Southborough and St Johns, and this was where we encountered significant congestion. Parents collecting their children in large SUVs and then trying to squeeze their vehicles through narrow gaps, didn’t help, and whilst many school kids do use public transport, the number of schools in this area has always been an issue, so far as traffic density is concerned.

Despite the congestion, we still reached the George, our starting point, just after 4pm. This former coaching inn, is situated opposite the site of the former Kent & Sussex Hospital (back in the day known as the “Kent & Snuffit.”)  The hospital has since been replaced by an unusual development of upscale houses and villas, which although commanding premium prices, fail to stand out architecturally, and offer little to write home about. 

I’d been meaning to visit the George for some time, especially as I can't even remember the last time I was in there. From memory that visit was for a CAMRA - related function several years ago. In 1739, the George was a coaching inn for those travelling between Tunbridge Wells and London, and with its graceful exterior, plus an interior full of exposed beams, brickwork, fireplaces, and oak floorboards, still exudes warmth and nostalgia from every corner.

When we reached the pub, we noticed a number of buildings to the left of the main building, one of which is home to the Fonthill Brewing Co, a relatively new establishment which supplies beer not only to the George but also to two other pubs belonging to the same group. (The Ragged Trousers, plus the Sussex Arms). The free trade is also supplied. 

Although the brewery has been operating for several years, I had not encountered their beers before, so stepping inside the George, we had the opportunity to try a couple. Actually, there were cask options from Fonthill, plus several of their keg beers available. We sampled two of the former, the first of which was rapidly consumed, due to the warm weather and the requirement to remain hydrated. So Good Morning Captain – a salute one should always give to a magpie, plus Creedence American Pale Ale. Weighing in at 3.9% and 4.6% abv, respectively, both beers were good, and it was difficult to choose between the two.

Whilst in the pub, we couldn’t help noticing a tall and rather stylish looking lady, striding around the bar. She was armed with a rather large and expensive looking camera, and after engaging with her briefly, we discovered that she’d just finished a photo-shoot for Fonthill. She explained that Fonthill was getting ready to launch its own taproom, housed in an outbuilding, adjacent to the brewery. 

She didn't know when the opening would be taking place, but she gathered it must be fairly soon. We agreed, as another watering hole for the good citizens of Tunbridge Wells, seemed like a good idea. Later on, noticing that the sky darkened I wandered out onto the top of the rear staircase, which overlooks the site below. You can see from the photograph, just how hilly this area of Tunbridge Wells is, and also how the pub management has fully utilised the available space. As the pub started to fill up, we decided it was time to move on and head off into the centre of Tunbridge Wells.

Our next port of call what's the Tunbridge Wells outlet of Fuggles, opened in 2013 and situated close to the main shopping area, this particular Fuggles is the original beer café. Personally, I prefer the company’s Tonbridge pub, but living in the town I would say that, wouldn’t I?  My preference isn't just based on location geographical location, but instead is because I find Tunbridge Wells one rather closed in. 

It is housed in a long and quite narrow former shop unit, with little in the way of natural light - apart from what comes in through the front windows. The Tonbridge outlet, on the other hand, is far more a proper pub, than a corridor, with plenty of natural light and a bright and airy feel to it. Don't get me wrong, as both are good, and both serving excellent beer. I also get the feeling that the two outlets have a certain degree of autonomy, regarding the beers stocked, and the food offering – see below. However, if the group manages to source a particularly interesting, or sought after beer, you will normally find it on sale in both outlets.

We arrived shortly after 6pm, and I found myself experiencing mild hunger pangs. Had I been more attentive, I might have suggested we dine at the George. However, I was aware that Fuggles, though not offering full meals, provides an interesting and extensive selection of snack foods. I inquired about hot dogs, but unlike its Tonbridge counterpart, the Tunbridge Wells location lacks the space and equipment for this option. Instead, they recommended a snack known as a "Reuben". The Reuben sandwich is a North American grilled sandwich typically consisting of corned beef, Swiss cheese, and sauerkraut. 

For context, I recall enjoying my first Reuben during a visit to the United States approximately eighteen years ago. At Fuggles, their version was a baguette filled with hot pastrami, accompanied by a generous serving of cornichons—those small, pickled gherkins. Priced reasonably at £9, I decided to try one, and seeing my choice, Eric opted for the same. My food arrived first, and due to limited seating, we ate standing at the bar, enjoying our meal alongside a well-crafted Larkins Pale Ale—a rare offering. True to its name, this beer is pale in colour, differing from the copper-bronze hue that is typical of the other Larkin’s beers. It is also notably well-hopped, as well.

We noticed local CAMRA member Taxi Dave, sitting in the pub, enjoying a pint. He left Fuggles at the same time as us and joined us on the walk down towards the Pantiles. He left us at the bus stop, and we hadn’t gone far when Eric said, we should have done the same. I declined, as I needed the exercise, as well as some fresh air to clear my head, so we carried on downhill, until we reached the historic Pantiles area of Tunbridge Wells. The pub we were making was the Ragged Trousers and as alluded to above is owned by the Fonthill Collective, the same group as the George and the nearby Sussex Arms.

Established in 2006, the Ragged Trousers was founded on a shoestring budget, by a group of five friends. The group were looking for a place close to the Forum, where people could gather for pre-gig drinks and again when the club closed. The Forum is an independent music venue that opened in 1993, and the building it occupies is a former public toilet! The vision that the friends had, extended beyond opening just another watering hole, to one that envisioned transforming the Pantiles from a sleepy shopping area to a bustling destination for events, food, and drinks. If the Pantiles was the slumbering heart of Tunbridge Wells, their pub would be the catalyst to bring the area to life.

Nineteen years later, the friends’ vision has extended beyond their wildest dreams, and today the Ragged Trousers is at the centre of the lively and bustling area that the Pantiles has become. We experienced some of this ourselves, on our way to the pub, and afterwards when we visited the nearby Duke of York. 

The “Ragged,” as the pub is referred to locally, offers a similar range of drinks to the George, with cask ales, craft ales, and signature cocktails alongside authentic French brasserie cuisine and traditional British pub classics. The “Ragged” takes its name from the semi-biographical novel, by Robert Tressell, who based the book on some of his own experiences of poverty and exploitation, during the early 1900's in nearby Hastings. Back in my student days, I remember the book being serialised on Radio Four, and it's  a book that is still on my reading list. Longman Best Bitter, plus Fonthill Good Morning Captain, were the two cask offerings at the Ragged, and we both found the Longman beer to be on good form.

Our final port of call was the nearby Duke of York an early 18^th Century pub, on a prominent corner site, close to the historic Chalybeate spring, that established Tunbridge Wells as a spa town. Its position, right at the heart of the Pantiles, makes the pub stand out, and as an added bonus, the DOY is owned by Fuller’s of Chiswick, brewers of London Pride and ESB (amongst others). 

Like the Ragged, the Duke was heaving, although most of the customers were sat outside, making the most of the UK’s third heatwave, in as many weeks. A bank of five hand-pulls adorns the counter, offering a range of Fuller’s beers that included Pride, ESB, Dark Star and Gale's Seafarers. I opted for the latter, as it’s a beer we don’t often see in Kent – although I did manage to track some down in Portsmouth, earlier in the year. We joined the throng of people sitting outside, most of whom were younger than us. We found out later, that the university summer term had just finished, meaning many students had headed back to their home towns, and villages. 

This snippet of information was relayed by a very pleasant young lady, who got chatting to me whilst Eric headed back inside, to buy another round. She was waiting for her sister, and a couple of friends to arrive, so rather than burying her face in her phone, took the opportunity to talk, instead. 

As a former university student myself, the experience brought back some pleasant, end of term memories. It was a good way to end, what had been a most enjoyable visit to Tunbridge Wells, and the opportunity to sample, and enjoy the whole "Pantiles experience” was certainly not one to be missed. The group of friends, who opened the Ragged Trousers, with that aim in mind, certainly succeeded, helped, of course, by the other similarly minded businesses, who were also attracted to this attractive area of the historic spa town.

 

 

Escaping the heatwave, with a refreshingly cool, pint of porter, at a nicely, chilled-out Fuggles

Last Friday, on one of the hottest days of the year so far – and 2025 has been quite a year when it comes to record breaking temperatures, I took a stroll down into Tonbridge, ostensibly to run a couple of errands. My real objective though was to call in at Fuggles, one of the town’s best beer outlets and sample the cask porter they had on tap. Now you wouldn’t normally associate a rich, dark, and full-bodied beer like porter with a drink to be enjoyed during a heatwave, but you’d be wrong – a fact I soon discovered for myself despite some quite serious, doubts initially.

The beer in question was Running Porter 5.4% abv from The Kernel Brewery. The definite article is important here, which is why it’s shown with an upper case “T”, but it’s an integral part of the beer’s title, and the same thing applies to all beers produced by the brewery. The Kernel was established in 2009 by Evin O'Riordain in the Bermondsey area of London and was one of the capital’s earliest craft brewers. Today it is regarded as one of London's premier craft beer breweries, and whilst much of The Kernel’s output is bottles, plus some keg beer, the company does brew some beers for cask as well.

Since its founding, The Kernel’s success has inspired the growth of numerous micro-breweries in the capital. London remains the company’s main trading area, with around 90 percent of the beer produced, being distributed within the Greater London area. The brewery offers a variety of beer styles, including American-inspired pale ales, IPAs, sours, plus classic London porters and stouts. "Table Beer," a 3% abv pale ale, first introduced in 2012, and now brewed weekly, is now one of the company’s most popular offerings. The beer draws its inspiration from the British cask-conditioned tradition. The Kernel focuses on refining each brew rather than experimenting unnecessarily, evolving each batch intentionally, although the hop varieties used do change regularly, based on crop availability and annual differences.

I’ve known Fuggles since 2013, when it first opened its doors in a former shop, a short hop away from Tunbridge Wells’s main shopping centre. Describing itself as a Beer Café, Fuggles showcases beers from all over the world, and whilst the number of “craft” beer lines it boasts is around three times that of the “cask” the outlet is always a reliable bet for a decent pint of cask. Cask drinkers can also take advantage of the loyalty card that Fuggles offer, which works on the basis of a stamp on your card for every pint of cask purchased, with a free pint for a full house of ten stamps. The Tonbridge outlet commenced serving thirsty punters back in 2017, in an old furniture makers shop at the top end of the High Street, and as well as being the nearest of the two Fuggles pubs, is also my favourite.

Tonbridge Fuggles is air-conditioned, and its cool interior was a welcome contrast to the fierce heat outside. The pub wasn’t particularly busy, although I noticed a large section of the area facing the bar, was cordoned off, with several tables grouped together. “Reserved for a Private Function,” said the sign, for an event that was due to commence in a couple of hours’ time. Founder and owner, Alex Grieg was behind the bar, at the far end, not serving, but catching up on paperwork, by the look of things. We shouted a quick “hello” to one another, but as he was obviously engrossed with the task in hand, I let him be, rather than stroll over and interrupt what he was doing.

There was a nice, and really chilled out atmosphere in the pub, last Friday, and I don’t just mean from the air con.  The barman pulled my pint of Running Porter, and as the jet-black beer, settled in the glass, it took on a really attractive appearance as the tight, creamy head started to form. Well-conditioned, and served chilled, it was the ideal beer for a baking hot day, strange though it seems. 

I didn’t rush my beer, but neither did I gulp it straight down, I was just content to sit there, chilling out, quite literally, whilst remaining in the moment. The spell was broken, and the heat really hit me, when I had to leave the pub and call in at Waitrose, to pick up a few groceries for Mrs PBT’s. I then caught the bus home, as no way was, I going to walk back up the hill, to Bailey Towers.  

 So, a nice midday interlude, made all the better by an excellent pint of beer, in a place that continues to increase in stature, and which seldom disappoints in terms of beer variety, quality, service and general, all-round good time vibes.

 

 

When is a beer, not a beer?

Question, when is the beer not a beer? Answer, when it's a brand. So, what exactly do I mean by that statement? Basically, several named beers, that were formerly part of a brewer’s portfolio, evolve to become brands in their own right. So instead of having X beer you have several different varieties of X beer, all marketed under the name of the original. Meaning that what was once a single beer, has now morphed into an all-encompassing brand. I'm going to list a few examples to illustrate the point I'm trying to get across.

At present, the most prolific brand in the beer world, and to my mind, the most cynical example of this is the well-known Hobgoblin brand. Hobgoblin was originally a dark amber, mid-strength, beer produced by the Wychwood Brewery, based in Witney, Oxfordshire. The brewery was known for its character-based label artwork, inspired by the myths and legends surrounding the ancient Wychwood Forest. Purchased by Marston's plc in 2008, Hobgoblin grew to become one of the fastest growing premium beer brands in the UK, and today, despite the closure in November 2023, of the original Witney Brewery, is now Marston’s best selling ale brand, with around 45 million pints sold in the past 12 months alone. The brand is currently owned by Carlsberg Britvic and the 5.2% abv Hobgoblin, is the company's flagship brand in the ale/bitter sector.

Hobgoblin is a Ruby coloured mid-strength bitter, promoted by the use of a clever advertising campaign featuring a slightly threatening and quite nasty looking little chap called a Hobgoblin. Back in the day there was a poster circulating, and I probably still got my coffee somewhere at home, where the hobgoblin's raises a glass almost to his lips, turns round and says, “What's the matter lager boy? Afraid you might taste something?” Wychwood did pretty well out of that campaign but now, with Danish money behind them and the closure of the Witney Brewery in Oxfordshire, other “hobgoblin” beers have started to appear. Just take a look at the beer aisles in most major supermarkets, and you won’t just see plain old Hobgoblin, but instead you will find Hobgoblin Ruby, Hobgoblin Gold, Hobgoblin Session IPA, Hobgoblin Original IPA, Hobgoblin Amber, Hobgoblin Stout, and a strong beer known as King Goblin. So, what was once just a single beer is now a “brand” and in theory, they could add other beers to that such as a lager, or a “craft” brew to the range, to complete the circle.

A similar scenario has unfolded with Kent based, brewer, Shepherd Neame, who claim to be Britain’s oldest brewer. The company launched Spitfire Premium Kentish Ale back in the early 1990's, and with its references to the Second World War fighter plane and it's none too subtle digs at the Germans, the beer was a runaway success. Despite this I was never a massive fan of Spitfire, or indeed most other Shepherd Neame beers, but in line with the developments at Marston’s several other Spitfire beers have been launched. These include Spitfire Gold plus Spitfire Lager. I’m assuming that Spitfire Amber, is the new name for the original Spitfire beer, but as with Hobgoblin, what was once just a named beer within the brewery’s range, has now become an all-encompassing brand,

To a lesser extent, a similar situation occurred with Wainwrights, a beer originally brewed by Blackburn based Thwaites, to commemorate the legendary, Lake District fell-walker, Alfred Wainwright. For those unfamiliar with the latter gentleman, Alfred Wainwright was a dedicated hill walker, based in the Lake District, who took the trouble to record many of his favourite walks in a series of detailed, and self-penned, publications. Compiled between 1952 and 1966, each book was described as “A Pictorial Guide to the Lakeland Fells,” and was illustrated with hand drawn maps and sketches to help guide walkers in this beautiful area of the country. There were seven such guides in total, although Wainwright later produced a number of additional guides, including the famous Coast-to-Coast Walk – a route which he was instrumental in devising. Since then, this walk, which starts at St Bees Head on the Cumbrian coast and ends at Robin Hood's Bay on the North Sea coast, has become one of the most popular of all long-distance walks.

I’m not sure whether Wainwright would have appreciated, or even condoned these beers, as he died in 1991, but I’m assuming his estate would have given them its approval, but as with the other two examples, Wainwright beer has also expanded into a brand. Once again, the people responsible are Carlsberg-Marston's, who acquired the rights to the Wainwright brand in 2015. Today, beers sold under the Wainwright name include Wainwright Amber, possibly the original Wainwright beer, Wainwright Gold (how predictable) and finally Wainwright Wanderer, a limited-edition brew.

Now there's nothing unethical or intrinsically wrong with what Marston’s/Carlsberg are doing, of for that matter, Shepherd Neame, but if nothing else it demonstrates a lack of imagination. Some might argue, it’s milking a name for everything it’s worth, and I’m sure others would be less kind, but the thinking behind it is obvious, as when consumers see one of these beers on sale, they are quite likely to go for it, on the basis that it’s a name they know and trust. Put another way, this is a means for Marston’s and Co, to increase their market share, by elbowing less well-known beers, off the bar. The same applies in the off trade, where supermarket shelves are increasingly stacked with these beers, and customers are even more likely to opt for a name they are familiar with.

Platinum status

I wouldn't go so far as saying that I'm suffering from "writer's block,"  but I don't seem to have much to write about, at present. There are couple of few events, plus days out coming up, towards the end of the month, but until they happen, there's a definite shortage of material to use on the blog. With this in mind, here is a piece I bashed out, on our British Isles cruise, back in May. It does have a slight resemblance to a post I wrote last summer, but it contains sufficient new material to be worthy of a post, in its own right, so, here goes. 

Our most recent cruise saw Mrs PBT's and I achieving "Platinum Status" as far as Cunard are concerned. We attained this level after clocking up eight different cruises since undertaking our first voyage, on a four night sailing to Zeebrugge and back. That cruise was made in the company of Eileen's sister, and her husband who, sadly, is now no longer with us. One cruise is sufficient to attain Silver level on Cunard's scale, and somewhere along the way we achieved Gold status. 

This hierarchical system is obviously designed as a marketing exercise, encouraging people to book further voyages, than  perhaps they might otherwise have done, but attaining Platinum level does confer a number of benefits, the chief one being Priority Boarding. This proved to be very handy when we turned up at Southampton back in May, and found the queue snaking right outside the terminal. It was Mrs PBT's who remembered this benefit, and after flashing our boarding cards we were shepherded straight to the front of the queue.

So far, we've only voyaged with Cunard, even though many other cruise lines are available. I'm keen to try one of them, with Fred Olsen topping the bill, but my good lady wife doesn't like change, and prefers to stick with what we know. Personally I feel that Cunard are rather staid, and content to trade off past glories, and this manifests itself more than anything in the dress code that the company enforces for passengers dining in the main restaurant - the Britannia It also applies in several of the more upmarket bars and lounges.

Now I accept the need for a certain degree of decorum, as the last thing that's needed is blokes stripped to the waist, parading around in cut-down jeans, or women in skimpy beachwear, flaunting themselves, whilst sitting opposite you at the dinner table, but there's a whole world of difference between smart casual, and full-blown penguin suits or ballroom gowns. On their famous "Gala Nights", Cunard push cruisers in the direction of the latter, although a business suit for men, plus a dress, rather than a frock for the ladies will still get you seats at the table.

For many of the people who cruise with Cunard, putting their glad rags on and getting all tarted up, is part of the attraction, and for some it's almost the MAIN event. Getting poshed up is very low on my list of priorities, and increasingly the same applies to Mrs PBT's as well, although it doesn't explain why she still thought it necessary to bring four suitcases with her! Despite her surfeit of outfits, on our last two cruises we only dressed up on a handful of occasions, and whilst dedicated Cunarder's enjoy the theatrical "look at me" posing, associated with these formal dinners, we both find the events rather stuffy. I could go further and say that many of those on board, aren't really our type of people. In addition, as I've probably mentioned before, having spent a lifetime of having to dress formally - or at least, semi-formally at work, this isn't what I want to do when I'm away from the office, and on holiday. 

If you don't want to get tarted up on a Cunard cruise, then there are venues such as the food-court buffet, or the Golden Lion pub, where people can wear what they like - within reason. If you're feeling really anti-social, there's also the option of Room Service, where a limited number of dishes can be brought to your room - foc, at the moment, but according to my good lady wife, the cruise line will soon introduce a charge for this service, with the exception of breakfast. The bean counters strike again!

Returning to the theme of "other cruise lines are available" Norwegian-owned Fred Olsen would be my choice of carrier. Less formal, but still with a “British” feel to them, their smaller ships seem more personal, and are able to access smaller ports that the larger vessels are excluded from.  Some of their destinations also look interesting – Scandinavia (obviously), the Baltic, and the British Isles, but also Croatia, and some of the smaller Greek islands. Some Fred Olsen cruises, depart from other UK ports, such as Dover, Liverpool or Newcastle, instead of Southampton, withe Dover being the obvious choice for myself and Mrs PBT's. We have ruled out Princess, Holland-America, Royal Caribbean and Celebrity, as many of these vessels are "party ships"geared up to a younger audience. The size of some of these ships too, can be rather off-putting. 

 

Eating out, not just once, but twice in one week!

Over the past week and a half, I've managed a couple of early evening pub meals, something that's quite unusual for me, as Mrs PBT’s is an excellent cook and usually takes care of culinary matters. If she doesn't fancy cooking, then a takeaway is in order, normally fish and chips from the excellent Avebury Avenue Fish Bar, but sometimes we go for a Chinese. Unlike the chippy, the Mandarin delivers, but then it is situated at the other end of the town. A new kebab shop has opened there too, just a couple of doors down from the Chinese, and it has ended up replacing old favourite, Kebab Express. 

Sited rather too conveniently, in the parade of shops opposite Tonbridge station, and offering some of the best chicken shish kebabs in town, a recent change of ownership has seen the closely knit team move away. New people are in charge there now, and the food, plus the welcome doesn’t quite seem the same, so a kebab now means a drive up to Martin Hardie Way, at the other end of town.

Back to the story, last Friday Eileen was out for a meal with a group of her girly friends, for one of their regular get togethers. The girls first met when they were expectant mothers, although I can’t remember if this was at the ante-natal or post-natal classes they attended. It doesn’t really matter which, as the main thing is the group has stayed together for the past 35 years. They meet up for a meal, plus a few drinks, two or three times a year, invariably at Christmas, but also on other occasions, and Friday evening was one of those. To Eileen's relief they have stopped going to a certain, nearby establishment, that wasn't delivering, particularly in terms of service. I’m not sure whether it's changed, following a recent makeover, but it’s reportedly being run by the same team.

The girls also had a rather poor Christmas meal experience, at a Tunbridge Wells bar-cum-restaurant, close to the Pantiles. Mrs PBT’s wasn’t impressed there either, after the group found themselves crammed into the first-floor restaurant, that was accessed bar by a narrow, and rickety looking staircase. I gather the food wasn’t all that special, either. I won’t name or shame these two establishments, but it was interesting that the same group member had chosen both venues. Several years previously, she had scored a hit with her choice of the Grey Lady, situated at the other end of the historic Pantiles.

Last December, I experienced the Grey Lady myself, when the company selected it for a pre-Christmas get-together, with some of our Japanese directors. The group were over, for a board meeting, and we enjoyed a good evening, that helped promote good relations between us, and our parent company. I'm digressing, although I’m pleased to report that the new favourite hangout for the ladies, is the Ivy House, at the top end of Tonbridge High Street. It's a pub that needs little in the way of introduction, so I won't repeat what I've written previously about the place.

So back to little old me. Matthew was out that evening, staying the night at his girlfriend’s place. This left me footloose and fancy free, but not in the mood for a take-away. I decided that a pub meal would be the best idea, especially as the combination of good food, equally good beer and comfortable surroundings, is hard to beat, but which one to choose?  I spent some time online, exploring the various options, and concluded that I would almost certainly have to drive out somewhere. I was looking for a place that sold decent beer alongside, reasonably priced food, with none of that gourmet nonsense, but just a good, old-fashioned, no-thrills pub. I also had to bear I mind that Friday evening was likely to be a busy time, so I needed to make my mind up fast.

Without too much hesitation, I opted for the Dovecote, out at Capel. I’d eaten there a few times when visiting with members of West Kent CAMRA, the last time being whilst attending the pub’s Dark Ales Festival. I wasn’t sure whether the chef was still the same person, but on that occasion, it was Yvonne, the former landlady of the Royal Oak in Tunbridge Wells. What I saw on the menu looked familiar, so I picked up the phone and booked a table for one. “It sounds a little sad,” I explained, as I made the booking. “Don't worry,” the landlady said, “we’ll look after you,” and I’m pleased to report that she and her staff did.

Come Friday evening, Eileen’s friend Trisha's husband picked her up and drove the pair of them down to the Ivy House, leaving me free to make my way over to tiny hamlet of Capel. Situated within easy walking distance of the nearby village of Five Oak Green, but not close enough to walk, safely, from Tonbridge, I checked the public transport options, but bus companies seem to think no one wants to use their services after 6pm, leaving people with little option to drive there, or get a taxi. I'm not a fan of taxis unless I really have to use them, although I do admit that the door-to-door service they provide can be handy, at times. However, without the option of sharing a cab, they don't come cheap, so on this occasion I was quite happy to drive to the pub and stick with just the one pint.

I'd already checked the Dovecote’s cask offering on the Real Ale Finder app on my phone and was pleased to see that one of the beers on sale was Micklegate Dark Mild from Brew York. Coming in at 3.4% abv, that was a beer unlikely to impede me from driving.  Following a 10-minue drive over from Tonbridge, I parked the car, noticing that the extensive car park behind the pub was more than half full, and walked into the pub. After checking in with the landlady, and being shown my allocated table, I went to the bar and ordered a pint of the aforementioned dark mild. Sitting at the bar was a couple I knew from the days when they were regular customers at our old off licence. I had a brief chat with them, discovering that being a similar age to me, they had both taken the plunge and retired.

I also ordered my main course of chicken, ham & leek pie, with mash potato, vegetable and gravy, a choice my family would describe as “somewhat predictable.” It was rather nice, and also quite filling, so much so that I decided to forgo a dessert. There were quite a few other customers dining that evening, although given the reasonably priced menu, plus the high quality of the meals, this wasn’t really surprising.  So full marks, once again to the Dovecote, not just for the food and the beer, but for the friendly welcome of the staff, and the ambience of the pub, in general.

Less than a week later, I enjoyed another early evening pub meal, this time at the Little Brown Jug in Chiddingstone Causeway.  The Jug is just over 5 minutes’ walk from my workplace, and it was a work-related function that brought me to the pub. A colleague, who is a similar age to me, was retiring, having just reached the biblical, three-score years and ten. Unlike me, she’d decided not to continue at work, although she could have carried on in a part-time role. The company had booked the Jug for a few “farewell drinks,” with an open bar between 4.30 & 5.30pm.

With Thursday being one of my “non-working” days I took the train over from Tonbridge, alighting at the conveniently sited, Penshurst station, directly opposite the pub.  I recall being told that the LBJ was originally called the Station Tavern, and that its name was changed by a former licensee who was a massive Glen Miller fan. “Little Brown Jug” was a well-known number, played live, as well as recorded by Miller and his big band, but unfortunately, I have never been able to substantiate the story.

This aside, there was quite a crowd of company employees, standing outside the pub and enjoying a drink, as my train pulled in at 16.32. I joined them, and enjoyed several pints of Larkin’s Traditional, which were on top form – I hinted at this in the previous post. As company “dos” go, it was pretty good and acted as a good send-off for our retiring colleague. 

As the clock ticked on, and the tab behind the bar came to an end, people started to drift off, but a hard core of us stuck it out, and ordered ourselves some food. My Mac ‘N’ Cheese, with added bacon, was very good, and accompanied by a side of mixed salad and garlic bread, formed just the right portion for an early evening meal. The Italian Tortellini Pasta, with crayfish and prawns, that one of my colleagues enjoyed, looked equally tasty, with both dishes demonstrating the quality of the food at the LBJ. I caught the 18.56 train back to Tonbridge, leaving the hard-core drinkers, to carry on with the evening. For me, two pub meals in relatively quick succession was a rare treat, but a welcome one, nevertheless.