A Tunbridge Wells saunter

Having recently enjoyed a Sonder around Broadstairs, spoiler alert - partially made-up word, although AI is not responsible, exactly a week ago, I headed over to Tunbridge Wells, ostensibly on a clothes shopping expedition. It was more of a saunter really, plus an excuse, to visit a few local pubs, whilst at the same time following Mrs PBT's suggestion to treat myself to a “smart jacket”. By smart, I mean one suitable for wearing in the evening, on board a cruise ship. It’s a style that’s best described as “smart casual”, and basically is a jacket, that I can wear with my regular chinos, and a decent shirt (one with a collar). Nothing too fancy, if I can help it, and definitely not too formal (or uncomfortable), but a garment that will make an evening visit to the posh restaurant, or bars like the Commodore Club, the Chart Room etc much more pleasant. It will also stop the “stuffed shirts” staring at me, although as most of those seem to be ballroom dancers from Pontefract, we can conveniently ignore them!

The fact that I’m splashing out on a new garment, when I’ve spent part of the recent summer, getting rid of unwanted clutter, hints that Mrs PBT’s and I have another ocean-going cruise coming up. It’s booked for the last week of October, through into the first week in November, and will see us heading out into the Atlantic on a voyage that takes in a couple of islands in the Azores archipelago, before a two-day stopover in the lovely island of Madeira. We then head back towards mainland Europe, where we will be calling at destinations in both Portugal and Spain.

Seeking suitable attire for a gentleman/man-about-town, I visited the recently renovated Marks & Spencer store in central Tunbridge Wells, expecting to find options that would complement my style. Unfortunately, I was disappointed that after extensively browsing the store – five minutes max, suitable jackets were apparently, unavailable. When I asked a staff member for assistance, she informed me that suits were in stock but not individual jackets, and she was uncertain about future availability. I appreciated her candour and resolved to check the website periodically for updates. With my shopping concluded, I proceeded to complete my other, and far more important errand, such as visiting a few local pubs.

My journey across to Tunbridge Wells began with an unduly long wait for a bus into town. Eventually the 402 service, one of several running between the two towns, turned up. Typically, this route is operated using double-decker buses, but that particular service was a single deck vehicle, which meant it was standing room only. Fortunately, quite a few passengers left the bus at Southborough, allowing me to claim a seat. I remained on the bus until the town's rail station, as the pubs I intended to visit were located at the bottom end of town. I then made my way up the nearby Grove Hill Road before stopping at a pub that has undergone several changes of name and ownership over the years. I was curious to see what difference its latest reincarnation had made.

The pub in question, has traded under various different names during the four decades that I have been visiting Tunbridge Wells, and after many years as the Kentish Yeoman, this Victorian town alehouse, has been the Black Pig, the Orson Wells and is now known as the Claremont. It is a two-minute walk from the station, and is a deceptively large and rambling restaurant-cum-pub.  It is reported as having a large garden at the rear, but I can’t vouch for this. It had been many years since I last set foot in the pub, so I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. Upon entering I noticed a sign indicating that the pub is managed by Brakspear’s of Henley-on-Thames, a name I’m sure all beer lovers remember with sadness, following the owning family’s decision to close the brewery, and become a pub-co instead. There are at least two other Brakspear’s owned pub locally, with the George & Dragon, Speldhurst, plus the Leicester Arms, at Penshurst, springing to mind.

Nothing much seemed to be happening in the pub, and with no one present behind the bar, the enforced wait allowed me time to look around. I shall refer you to the pub’s website, for an over-effusive description of the pub, but despite that, the beer options, for serious connoisseurs seemed confined to a mix of the latest “in-vogue” lagers, plus the odd token craft beer. I can’t tell you which ones, as I neglected to take a photo, but had I stayed longer I’m sure I would have done. 

It was still quite early, and the fact that the clip on the single hand-pump had been turned round, didn’t allow for much optimism on the cask ale front. When the barman eventually appeared, he confirmed my fears about the lack of cask, so I asked for a flat white coffee instead. He muttered something about the pub not having a coffee machine, which seemed incredible for an establishment with such upmarket aspirations, but he could “do me a coffee with cold milk”. I presume he meant a cup of instant coffee, which wasn’t at all what I was looking for. I politely declined his offer and bade him farewell.  

On the basis of what I’d experienced since stepping into the Claremont, my verdict was one that was definitely “underwhelming”, especially on a Friday lunchtime, when might expect the pub to be busier. In addition, when viewed against the puff-piece on the Claremont’s website, I was beginning to think that I’d walked into the wrong place, altogether. Take a look, and you will see what I mean.

Undeterred, I continued up the hill and took one of the turnings into the area known as the Grove. I hesitate to call this area a park, even though it has a play area with swings and a side, but the main users of the of this green space, appear to be dog walkers. Sited in the middle of Tunbridge Wells, the Grove is a very pleasant and welcoming public space, and despite its proximity to the shops, the rail station and the general hustle and bustle of a busy west-Kent town, an air of peace and tranquillity hangs over the place. The leaf canopy from the many trees, helps filter out the noise of the traffic, although in a month or so’s time this will all change, as the annual, autumn leaf fall gets underway.

Virtually hidden by the trees, is the rear entrance to the Compasses, a pub with the distinction of being one of the oldest, and one of the cosiest pubs in Tunbridge Wells.  It's a long time since I last set foot in the place, and trying to find the entrance from the Grove, was as difficult as I remember. I walked along the path, which skirts the periphery of the park, and for a short while, things didn’t look too hopeful. It wasn’t until I was almost right upon it, that I found the moderately overgrown entrance leading to the rear of the pub. With parts dating from the early 17^th century, the Compasses blends in well with its surroundings.

There are still two separate bars, plenty of old wooden beams and floors, plus a number of open fireplaces. Leading off from the bars is a space set aside for dining with a quieter snug area looking out over the sunny terrace at the front of the building. The pub also has its own, small garden close to the Grove. My request for a flat white was more successful than in the previous establishment, and I was served a nice, and well-presented cup of coffee. At £3.00 this represented better value than the Costa’s and Starbucks of this world, and was light years away from the instant coffee, with a dash of cold milk, offered at the Claremont.

As I sat enjoying my drink, I couldn’t help chuckling at the dithering of two, late, middle-aged couples who’d met up for a meal. They took ages deciding which table and which chairs to sit at, and then they weren’t sure whether to have a lite-bite, or something more substantial. The thing that really made me laugh though, was the insistence of one of the men for a “best bitter” for his lunchtime tipple.  This could be interesting I thought, as the gentleman in question was obviously not a regular pub goer. Sure enough, his request threw both the bar staff and the customer himself into a state of confusion, when it came to deciding which of the several bitters on sale, might be classed as “best”.

By this time, I too found myself fancying a glass of bitter, best or otherwise, so I wandered into the left-hand bar, where the pumps were situated, to check out what was on offer. My eye was drawn to a striking looking, sky-blue coloured pump clip, advertising a beer called Genevieve. This is a cask beer, brewed as a collaboration between Greene King and Thornbridge, which later research revealed to be a hop-forward, clean and crisp, West Coast IPA, with an ABV of 4.5%. This collaboration beer looked really tempting, so imagine my disappointment at being told that the beer was “resting”. I presumed the young barman meant the beer hadn’t settled yet, although it was quite obvious the young lad didn't really know much about the mystique involved with cask ale (train your staff properly!)  That's a shame I said, as I really fancied the Genevieve, and with IPA and Abbot not really ticking the right boxes, I made my excuses and left a pub, for the second time that afternoon.

Departing via the front door, I paused to take a few photos on the way. My eye was drawn to another pub which serves the needs of this “village” area of Tunbridge Wells. Sited further down the hill, in the direction of the High Street, is the Grove Tavern, a smallish pub with an l-shaped bar. The first thing visible on entering, is a pool table which takes up most of the front bar, a feature I always think is rather off-putting. I also find the pub to be rather cliquey, and although I know quite a few of the people who drink there, I’ve never been overly keen on the place. The Grove ticks all the right boxes with CAMRA though, as it’s a Good Beer Guide regular, and keeps a well-cared for range of Harvey’s Best, Timothy Taylor's plus the odd guest beer or two.

I didn't fancy the Grove Tavern that Friday, so I headed back up the hill and then into the top part of the Grove. I then walked through the park and after crossing the road, found myself in a narrow street, containing a row of well-kept, terraced Victorian terraced houses. A narrow gate, at the far end of the road led into another of Tunbridge Well’s famous green spaces, namely Calverley Grounds, a popular and historic park with attractive lawns, ornamental gardens and welcoming café. During the run-up to Christmas, there is also an ice-rink, located on an area of flat ground, below the Calverley Hotel, now known as the Hotel du Vin. On Friday, the grounds were busy with people, mainly young, out for a stroll.

Time for one more beer before heading for the bus stop. I was in a bit of a hurry to get out of Tunbridge Wells, because come mid to late afternoon, the local schools all spill out at the conclusion of the academic day. There are three or four schools at the St John’s end of Tunbridge Wells and then going through towards Southborough. With hundreds of pupils, spiling out onto the streets at the same time, all pushing, shoving and jostling for space, travelling by bus, during this period is definitely best avoided. I therefore wanted to make sure I was sat on the bus before it got crowded and full of boisterous schoolchildren. They are normally quite well behaved, just a little noisy and excited, especially at the end of the week.

The pub I was making for was the Guinea, in Calverley Road, an establishment that has had a substantial of money thrown at it recently. Formerly known as Guinea Butt, but now just the plain “Guinea”.   I can't remember the last time I visited this town pub, but it must have been a long time ago, and as I stepped inside the first thing that struck me was the large expanses of dark wood. The interior was surprisingly spacious, certainly when compared against the pub’s frontage.

At the bar there were hand pumps for beers from Pig & Porter, alongside Downland, but the ones that caught my eye were dispensed from the T-bar and consisted of several genuine Oktoberfest beers. The bartender was enthusiastic and also very knowledgeable about Oktoberfest and its attendant beers, so we had a brief conversation, about this annual event. I chose the versions from Hacker-Pschorr, which is a slightly darker and more robust brew compared to some of the others. He also mentioned that all the Märzen beers from the festival were now available, at the Guinea, which was another plus point for me.

The pub itself wasn’t overly busy, although there were several parties of “ladies that lunch”, and I obviously chose the wrong area to sit.  I did consider moving away from the closest of these groups, particularly when the topic got around to breastfeeding, who was managing OK and who was having difficulties. It certainly wasn’t your average lunchtime conversation, but at the same time it is a perfectly natural thing, and if one or two group members were having trouble, or just seeking reassurance, then where more natural to talk about it than amongst your peers? (A slightly less public location might have been better, and certainly more discreet!) Moving swiftly on, the beer was very good, and if I hadn’t been rushing to catch that 3pm bus, I almost certainly would have stayed for another.

As I made my way towards the row of bus stops, there were already signs that the school exodus had begun. I didn’t have long to wait for a Tonbridge bound bus, and surprisingly very few school passengers were onboard. The same applied for the journey back to Tonbridge, which was just as well as it allowed me to scoff the reduced, price roast chicken and stuffing sandwich that I'd purchased in M&S. You're not supposed to eat on Arriva buses, but I was on the upstairs deck, and whilst I might have been visible on the vehicle's CCTV, no one said anything. I arrived back in Tonbridge just in time to cross the road and wait for the 219 bus, that would take me up the hill, and back to Bailey Towers.

Mrs PBT's said I should have just looked online, something I actually did in the end, and I’m currently waiting for the jacket to be delivered. However, she didn't quite suss out the logic behind me wanting to visit the town in person. It was the opportunity to visit a few Tunbridge Wells pubs, ones which, with the honourable exception of the Compasses, I wouldn’t normally have set foot in, that made that unsuccessful shopping trip, all the more worthwhile.