As German beer sales tank, some unwelcome changes start appearing

I was saddened, and also puzzled, when I learned the other day of developments affecting the world’s oldest monastic brewery. I’m talking here about the historic Weltenburg Abbey, which has been brewing beer for the best part of 1,000 years. The monastery, which lies to the south west of Regensburg, occupies a spectacular setting on the banks of the river Danube, and acts as a place of pilgrimage for both religious devotees and beer lovers. 

However, the news story, which featured recently in the Guardian, and several other publications, seems confused regarding what is really happening with the Kloster Weltenburg beer brands, and to get to the bottom of what is going on, we have to journey back 50 years, to a time when the monastery brewery was experiencing capacity problems that are opposite to what is happening today.

Back then capacity restraints had led to the transfer of a number of the paler Weltenburg beers to the Regensburg based, Bischofshof Brewery. Brewing of the monastic beers was carried out alongside Bishofshof’s own brands but now, in what seems like a cruel twist of fate, production of both Bischofshof and the Regensburg Kloster Weltenburg brands will transfer to the Schneider Weisse Brewery, in nearby Kelheim. Wheat beer lovers will be familiar with Schneider beers which are widely available throughout Bavaria, and beyond, but the brewery isn’t particularly well known for traditional beers brewed from malted barley.

The company obviously have the capacity to handle the additional production, and the move will provide a welcome cash saving for Kloster Weltenburg and the Catholic Church. Kloster Weltenburg remains in the hands of that particular religious body, and production at the monastery will carry on in the same vein as it has done for the past millennia, but has the church played a part in the closure of Bischofshof, by throwing it under the proverbial bus? I write this because I noticed, in the news article, that the Regensburg Diocese is seeking placement for the 56 Bischofshof workers who are being made redundant, as an historic brewery, that was founded in 1649, closes its doors and ceases production at the end of 2026.

These developments are the result of a dramatic decline in beer sales, not just in Germany, but in many other western countries, including the UK. Beer is suffering from an image problem in Germany, as consumers turn their backs on classic beers, bound by the historic “purity law”, or Reinheitsgebot. According to Germany’s main industry body, turnover has shrunk by a quarter in the last 15 years, and in 2025, consumption fell by 5 million hectolitres, the biggest decline in 75 years. 

Despite this decline, the German beer market has, remained, stubbornly different, with just a few dozen national or global players jostling for space against the output of around 1,500 small and medium-sized breweries. A result of this fierce loyalty to regional brands, is that Germany does not have a single brew among the world’s top 10 selling beers. This is rather surprising given its long and proud tradition, of brewing and enjoying beer.

I am particularly sad to see the historic Bischofshof Brewery close, as son Matthew and I called in at the brewery tap on several occasions, during our first visit to Regensburg in 2008. On two later visits to this lovely old, medieval city on the river Danube, this time with Mrs PBT’s accompanying us as well, Bischofshof beers seemed widely available. Our first time in the city involved a couple of trips to the brewery, which is tucked away in a residential area of Regensburg, where there are some rather expensive looking houses. Perhaps property values and redevelopment opportunities are also factors behind the closure of what to me, appeared a quite modern and efficient brewery.

It was on that first visit to Regensburg that we took a trip out to Kloster Weltenburg, where we enjoyed some of the beers brewed at the monastery. Our journey there involved a train ride and then a local bus to the small town of Kelheim, situated on the banks of the river Danube. Upon arriving in the town, we located the waterside departure point and booked ourselves a return ticket. The boats which ply up and down the river, between March and November, are similar to those you see on the Thames, and in order to make the most of the scenery we would soon be passing through, and the glorious June sunshine, we sat outside on the top deck of the boat, in order to enjoy the views.

Our journey took us past the impressive Walhalla Monument, before we approached the entrance to the steep-sided Danube Gorge. The boat made slow, but steady progress against the fast-flowing river, and before long we were surrounded on both sides by high limestone cliffs, towering majestically over the river, as our boat continued its voyage along this spectacular gorge. 

Then, as we rounded a bend we could see Kloster Weltenburg ahead on the left-hand bank. The ship’s captain slowed our vessel down to enable us to approach the landing stage and moorings, which were a few hundred yards away from the monastery, and a five-minute walk. Making a careful note of the departure times, we made our way to the monastery which sits on a spit of land made up of fine white pebbles, which juts out into the river. This was definitely the most pleasant and most relaxing means of arriving at this Baroque style abbey, which remains the home of a monastic community that has been here since the 11^th Century.

As mentioned earlier Weltenburg’s darker beers are still brewed at the monastery, and we were able to sample a few of these (Barock Dunkles plus Anno 1050), in the shaded, courtyard beer garden. We also enjoyed a hearty Bavarian lunch of Leberkaas and potato salad, in the company of several dozen other beer enthusiasts. Afterwards we had a brief look inside the impressive monastery church, which has ceiling frescoes painted by the renowned Asam Brothers, before catching the mid-afternoon boat back to Kelheim. The return journey took half the time of the outward one, as we were now travelling with the swiftly moving current, rather than fighting against it.

Whilst saddened at the impending closure of the historic Bischofshof Brewery, I enjoyed putting this piece together. I particularly found it interesting to look back at the events of 18 years ago, when I visited the beautiful city of Regensburg for the first time, an event that allowed me to enjoy beers from the three local breweries. Most importantly, was the opportunity of looking back on that boat trip, through the spectacular Danube gorge, to the historical gem that is Kloster Weltenburg.

 

 

An afternoon in Hastings, with a few good pub memories along the way

Crown

Last Saturday, I took a train down to Hastings. It had been quite a few years since I last visited this seaside town, although my decision to travel there was the result of that old, weekend favourite, “engineering works”. My original intention had been to travel to Lewes, as I had several bags of reusable bottles to return to the Harvey’s Brewery Shop. Remarkably, Harvey’s are one of the few UK brewers that still supply beer in returnable bottles—a practice that was once universal in the brewing industry. The brewery has refined its approach, opting for 500-millilitre metric bottles rather than the traditional half-pint or one-pint sizes. 

The bottles themselves are sturdy and purposely designed to withstand the rigours of numerous trips between the brewery and its pubs, and that latter category includes, or course, private individuals like me. For their part, Harvey’s claim it is beneficial for returned bottles to be cleaned and refilled for as long as is practically possible. For my part I feel a sense of responsibility in returning these items, knowing I am contributing to environmental sustainability. An additional reason for doing so is that a visit to Lewes provides me with an excuse to explore this charming old town, and its equally attractive pubs

The reason for my change of mind was the reduction in the normal train service, due to the aforementioned engineering works. There are normally, two trains an hour between Tonbridge and Lewes, that take advantage of the routes available. Both options involve a change of trains, either at St Leonard's, if one follows the Tonbridge-Hastings route, or Redhill, if one takes the cross-country option between Tonbridge and the latter mainline station. Both routes take a similar amount of time, with both charged at the same rate, providing flexibility to travellers journeying from Tonbridge.

Given the fact I was on a relatively tight time schedule, it made sense to go for the half hourly Hastings option, because if I just missed a train (which I actually did) I wouldn't have too long to wait for the following one. And why did I narrowly miss my intended train? I was ambushed by my next-door neighbour, whilst doing my good deed for the day, which was putting the wheelie-bins back after they’d just been collected. Terry has lived in the house next to us, for an even longer period than we have in ours, and whilst he’s a pleasant enough chap, he can talk for England and probably Scotland as well. But when you’re in a hurry he is the last person, you want to get caught with.

Amongst other things, he told me he was getting over the flu, or whatever bug has been doing the rounds recently. That was my cue to suggest he’d better get back in the warm, as well as the signal for me to disappear. I didn't take the quickest route to the station because I wanted to see what progress, if any, had been made on the former Somerhill pub in Pembury Road. This is the pub I mentioned before Christmas, now undergoing extensive renovations. After a decent exterior paint job, the top floor windows are being refurbished or replaced, with similar improvements on the ground floor. The rather scruffy area, at the front of the building is being upgraded to an attractive hard-standing—not likely for parking given the small triangular space, but probably to enhance the pub’s appearance.

I continued down the hill towards the station, and although the sun was shining and the sky bright and free from cloud, there was a bitterly cold wind blowing. Despite increasing my speed, I still missed the train, but only by about 20 seconds. Because after purchasing my ticket, passing through the barrier, and reaching the top of the stairs down to the platform, I witnessed my intended train pulling away. Thanks, neighbour, but with 30 minutes until the next service, I needed somewhere warm to wait in, and I also wanted coffee.

The coffee and refreshment room on the down platform, never reopened after the pandemic, so I headed back up the stairs to FCB, an independently owned coffee shop on the upper station concourse. I asked the ticket collector that having just come through the barrier, and missed my train, could I go back through and grab a coffee. No problem, mate, was the reply, so I dived into FCB and ordered a flat white. There’s a small area inside the shop, where customers can stay and consume their coffee and pastries, although after all that Christmas food, there were none of the latter for me. It was also warm inside FCB, and far more pleasant than waiting on the platform, although to be fair to South Eastern, there is a heated, waiting room where passengers can escape from the cold.

It's a long time since I travelled all the way to the coast on the Hastings line, although I have made a few visits to Robertsbridge, and Bexhill in recent years. With the sun shining, it was a pleasant journey, and on the way down I paused to reflect on some of the pubs that have been lost, along the length of the line. The Rock Robin Inn, directly opposite Wadhurst station was one such establishment, replaced now by some blocks of flats. Still standing, although unfortunately closed are the Bridge Inn, a smashing little pub, next to Stonegate station, whilst at Etchingham – the next former pub, is the De Etchingham Arms, visible from the railway and less than 10 minutes’ walk from the station. This attractive Victorian era pub, situated on the village High Street, was converted to a private residence in 1998.

The rest of the journey was uneventful, although the train was a little late in arriving at Hastings. This was annoying because time was at a premium, and I’d promised Mrs PBT’s that I wouldn’t be too late back. I certainly would be back in time for dinner or tea, as we like to call our evening meal. 

Alighting at Hastings station I realised there was a bus turn around outside the concourse, plus a selection of stops. The idea struck me that getting a bus along the sea front would not only allow a bit more drinking time at the other end but would also save a cold walk along the sea front by getting me away from the bitingly cold wind. In truth, conditions seemed a little warmer than back in Tonbridge, but it’s all relative, and when the Rye-bound, No.100 bus turned up, I was more than happy to hop on board and enjoy the ride.

The bus dropped me at the area known as the Stade, which is opposite those tall wooden buildings, formerly used for the drying of fishing nets. I continued a little further along the sea front, towards the start of Hastings Old Town. I had identified four pubs to try and whilst I knew that I’d been in at least two of them, I wasn’t quite sure about the other two. My first port of call was the Dolphin Inn, a traditional, brick-built, town pub, dating from the 18^th century, and set slightly above pavement level, in the quaintly named Rock-A-Nore-Road.

There are views out towards the seafront, where a few hardy souls were sitting out at the tables in front of the pub. Unless you are a smoker, this is more of a summer attraction. The Dolphin has been in the same family for twenty years and has well-established links with the local fishing community. The place was quite busy, although not absolutely rammed, which meant there were a few vacant tables. I found one to the left of the serving area, which afforded a good view of what was going on in that half of the pub. I plonked myself down, but not before ordering a beer.

The choice was Young’s London Special or Three Acre Brewery Extra Pale. I chose the latter, especially as Young’s beers are a shadow of their former selves, and nothing like the fine, traditional beers that came out of the Ram Brewery, in Wandsworth.  The 4.5% Three Acre beer was very good, though, so I obviously made the right choice. As for the Dolphin, it is definitely an old-school pub, with a few modern twists. I'm not sure whether I've been there before, but if I had to guess, I’d say that I hadn't.

I had definitely been in the next pub, even though I’d forgotten its name in the interim. The Crown is an independent family run free house, in the heart of Hastings Old Town at the foot of the clifftop country park and just a short distance from the beach. It was tastefully refurbished by its current owners, back in 2014, and its wooden floor, hand-made tables and chairs help to creating a relaxed atmosphere. It is a relatively small building, and its popularity means that space is often at a premium at peak times, when it can get very busy.

The pub was certainly heaving when I arrived, which meant I struggled to find space at the bar. I squeezed myself in amongst the drinkers at the bar and ordered a pint of Best Bitter from local brewery, Romney Marsh. 

Their other offering was a golden ale, a style of beer I am not particularly fond of, but I was more than content with the best. Romney Marsh beers crop up in various parts of this area of Kent and East Sussex, with one particular favourite outlet being the Pilot, at Dungeness, a pub famed for its legendary fish and chips.

The food I saw being brought out at the Crown looked equally appetising, but given the number of people inside, I had visions of a lengthy wait, even if I managed to find a place to sit and eat at. I also knew that Eileen would be knocking up a tasty meal for when I got home, so dining at the Crown was a definite no-no, and it was time to move on. I didn’t have to walk far as the Cinque Ports Arms was also in All Saints Street. Dating from 1642, this small pub in the middle of the Old Town, blends in well with surrounding buildings, and is a magnet for tourists and locals alike. The inside has timbered panel walls and pictures of local events. The pub is said to have a sun trap garden at the rear, although this wasn’t really of interest on a freezing cold, mid-January afternoon.

I got the impression that despite its obvious, tourist appeal, the Cinque Ports is very much a locals pub, as evidenced by its 5pm weekday opening time. This is extended at weekends, to midday. Harvey’s Sussex Best and Pells Pale were the cask offerings. I opted for the latter – a relatively new brew from Harvey’s, described by the brewery as “South Downs Sussex spring water, infused with zesty New Zealand and UK Hops”. Despite its relatively low strength of 3.7%, this pale ale is available in both cask and keg forms, all the year round.

One more pub to go now, and not only is it a good one, it’s an establishment that is pretty much mandatory on any visit to Hastings. Situated in the Old Town High Street and navigated to via a couple of narrow side streets, is the First In – Last Out, universally known as the "FILO". This cosy free house is said to date back to the 1500’s and has been an inn since 1896. Family owned since 1988, the FILO began brewing its own beer soon after, initially in the pub itself, but now in a separate facility, a few hundred yards away.

The FILO remains as an attractive and atmospheric single bar pub, which is dominated by a central open fire. The latter proved most welcome last Saturday, as did the FILO’s own beers. There were four on tap, as shown by the photo of the pump clips. With outside temperatures close to freezing it is perhaps no surprise that I should have chosen the 4.6% Cardinal Sussex Porter. I have enjoyed some of the FILO’s other home-brewed beers, during past visits but despite the pub’s reputation for good food, I still haven’t eaten there.

With time marching on, it was time to make my way back to the station, but not before treating myself to a “cone” full of freshly fried chips – courtesy of one of the many fish and chip shops along the seafront. Smothered in salt and vinegar, I scoffed them down greedily as I walked back to the station, enjoying the taste and the mouthfeel of this most traditional seaside snack. With the cold wind on my face, and combination of sea air, fish and chips, plus some fine, unspoiled pubs to reflect on, it was a great time to be alive!

Larkin's Best at the Dovecote, Capel

I only found out the other day that local brewer Larkin’s are celebrating their 40^th anniversary this year. I unearthed this milestone whilst ordering a pint of Larkin’s Best in a local firehouse. The pub in question was the Dovecote at Capel, situated in Alders Road, on the back route between Colts Hill and Tudeley. From the outside it is a typical Victorian building, that has been extended at the front and at the side, whilst to the rear there is a part-covered terrace, along with an extensive garden and large carpark. With very few chimney pots in the immediate vicinity, the Dovecote has always needed something different to offer its customers, and it achieves this by selling a wide range of cask beers (up to six), direct from the cask, alongside a selection of what it describes as “good traditional, locally sourced homely food, in a cosy atmosphere”.

I made a brief stop there on Sunday lunchtime, after a check on the local Real Ale Finder app revealed that Larkin’s Best Bitter was on sale at the pub. Larkin’s, I hear you say, what’s so special about that? Larkin’s is available at many pubs in this compact little corner of West Kent, and you’d be right about the brewery, but wrong about the actual beer.  The thing is, Larkin’s Traditional – often abbreviated to “Trad”, is a common sight throughout this part of the county, and sometimes further away too, but Trad has an abv of just 3.4%, whilst Larkin’s Best Bitter weighs in at a much more respectable strength of 4.4% abv, this Kentish style Best Bitter is a rich, fruity and slightly sweet ale.

Trad, on the other hand, is weaker, although it still packs in plenty of character and flavour for a beer of such low abv, and because of this it remains Larkin’s staple bitter and best seller. A true session beer if you like, and I recall, many years ago now, Bob Dockerty, the brewery’s founder, and Head Brewer at the time, saying that Trad’s low abv, allowed customers to enjoy a couple of pints of this well-balanced, tawny session bitter and still be able to drive home. This was an important consideration given that the majority of pubs stocking Larkin’s beers were rural affairs, with very little in the way of public transport connections, especially in the evenings.  

Larkin’s Brewery is situated in the scenic village of Chiddingstone, near Edenbridge, where it produces award-winning traditional Kentish real ales. Established in 1986 by Marjorie and Ted Dockerty, together with their son, Bob - a commercial hop grower and enthusiastic home brewer at the time. Larkin’s operates as a close-knit family business, that includes Head Brewer Harry Dockerty (Bob’s nephew), Accounts & Office Manager Becky Dockerty, Drayman Martin Ayres, and Director Karah Templeton. In addition, a dedicated group of part-time team members play an essential role in supporting the ongoing success of the brewery.

Today, the company offers three core beers plus two seasonal varieties, crafted exclusively from hops cultivated on Larkin's Farm. The brewery supplies approximately 40-50 local pubs and restaurants, as well as serving private customers for parties, weddings, and community events. Sadly, just over three years ago, Bob passed away, quite suddenly, leaving behind a huge hole, not only in the family and the brewery, but the wider community too. He was certainly a character, as anyone who had the good fortune to meet him, would confirm. Fortunately for the beer lovers of this world, Bob left a strong and successful local business as his legacy, producing beers packed with local character, and bittered entirely with hops, grown on the family farm.

With Larkin’s Brewery approaching its 40^th Anniversary year, it is pleasing to say that Bob's life work is going from strength to strength, with many favourable comments and reviews being received regarding the quality and consistency of the range of beers produced at Larkin’s. The pint of the brewery’s Best Bitter that I enjoyed last Sunday, certainly hit the spot, but as I was driving, I sensibly limited myself to just the one pint. After ordering my pint, I had a brief chat with Simon, the Dovecote’s landlord who, together with wife Lindsey, has been looking after the pub for several years. Despite their laid-back appearance, the pair run a highly professional and very tight ship, which is reflected in the strong client base they have built up, since taking over the reins.

Simon told me that they’d had a good Christmas and New Year, and judging by the number of both drinkers and diners in the pub, the good times seem set to continue well into January. It was certainly good to witness a country pub that is thriving. I mentioned my trip down to Hastings, the previous day (details still to come) where every one of the four pubs I visited was busy, with standing room only in a couple of them. With all the sh*t going on in the world, at the moment, people obviously need a safety valve where they can let their hair down, get away from the bad stuff and forget their troubles for a while, and where better to do so than in relaxing and welcoming atmosphere of a traditional English pub – other home nations, also qualify here!

 

 

 

Four more books to be enjoyed at bedtime

As the year kicks off, there’s nothing like a book review to give it a head start. Before publishing this on, I took a look back at previous reviews and was surprised to see I have published six, so far, since starting the ball rolling back in August 2020. You may recall we were still in the grip of the COVID pandemic back then, and despite a brief respite over that summer, the insidious corona virus was getting ready to launch a new wave of infection, and associated restrictions across the country. Now, having set the scene, and possibly whetted your appetites for some further literary reviews, here we go with Book Review No. 7.

After finishing off “The Secret Commonwealth”, Volume 2 in Philip Pullman's trilogy, “The Book of Dust”, I was waiting for the final novel in this series to be published. With a publication date of 23^rd October, and Mrs PBT’s and I away cruising the high seas, I postponed the purchase of this book until we returned from our autumn cruise. When it arrived, I handed the book over to Mrs PBT’s, saying it could be one of my Christmas presents.

Whilst on that subject, in common with many people of a similar age, there isn't really a lot that us too oldies desire as gifts for the festive season. It might sound a bit of a cliché, but fitness, health and happiness, rather than worldly riches, go towards creating, content and fulfilled individuals. That 3rd book of this series, entitled “The Rose Field”, arrived in the post once we were back from our voyage, but in the meantime, I was looking for a suitable publication to become engrossed in and to while away the hours on our lengthy sea voyage.

It was probably the three-day journey down to the Azores, which was our first port of call, when I was looking for something to occupy my mind and get me away from the incessant Sky News on continuous repeat, that Mrs PBT's insisted on having on in the cabin. This was despite me saying that I am not in the least bit interested in what is happening in the world, whilst I'm away.  Her reply was she liked to keep abreast of things but, as I explained there’s a major difference between what is going on in the background and receiving saturation news coverage.

Fair enough, one news bulletin in the morning and possibly another in the evening is more than sufficient, particularly when it's the same old shit, Putin, Trump, Gaza, Farage and now several other rogue countries on the brink of chaos. I told her that knowing this information wouldn't enrich her life in any shape or form, which led to my dismissal as a “grumpy old git”. All the better then to have a book in which to lose oneself but having finished Volume 2 of the latest (and probably final) Philip Pullman series, and Volume 3 not then available, I splashed out on a four-book series by the same author.

Set in Victorian London, and in a world, readers can easily relate to, rather than the parallel universe of the “His Dark Materials” series, the Sally Lockhart Mysteries, follow the fortunes of Miss Sally Lockhart who, after abandoning her rather overbearing guardian at the tender age of 16, sets up shop with an unorthodox and slightly Bohemian brother and sister, who run a photographic business. This is whilst Sally is attempting to unravel the mystery surrounding the death of her father, a former sea captain, responsible for trading goods back and forth between London and the Far East (China mainly).

As well as being commanding his own ship, Sally’s father was a partner in a shipping firm, when he went missing, and assumed lost at sea. Given the date and the Chinese location, the sinister trade in opium played a part in Captain Lockhart’s disappearance. Fortunately for Sally, as she later discovers, her father left her some money, plus his share in the shipping line, wealth that she would inherit, when she came of age.

The other three books follow Sally’s fortunes as she sets herself up as a successful private investigator, gives birth to an illegitimate child, has her identify stolen, by a cunning and devious individual who purports to be her husband and the father of that child, before exposing the fraudster and marrying a radical Jewish immigrant, who goes on to become a successful politician. I’ve just finished the fourth and final book in the series, which is more about Sally’s protégé, Jim, who becomes involved in the political machinations involving a tiny, imaginary kingdom, sandwiched between Austria-Hungary and the German Empire.

All rather “boy’s own” you might think, but escapism, as well and with a series of convoluted plots, just the thing before hitting the sack, and drifting off into restful sleep. Before saying goodbye toSally Lockhart, it's worth noting that whilst the four books are stand-alone novels, it still makes sense to read them in the order that Philip Pullman intended, in order to get the best out of them, because there is a connective thread, running through them all. I’ve passed the books on to a work colleague and will be embarking on “The Rose Field” soon, that’s if I don’t save it for our forthcoming Norwegian cruise.

Speaking of cruises, you will probably remember that due to adverse weather conditions, our ship was unable to dock at two of its scheduled ports of call. These happened to be the first and the last destinations on the cruise, Praia de Vitoria in the Azores, plus Vigo in Spain. The cruise line issued us all with an explanation letter, detailing what had happened, with the suggestion of using this document for any claim against our travel insurance. Like all such forms, the insurance claim took a bit of filling out, but I pressed on ahead and posted it off (I could have scanned it and sent it by email, but I used old-fashioned “snail mail” instead.

A couple of weeks later, after receiving an official acknowledgement, I was notified, by email, that our claim was being upheld, and we would both receive £400 compensation – working out at £200 per person, per missed port. Proof, if it were needed, that it’s always worth pursuing such claims, even if the process is rather time consuming. Contrast this to the rather paltry £12.50, “Delay- Repay”, I received from Great Western Railway, after a broken-down train, led to me and fellow passengers, being dumped off and abandoned at Taunton station, on the journey home from Exeter. Still, as my wife would say, “every little helps”, before claiming these were the alleged words of "the lady who "p*ssed in the sea!"

 

Banging the beat for the New Drum

I had planned to bring you highlights of the two remaining Tonbridge pubs that I has still to visit, before the year was out, but unfortunately that obligation didn’t materialise. However, what difference does a few days make, especially as the time strictures set for this task were set by me, and it’s a sorry state of affairs if I can’t break my own rules. I have actually visited one of the outstanding pubs, and whilst I’d originally planned to visit the remaining one today, something came up that prevented me from fulfilling this obligation.

So, let’s look at pub No. 14 which, according to my phone, I called in at on Sunday 4^th January. That pub was the New Drum, tucked away down the steep narrow side street that is Lavender Hill.  Why did the Victorians choose such picturesque names for their streets of two-up, two-down houses? That’s a question for another time, but the pub in question started life as two adjoining Victorian terraced cottages that were knocked through into one, sometime in the late 19^th century.

Known today as the New Drum, it began life as simply the Drum, but when I first became acquainted with it, in the early 1980's. It had recently been modernised and was then called the Victoria Tavern, and I was taken there by a work colleague, so lived nearby. I found the place a bit too modern for my liking, although as things turned out, the Victoria didn’t keep that name for long, as a year or so later, the pub changed hands. It's new owners were an elderly couple named Tom and Margaret. With the new owners, came a new name; Uncle Tom's Cabin - probably one of the daftest names for a pub I've come across, but one that seemed to have stuck over the years.

I have a particular soft spot for what became known as the Cabin or just plain, Tom's, as for the six or seven years between my moving to Tonbridge and the birth of our son, Tom's was very much my local. I wasn't in there every night, or even every other night, but one session I never missed was Sunday lunchtime. I would take our dog for a long walk on a Sunday morning, and then invariably end up in the Cabin, joining a very erudite bunch of regulars who, like me, were all thirty somethings.We'd have a laugh and a joke, whilst at the same time putting the world to right.

As well as the above, we would consume several pints of beer, chosen from an ever-changing list (Tom's was a free house). There was also a weekly meat raffle, so it was an added bonus if I could return home in triumph, with a joint of meat ready for the following Sunday's roast. Tom and Margaret were succeeded by another couple, Richard and Joan, who for a while obtained their beer from the Crown Brewery (former South Wales Clubs Brewery) of Pontyclun. Disappointingly the Welsh beers were not to the taste of the locals (including me, and not long afterwards, the pair switched their beers supply to Greene King. The Suffolk company was not particularly well represented in the South East at the time, and their beers were a welcome addition to the local scene.

Things continued in much the same vein as before, but my pub-going started to tail off following the birth of our son Matthew in late 1991. Eventually yet another change of hands saw experienced licensee Tony, who also ran a pub in Goudhurst, buying the pub and putting his son Matt in charge. The father and son team made some welcome changes, which opening the pub up and extending it even further backwards. They re-named it the New Drum; a far more sensible name than its previous one!

The downside, so far as I was concerned, was that Matt was an out and out sports fanatic and, no matter what time of day or night one visited the pub, there would be sport of some description showing on one of the all-pervasive television screens. Somewhere along the line, the New Drum changed from being pub that majored on cask to being one that was keg only, but with my pub going severely slimmed down, it wasn’t a situation I was acutely aware of. I’m also uncertain as to why cask was dropped from the line up on the bar, although I imagine it might have been due to change in the make up of the pub’s regulars.

Over the course of the next 30 years, I popped in occasionally, primarily to see whether or not cask had made a comeback – it hadn’t, so when I stepped inside the New Drum last Sunday, on a freezing cold, early January afternoon, I wasn’t expecting much in the way of change. What I did notice was the line-up on the bar of a couple of Jeremy Clarkson’s, finest Hawkstone beers. I ordered a pint of Premium, and once poured, took my glass over to a convenient table, close to the welcoming log burner.

I wasn’t sure whether it was Matt who served me, as people obviously change over the years, but a little later on, when he wandered over to place a few more logs into the wood burner, it was definitely the aforementioned gentleman, as he stopped to ask how I was. We chatted about a number of things, but primarily about Hawkstone. Matt told me that the beers were selling remarkably well, especially the IPA. Although obviously a keg beer, I was tempted to try it, and I may well do so, the next time I see it on sale.

Although the pub was quiet, that particular day, Matt confirmed that trade was generally good. With the log burner providing some welcoming warmth, there was a nice atmosphere within the pub, although I have to say that with Premier League football on one screen, and horse racing on the other, nothing much has changed, in that respect. The moral of this tale is to always give pubs you are uncertain about, another chance. You might be pleasantly surprised, as indeed I was.