At the start of
2026, I made an all too brief visit to the
historic, seaside town of
Hastings, a settlement situated on the sunny
south-east coast of
Sussex and famed for a battle that took place
960 years
ago. The
Battle of Hastings took place between the
Anglo-Saxon forces of
Harold
Godwinson, and the
French-speaking invaders, of
Duke William of Normandy. Both
Harold and
William had a claim to the English throne following the death of
King Edward the Confessor, who died childless, and without naming a successor.
This was a bad move on his part, but
“shit happens” as they say, and worse
still for the
Anglo Saxons, William’s Norman forces won the day.
This bloody event took place seven miles inland from
the town that gave the battle its name, although a new town grew up close to
the site of
William’s victory.
Battle is not the most imaginative of
names, but given the significance of
William’s victory, and
Harold’s defeat, it
is perhaps an appropriate one. The event changed the face and the language of
England,
certainly for the next
200 years, when
Norman French superseded the
Anglo-Saxon, Old English of the conquered, native population, but eventually
the two tongues merged into what eventually became the
English language we know
today.
History lesson over, and today,
Hastings today is a thriving
borough and historic seaside town, dominating this delightful corner of
East
Sussex. It later became one of the
Cinque Ports, a mediaeval trading guild
which as well as controlling the local commerce, was also tasked with providing
ships, and crews, for the
Crown. In the
19th century, and
following the arrival of the railways, the town became a popular seaside
resort, as tourists and visitors flocked to the town, to enjoy its many
attractions.
Hastings remains a popular seaside resort today, but it is also an
important fishing port, with the
UK's largest beach-based fishing fleet,
bringing in the catch.
Over the years, I’ve got to know
Hastings reasonably well,
but despite this there’s always something more to discover.
It was
that relatively short trip, back in early
January, that inspired me to make a
longer visit, and the chance for that came much sooner than I had anticipated.
I'd spotted the
Hastings trip advertised on the
West Kent CAMRA website and whilst
I’m no longer a member of the campaign group, these trips are always kept open
for armchair supporters and sympathisers of the organisation.
So, after getting my pass stamped by
Mrs PBT's, I headed down
to the station in time for the advertised 1
0:58 train. Whilst a few the party
had already boarded the train at
Sevenoaks and more would be joining the
service at
Tunbridge Wells, the majority of the group travelled from
Tonbridge,
including several people I hadn't seen for some time.
This was all to the good,
but what was wasn't quite so positive, was the differing ideas and aspirations
held by various party members as to what the day should entail, especially when
it came to which areas of the town we ought to visit. Should we play safe and stick
to some favourite, tried and tested pubs or ought we perhaps visit a few untried
and unfamiliar hostelries? It was during the train ride down to
Hastings that
these differing thoughts and opinions came to light, with some members wanting
to leave the train at nearby
St. Leonards on Sea, whilst others wanting to
remain on board to the end of the line and disembark at
Hastings. The dilemma was further compounded by the level of fitness
of people in the group, because several party members didn’t seem up the
St.
Leonards option, which involved a steep uphill slog from
Warrior Square station,
into the
Old Town. So, whilst the majority of the group were in favour of the
St. Leonards option, there was a small contingent who, due to various
age-related conditions, didn't feel up to the walk. Those individuals remained
on the train with an agreement to rendezvous with the rest of us, at the
Dolphin
in
Hastings, Old Town. I class myself as reasonably fit, so I left the train at
St.
Leonards. Although I’ve driven through the area, that was my first time on foot
in the town. The plan was to visit the
“landmark pub” called the
Tower that
was reached after a stiff climb up from the station. One enterprising, but not
overly fit member found a bus to transport him up from the station, but I was
glad of the chance to stretch my legs after sitting on the train for the best
part of an hour.
The
Tower is described by
CAMRA, as one of the last
“true free
houses”, although I'm uncertain as to what is meant by that statement. Stepping
inside we found a spacious and well laid out room, overlooked by a semicircular
bar. There was quite a selection of cask ales on tap, with
Fuller’s supplying several
of them, but my attention was drawn to a refreshing pint of
Southern Summit, a
4.0%
American Pale Ale from
Loch Lomond Brewery. Clear and bright as nature intended,
rather than cloudy murk that resembled a milkshake. Our group spread ourselves
between several
Britannia style tables,
(look it up), with some opting for the rarely
seen
Gales HSB or
Dark Star Hophead. There was a friendly and inclusive feel to
the
Tower, making it a popular choice for both regulars and new visitors like us.
Departing the
Tower, we headed a little deeper into
St Leonards
to a stop where buses run down into
Hastings Old Town. We alighted at the seafront,
close to our agreed meeting point of the
Dolphin, but the rendezvous was
compromised somewhat by a member of the other party suffering from a nosebleed
that was refusing to stop. I won't go into detail, apart from revealing that
the individual concerned was the oldest member of the group. That aside the
Dolphin’s
landlady and her staff treated this poor chat with compassion and respect, even
though they must have got through yards of blue paper towel, in an attempt to
stem the flow of blood. Too much detail I know, but full marks to the staff at
the
Dolphin even though they eventually had to seek medical assistance and call
an ambulance.
Annoyingly, the
Dolphin wasn't serving food that day -
something about the kitchen franchise changing hands, but the pub did serve up
a fine pint of
Kent Brewery, Quiet American, a
US-style, citrus dominated
IPA,
which on a baking hot day was the perfect thirst quencher.
Harvey’s Best, and
Longman Best were the other two cask ales, and there might have been one or two more in the other
section of the pub.
The paramedic team arrived
just as we were leaving, so most of us left them with the casualty, to sort
things out. I was quire sorry to be leaving the
Dolphin, as it really is one of
the best pubs in
Hastings. It was also the only hostelry on this trip that I
visited on my previous trip to the town.
It was here that I somehow became separated from the rest of
the group. I knew they were heading for one of the multitude of fish and chip
shops along the promenade, but which one? In the rush to depart the
Dolphin I was
aware that I should have emptied my bladder before leaving, but rather than
fight my way back up the steps, and through the pub to the
Gents, I headed off
across the
Stade, past the rows of black, tarred, fisherman's huts, to an area
overlooking the beach.
This is where some
relatively new and well-appointed public toilets are located, something I remembered
from my previous visit.
As one gets
older, knowing the location of such facilities is a wise move, and these ones overlooking
the beach were most welcome, and spotlessly clean as well.
But which chippy had my companions adjourned to? I wandered
up and down the
Stade without spotting them, so in the end I dived into the
nearest chip shop and ordered something to eat. I wasn't overly hungry, a
feeling that was probably due to the excessive heat, and a fact confirmed by
the chip shop proprietor. He claimed, in answer to my question about trade,
that the hot weather wasn't good for business. People seem to eat less, he claimed,
and I'm sure he was right, but that didn’t stop me buying a takeaway portion of
chips, wrapped in a paper cone, sprinkled with salt and drowned in copious
volumes of vinegar. They still slipped down a treat, despite my previous comments.
There was still no sign of my companions, so I dived into
the nearby
Royal Standard, a quaint old fisherman's pub overlooking seafront,
and a place I remembered from past visits to
Hastings. The
Standard belongs to
Shepherd
Neame, who own quite a few pubs in the town. The pub had a bright and airy feel
to it, especially with both doors open due to the warm weather. There was
plenty of people sitting outside too, taking in the sea air and topping up
their tans at the same time.
Two cask ales were on sale, one the ubiquitous
Whitstable
Bay Pale, and the second a beer called
Creekside. Described as a
juicy IPA, the
term
“juicy” rang a few alarm bells with me, as it implied craft murk, and all
that entails so I'm pleased I stuck with the tried and tested
Whitstable Bay. Shortly
before leaving I received a
WhatsApp message from the rest of the group, saying
they'd be in the nearby J
enny Lind at around
3:00pm. I set off for this well-known
Hastings pub, but with three pubs under my belt, and three more to go, it’s
time to take a break, and describe the remaining three, in the next article.
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