1001 Beers You Must Try Before You Die

  
I received this weighty tome as a Christmas gift back in 2010, (the year it was published). Although I flicked through the pages at the time, I didn't really pay that much attention to it, as at 960 pages it take a bit of wading through. However, it is good to dip into, from time to time, if only to see what the various contributors view as  their "Must try beers", and to see whether you agree with their selection or not. The colour photographs used to illustrate the book deserve special mention. The editor states that "the photographers took great care to photograph the beers at the temperature  suggested by the brewers, and where possible, they photographed each beer in the appropriate branded glass."

A book this size though is rather unwieldy, and I have to say it's not very easy to navigate around either, but it goes with others in the "1001 XYZ You Must Try Before You Die " series such as 1001 Wines and 1001 Foods, alongside the almost obligatory "1001 Places You Must See Before You Die". The publishers who thought up this concept must be laughing all the way to the bank! 
 
Returning to finding one's way around the book for a minute; 1001 Beers lists its selection primarily by colour (see below*), rather than country or brewery, but this does involve a lot of page hopping. There is a handy "Index of Beers by Country", at the front of the publication, which affords a quick ready reference, but only if you already know the beers you are looking for. However, in an idle moment of curiosity, and given the appalling weather we've been having there's been plenty of those this Christmas break, I decided to be really geeky and nerdy and count up just how many of the 1001 beers I have actually tried.

The total came out at 150 beers, or just under 15%, although I'm pretty certain there are quite a few others I may have sampled in the past, but can't remember for definite. This particularly applies to the Belgian beers, where I seem to have mislaid the notes I have kept over many years sampling the beers of that country, both in the UK and in Belgium itself.  I also discovered that, when looked at on a country-by-country basis, there are nation's who's beers I have sampled at a much higher rate than others.

It is therefore not surprising that England comes out on top, with 75 out of 110 but, on the other hand, despite regular visits to Germany, admittedly mainly to Bavaria, I only manage 19 out of 96  beers listed. At the other end of the spectrum my tally for the United States is a mere 7 out of 242, and this is my main gripe with the book, although I'm sure other beer writers would disagree: it is too heavily biased towards the USA (or are there just so many fine beers out there that I haven't yet had the chance to sample?)

So why does this matter I hear people ask? The simple answer is, of course, it doesn't mater one jot. I am not a ticker, determined to cross off as many beers as possible, but someone who likes to drink interesting and characterful beers. I do normally make a note, particularly if I find them to my liking, in order that I can look out for them again in the future. Equally, if they are not to my taste, then I will also make a record, normally a mental one, so I can avoid them in the future.

Concepts such as "1001 XYZ You Must Try Before You Die " are inevitably flawed, and I don't like the use of the word "must" in such cases. As someone in his late 50's  I resent people trying to tell me what to do, and question the use of "must" in these circumstances. Why "must" I try these beers? Who the hell says that I "must" try them?  The answer, in this case, comes from the book's 42 contributors. They include well-known beer writers such as Pete Brown, Des de Moor, Jeff Evans, Evan Rail and Sally Toms; Beer Shop owner and blogger Zak Avery. Fellow bloggers and beer lovers Melisa Cole and Jeff Pickthall, beer historian and avid blogger-cum-writer Ron Pattinson, plus a number of international contributors. The whole project was overseen by Adrian Tierny-Jones who, as well as reviewing some of the beers, acted as General Editor, co-ordinating the project and putting everything together.

I am not suggesting you rush out and buy the book, even though Amazon have it listed at just £10 (half its cover price!). However, I would be interested to hear what others think of it and, more importantly from a beer geek point of view, how many of the 1001 beers they have tried.

*The beer style/colours are:
Amber - Top-fermenting ales, copper-coloured bitters, IPAs, pale ale etc.
Blond  - Light-coloured lagers, golden ales and some IPAs.
White - Primarily wheat beers.
Dark - Stouts, porters, brown ales and dark lagers.
Speciality- Lambics, fruit beers, barrel-aged beers and anything that doesn't fit into the categories above.

The Old House - Classic, Basic, Unspoilt & Still Trading

On Saturday I had the pleasure of visiting, for the second time this month and the third time this year, one of only three National Inventory Pubs in Kent, and one that is just a short bus ride away from my home in Tonbridge.

The pub I am referring to is the Old House, at Ightham Common, a small settlement just off the A227, and close to the much larger village of Ightham. If ever a pub deserved the accord  "Classic, Basic and Unspoilt" then the Old House does, and what also makes the pub unusual is that it is effectively a "hobby pub", run by one of the two owning brothers, as a sideline to the family accountancy practice.


I included a write-up on the Old House in a post written back in August, so I won't bother repeating what I wrote here. Also the following link to CAMRA's National Pub Inventory website contains a much more detailed description of the pub, together with Michael Slaughter's excellent photo's of the interior, which are far better than anything my camera-phone could produce.

Anyway, on  Saturday myself plus four fellow  CAMRA members boarded the 222 Tonbridge to Borough Green service, which took us on a scenic detour through the Kent countryside, (admittedly not looking its best at this time of year). Alighting at the top of the hill leading down into Ightham Common, it was a short walk down to the pub, which can be found in Redwell Lane. The Old House is an un-pretentious looking building, dating in part from the 17th Century. Although there is no sign outside, it has the look of a pub, and stepping inside is like stepping back to what pubs were like in the early half of the last century.

We settled for the larger, and more basic, main bar on the left. Normally, at this time of year, the bar is heated by an open log fire, burning brightly in the massive ingle-nook fireplace, but being a relatively mild day, landlord Nick Boulter had not lit the fire when we arrived, although he did do so later. As usual there was an  interesting range of beer on, including Dark Star Hophead, alongside Tripple fff Comfortably Numb and, a must try beer at this time of year, Inncognito a Port Stout from plain Ales of Salisbury Plain. All the beers are gravity dispensed from casks kept in a temperature-controlled room, just behind the bar.

For a while, apart from a couple of elderly gentlemen in the smaller, and more comfortably furnished right hand bar, we were the only drinkers in the pub, but it didn't take too long before other customers started arriving. Our time in the Old House was slightly limited as, owing to the vagaries of the bus timetable, there was a bus back to Tonbridge departing just after 2pm, but then there wasn't another until 5pm. Whilst all of us would  have been quite content to remain where we were, Nick shuts up shop around 3pm. I should explain he doesn't live there, even though as I understand things this was his childhood home. The Old House is therefore a "lock-up" pub as well as a hobby one!

We still had nearly two and a half hours though to enjoy the pub and its excellent beers I started with a pint of Golden Braid, an excellent 3.7% golden ale from the often overlooked and,  at times underrated Hopdaemon Brewery. In business at Newnham, near Faversham since 2000, Hopdaemon produce a fine range of beers, most of which have a mythical theme to their names. Brewer and owner, Tony Prins, a New Zealander by birth, sometimes used to deliver his beers in person back in the days when I had my off-licence, and I have always found them to be eminently drinkable. They are available in both cask and bottled form, and the latter can often be found in local branches of Sainsburys and Waitrose. The brewery sometimes appears eclipsed by some of the newer arrivals on the scene, but Tony deserves credit for his use of  fine aroma hops in his beers and for his passioante approach to his craft.

I moved on to the Hophead for my second pint, but whilst I am a huge fan of Dark Star beers I have to say that, on this occasion, the Golden Braid definitely had the edge. Some of my companions tried the Comfortably Numb, whilst others gave the Young's Special a go. Unless there is nothing else available, the latter is a beer I tend to avoid, especially when I remember how richly, fruity and hoppy this beer used to be back in its Wandsworth heyday. When I compare it to the bland, thin apology for a beer that it has become today, then I feel sad at the demise of a former iconic beer, sacrificed on  the altar of corporate greed.

My final pint was the aforementioned Port Stout, from Plain Ales. Now I don't know too much about this brewery, although I have since discovered they turn out some excellent beers. This was the second plain ales beer I have tried recently; the other being Innocence, a 4.0% golden bitter, which I sampled on my previous visit a fortnight ago. Despite a relatively low strength of 4.8%, Inncognito proved rather a heavy beer to drink and rather than rushing it, I found myself slipping behind my companions. We were not in a race though so this didn't matter, but it was my last pint of the session.

We now had a couple of different options. The first was to walk along the lanes to Ivy Hatch, the next village, where we had learnt the somewhat food-oriented Plough is now under new ownership and keen to re-invent itself as a community local. The Plough's website was also showing the pub as stocking beers from Birling-based Kent Brewery - a company who's beers we don't often see in our area. The downside to this was a walk back in the dark to the busy main road, where bus stops are few and far between.

The other option was to catch the 14.09 bus back to Tonbridge, and then call in and sample some of the Christmas ales on sale at the Humphrey Bean; our local Wetherspoons. We were pretty evenly split on what to do, and had almost decided to split into two factions, when a look outside at the rapidly deteriorating weather made our minds up for us, and we opted for the early bus and the Christmas ales. This was a shame really, as we missed an opportunity to check out a pub we seldom, if ever, visit. On the plus side though we decided that come the spring we would arrange a return visit to the Old House, but would then go on to the aforementioned Plough followed by a visit to the Padwell Arms, at nearby Stone Street. A decade or more ago, the Padwell was West Kent CAMRA branch pub of the year, but during the intervening years has seen a succession of different owners. Again it would have been good to check how its current, relatively new licensees are getting on, but walking along unlit country roads in the dark and the rain is not a good idea, so like the Plough, the Padwell will have to wait until the New Year, and the better weather.

We said our farewells to Nick, walked the short distance back up the hill and caught the bus home. On the way we passed yet another unspoilt country inn, the Kentish Rifleman at Dunk's Green, and made a mental note to pencil in a visit there as well, along with the legendary Golding Hop in nearby Plaxtol.

The Humphrey Bean wasn't too busy when we arrived, which meant we didn't have to wait to get served. I went for the Albury Ruby,  a 4.6% warming dark winter beer, from Surrey Hills Brewery, and then followed this with a pint of Yuletide, a 4.5% dark-ruby coloured winter ale from Adnams. Although this was not an official branch social, let alone a formal branch meeting, we agreed to set up a mobile meeting/calendar group for those of us with smartphones, and to look at ways to enhance better and speedier communication of news and developments on the local pub scene. All this would be linked to our branch website and Facebook page, and would also incorporate links to Twitter for those who use this form of social media. The thinking behind all these ideas was to enable faster dissemination of information and also to enable us to meet up quickly when we receive wind of special events, unusual beers on sale etc.

It's amazing how a few beers can stimulate the thought processes, so all in all it was an enjoyable and  productive day out.

Classic, Basic & Unspoilt No.4 - The Sussex Arms, Tunbridge Wells

The pubs we have looked at so far have all been rural ones, but towns are not exempt from having basic and unspoilt hostelries, and the Sussex Arms, in Royal Tunbridge Wells, was just such a pub. It was situated just round the corner from the historic Pantiles,  and no visit to  the town was complete without popping into the "Sussex Shades" as it was known locally. The pub wasn't a classic so far as architecture was concerned, although it did date back to the 17th Century. What made the Sussex special was the unique character of the pub. This was created by landlord Dennis Lane who, with his wife Barbara, had run the pub from 1958 to 1987. They furnished it with artefact's purchased from the nearby auction rooms; the collection of chamber pots was legendary. So too were the number of locks on the front door - alleged to number 27 in total!

The Sussex was a freehouse in the true sense of the word. Along with a variety of different beers, Harvey’s PA was always available, together with XXXX Old Ale in winter. During such times, a welcoming coal fire was kept burning in the grate. One very memorable evening, our local CAMRA branch had arranged a visit to Larkins Brewery, which was then situated in nearby Rusthall. The visit had been arranged by Bob Dockerty, the head brewer and owner of Larkins. Bob had recently purchased the business from the former Royal Tunbridge Wells Brewery, and was keen to make our acquaintance. We had agreed to meet up with him at the Sussex, before going on to the brewery.

Larkins Best Bitter was on sale that evening, and as we waited for Bob to arrive, Barbara provided us with bread and cheese on a "help yourselves" basis. A great slab of cheddar, plus a pile of white bread "doorsteps" was placed on the bar; the perfect accompaniment to the beer. With the fire blazing away merrily behind us, we all felt extremely reluctant to leave the pub that night. This was despite the tempting prospect of the free beer at Larkin’s Brewery!

In 1987 the Pantiles area was earmarked by the local council for what amounted to "gentrification". Other people, including myself, had a less polite word for it, but with the redevelopment work going on all around them, Dennis and Barbara decided to call it a day, and sold up in the autumn of that year. Rumours were rife at the time about how the property company, entrusted by the council to carry out the re-development, had been keen to force the Lanes out. Certainly a real pub run by, and used by real characters, did not fit into their plans. What they wanted instead for the Pantiles was an upmarket refurbishment with a rather twee, almost kitsch 18th Century England theme, of the sort that has become all too common place throughout the country.

The Sussex ended up by being completely gutted, and turned into a trendy pub aimed at the youth market. Plans for it to brew its own beer came to nothing, and eventually the pub was sold to Greene King. The area immediately surrounding the pub was opened up, and it is now no longer "tucked away" in the way it once was. That such a fine old institution, like the Sussex, was allowed to disappear in this fashion, is yet another sorry example of the way in which so-called town-planners, architects and property companies have become totally divorced from the wishes of ordinary people.

 Footnote:  to be fair to the current owners, the Sussex is now a pleasant and popular town pub that has mellowed nicely since its conversion a quarter of a century ago. It features a number of different guest ales alongside the usual Greene King offerings, and is one of three pubs in the Pantiles area of Tunbridge Wells managed by the same people. (The Duke of York and the Ragged Trousers are the other two).

The rather faded photo of the pub, is taken from "Old Pubs of Tunbridge Wells & District", by Keith Hetherington & Alun Griffiths, published by Meresborough Books in 1986. It is the only pre-conversion photo  I could find.

The Ideal Glass?

On my visit to the Pilsner Urquell Brewery, back in September, I treated myself to a souvenir glass. Now I wouldn't normally indulge myself in this fashion as, according to my wife, we have more than enough beer glasses in the house - and I'm sure she's right! Consequently I rarely, if ever, hang on to glasses following beer festivals, returning said article at the end of each visit and claiming back my deposit.

What caught my eye in this case though was the size, and hence the usefulness, of the glass. The drinking vessel in question is a smooth, straight-sided cylindrical tankard, with a solid bottom and a sturdy handle. The glass is emblazoned with the legend "Pilsner Urquell" in a green-coloured script that slope upwards, above which is the seal of said company depicted  in red and gold. The great practical thing about this tankard is that it has an embossed line indicating 0.5l,  that is a full inch and a half below the rim of the glass.

It is obviously a glass designed for local consumption (we saw, and indeed drank from such vessels at the restaurant in the visitor's centre at the brewery). The Czechs like a decent sized head on their beer, hence glasses that allow sufficient space for this, AND for a full measure of beer!

For use back home it's ideal, especially for bottle-conditioned beers which have to be poured carefully and ideally in one go, so as to avoid disturbing the sediment at the bottom of the bottle. This is often less than easy, particularly with a lively beer. All too often one has to stop pouring, thereby risking disturbing the yeast, because the head has become too large and if one was to continue pouring the remainder of the beer would end up all over the floor. My new glass is therefore just the ticket. and I look forward to drinking a whole host of different beers from it over the course of the festive season.

The Batsford Pub Guides

Back in the early 1960’s, the publishers Batsford produced a series of pub guides based either on counties, or regions. They also produced one on London Pubs. So far as I am aware, the series never covered the whole country and, apart from Oxfordshire & Buckinghamshire, was confined to East Anglia, London and the South East. 

I now have all six of these guides, having just acquired, the one covering the adjoining counties of Oxfordshire & Buckinghamshire, courtesy of Amazon. This now joins the other five in my collection that covers East Anglia, Kent, London, Surrey and Sussex. Each guide was researched and written by a different author, in a broadly similar style, but with individual nuances, and the odd quirk, that make for an interesting and, at times, highly entertaining read. What is especially noteworthy about these guides is that the entry for each pub lists the owning brewery and, in the case of the Kent Guide, goes so far as to list the individual draught beers on sale). For those, like myself, who are interested in a bit of brewery history, this makes fascinating reading, and gives a glimpse of what drinkers in the 1960’s could expect when they stepped inside a pub.

So what were the pubs of this era like? Well, for a start the majority of them offered the choice of Public or Saloon bar in which customers could enjoy their drinks; a situation that still largely held true back when I first started frequenting pubs. As I get older and look back on what were undoubtedly simpler times, I find myself really missing the choice that a two-bar pub used to offer. A game of darts or cribbage with the locals, or a get together with the lads then the public bar was the obvious choice. Taking a girl out on a date, calling in for a bar meal or going for a drink with one’s parents, then it was definitely the saloon bar.

Heaven knows what possessed brewers and pub owners to rob us of this choice, but if it was in a mistaken move to remove class barriers and adopt a more egalitarian approach then they were grossly mistaken,  as the difference between the public and saloon bars were nothing to do with class, wealth or any similar misconceptions.  In fact it must rank as the greatest single act of vandalism perpetrated on our pubs within living memory! This point is made nicely in the Oxfordshire & Buckinghamshire Guide: The tendency in recent years for brewers to do away with public bars and enlarge the saloon is a n idea that can have unfortunate repercussions. Often not only do the public-bar customers vanish, but the “improvements” to the saloon result in a vast room of negative character, doing nothing to please the regular customers or to attract new ones. It seems people were thinking this was a bad idea back in the 60’s, but no-one took any notice!

Anyway, I digress, but without wishing to over-generalise, pubs were pubs 50 – 60 years ago, and whilst some may have had up-market pretencions, on the whole they catered for the needs of their individual communities far better than many of today’s pubs do.

It is interesting to note who owned what back in the 60’s; the “Big Six” were just starting to emerge, but the guides show that regional breweries, many of whom would later merge with similar sized concerns, or get bought outright by the fledgling large combines, owned the majority of the nation’s pub stock, but being local/regional, were well placed to cater for local tastes and needs. For example in Sussex Tamplins, Henty & Constable, Star Brewery (Eastbourne), Friary Meux and Brickwoods owned the majority of pubs, In neighbouring Surrey,  Charrington, Courage, Friary Meux and Watneys controlled most of the pubs, with a small handful being owned by Whitbread and Youngs.  Moving into East Anglia, the Norwich breweries of Bullards and Steward & Patteson, destined later to both be swallowed up (and closed) by Watney Mann, ruled the roost throughout most of Norfolk, whilst further south, and east, it was the likes of Trumans and Lacons (Great Yarmouth) that catered for local drinkers, with a healthy scattering of Adnams in Norfolk and Greene King in Suffolk.

London is a special case, as one might expect of the capital, in that most of the major brewers were represented, and most of them also still had breweries operating in the city. Thus drinkers would have had a choice of Charrington, Courage, Ind Coope, Manns, Truman, Watneys and Whitbread, along with a scattering of national brands from the likes of Bass and Worthington.  Interestingly, Friary Meux of Guildford owned quite a few pubs in the capital, due to the merger of  Surrey based Friary with Meux of Nine Elms, London. Of course none of these companies exist as separate entities today, and none have breweries based in the capital..

Returning to my home county of Kent for a while, by far the largest brewers at the time were Fremlins of Maidstone, who offered a wide range of different beers, including a mild, several bitters of varying strength, plus old ale in winter. Next were Courage who, whilst based in London, offered a variety of different brews that also included the then legendary Directors, which was produced at the group’s brewery at Alton in Hampshire. There were also a number of smaller brewers based in the east of the county which included Mackeson (a Whitbread subsidiary since the 1920’s), Tomson & Wotton and Cobbs (both of whom were largely confined to the Isle of Thanet).

Oxfordshire and Buckinghamshire make interesting reading, with both counties blessed with a number of local and several different regional breweries, most of which have now vanished. For example, whilst Courage (following their merger with Simonds of Reading) and Ind Coope were the major pub owners in the two counties, companies like Wethereds and Benskins were not far behind. One could also find pubs belonging to Flowers, Henley Brewery Co (Brakspears), Hunt Edmunds (Banbury), Morland (Abingdon) and Morrells (Oxford). A number of other breweries also get a mention, including Harmans (Uxbridge), Hook Norton, and Phipps (Northampton).

There was also one pub  company which despite owning a large number of pubs, particularly in Buckinghamshire, did not brew; the Aylesbury Brewery Company ceased brewing in 1937, but brought in beer from other breweries (primarily Ind Coope at the time the guide was written), as they considered this more economical than producing the beer themselves. This arrangement continued until 1972, when the company was acquired outright, by Ind Coope’s successors – Allied Breweries..

There is a wonderfully ironic passage in the Oxfordshire & Buckinghamshire guide about beer which reads as follows: The beer is Flowers, and it is all from the keg - there is no draught. For the older bitter-drinker, set in his ways and notoriously critical of his beer, this might, perhaps, be considered a drawback. But this is the tendency today, and the generation now beginning to develop a palate for beer will one day describe to their grandchildren those far-off days when the beer came in wooden casks, and needed such care before it was ready to sell.

These six guides provide a fascinating snapshot into a world of pubs and beers that has changed out of all recognition, and in some places vanished altogether. It is a world that precedes the start of my drinking career by some 10 years, but is a world I can still connect and empathise with; a world that is at times still familiar yet at other times distant.

If anyone knows of other guides in this series, apart from those mentioned above, I would be most grateful if they could  please let me know.

Christmas Beers

I know I'm rather late with this one, especially as the beers in question have been on sale for several weeks now, and known about for a few more before that as well. No matter, the other day I was thumbing through a copy of Wetherspoon's house magazine when I came to the page giving details of the so-called Christmas Ales they would be featuring over the festive season. There was also a write up on the subject by Jeff Evans, author of CAMRA's Good Bottled Beer Guide and well-respected beer writer to boot.


Jeff's article is, as one would expect, well written and well laid out. It begins with a look back to those times, as little as 30 years or so ago, when Christmas was the only time of the year one could expect to see something different on the bar apart from a brewer's mild, bitter and possibly best bitter.  He contrasts this with the situation today when, at this time of year, there is a whole plethora of so-called Christmas Ales weighing down the nation's bars Jeff picks out  a few of his favourites, and whilst he does make mention of the silly Christmas-themed puns that are all too common, as he was obviously writing a commissioned article for JDW doesn't really come down too hard on  the weak sounding names, and equally weak strength, of some of the beers,

I can certainly remember when the situation Jeff  harks back to was the norm, when Christmas Ales really were something special, rather than just a slightly reddish coloured best bitter with a silly name and equally silly pump clip. Whilst I obviously welcome the far greater availability of seasonal ales today, I do feel that the whole Christmas thing has been dumbed down and lost its meaning.

 
So what do I look for in a Christmas beer? Well, a decent strength to start with; ideally something around 6.0% and certainly nothing below 5.0%! I also like my Christmas ale to be dark in colour (brewers please note: ruby is NOT dark!),  full-bodied and well-hopped. Far too many of today's festive offerings are pale in colour (sometimes even golden!), low in strength and low on taste. The only thing Christmassy about them is the name on the pump clip, and all too often that is a silly pun or spoonerism with a dubious Christmas connection.


My all time seasonal favourite  is Harvey's Christmas Ale,  a beer I have written about on several past occasions, including a fairly recent post. I have also in the past, enjoyed Hook Norton's Twelve Days, another fine dark ale, not as strong as Harvey's, but still a welcome sight on a pub bar. Last night's West Kent CAMRA social in the Bedford, Tunbridge Wells, ended on a high note for me, with a glass of Old Dairy Snow Top, a dark warming 6.0% abv Winter Ale, not exclusively brewed for the Christmas period, but still much appreciated at this time of year. I managed to pick up a bottle of this excellent beer, whilst back over the Wells today. Being bottle-conditioned, it needs to stand for a day or two, but it should be ready for drinking on the big day itself, which is now just a few days away.

There will be more on my own selection of beers for Christmas a bit nearer the event itself.

Classic, Basic & Unspoilt, No. 3 - The Ringlestone Inn

Unlike the first two pubs in this series, the pub I am about to describe is still trading. However, like many pubs that could once have been described as Classic, Basic & Unspoilt, this one has had to move with the times, go "up-market" and start catering for the restaurant brigade. Perhaps this is the price of survival in today's depressed pub trade? Read on and see what you think.

In 1979, after nearly six years away, first as a student in Greater Manchester and then working in London, I moved back to Kent. I set up home in Maidstone, in the west of the county, an area I was unfamiliar with having been brought up in East Kent. My new surroundings afforded plenty of opportunity to explore the local pubs, and armed with the latest CAMRA Guide to Real Ale Pubs in Kent I set off to discover what this part of the county had to offer. I soon had the good fortune to come upon the then unspoilt Ringlestone Inn. 

The Ringlestone was a classic country pub that also had a rather interesting history attached to it. It nestles high up on the North Downs, above the villages of Harrietsham and Lenham, along some rather narrow and twisting lanes. What I liked about the pub was its simplicity. With its un-plastered, bare-brick walls, stone floors, barred windows and antique furniture, together with oil lights and candles for illumination, the Ringlestone had a genuine old world feel to it. As an added attraction, the beers served were dispensed direct from the cask.

As was usual with many free-houses thirty years ago, only a limited range of ales was stocked. This meant though that they were all kept in tip-top condition. When I first became acquainted with the pub the cask beers sold were Draught Bass, Fremlins Bitter and Fremlins Tusker. The latter, in particular, was a superb drink that tasted even better by virtue of the gravity dispense. Later on the beer range was expanded, to include ales from both Everards and Tolly Cobbold, whilst at the same time Bass was discontinued. At the time the Ringlestone was privately owned by a couple who's names unfortunately escape me.

There was just the one bar which, as described above, was simply furnished. During the winter months it was heated by a log-burning stove. There was also a separate and very tiny restaurant, which was only open on Friday and Saturday evenings, and lit by candle-light. I particularly remember enjoying Christmas Dinner there one December evening, along with fellow committee members of the Maidstone and Mid- Kent branch of CAMRA. It was a truly atmospheric setting for such an occasion, made all the more memorable by the quality of both the beer and the food.

There is a story concerning the Ringlestone, which  has passed into legend. It pre-dates the time that I first knew the pub by some years. During the early 1960’s, the Ringlestone was owned and run by two women; a mother and her daughter. Given the pub’s isolated position, the pair took no chances with strangers, and kept a loaded shot-gun hidden behind the bar. According to the tale, if they did not like the look of you, the shot-gun would be produced, and you would be told in no uncertain terms that your custom was not welcome! All gripping stuff, and as a child  I remember my parents talking about an isolated pub,  run by two eccentric women who kept a loaded shot-gun behind the bar, in order to frighten off anyone they regarded as unwelcome. Mum and Dad weren't certain of the name, or exact location of this pub, but it was obviously  the Ringlestone they were talking about.

I managed to conduct some research on the subject and, according to Wikipedia, the women were called Florence (Ma) and Dora Gasking. They were indeed  mother and daughter, and they took over the pub in 1958. They acquired quite a notorious reputation, and were frequently armed with a shotgun, inspecting their clientele and requiring unwanted guests to leave. They are also said to have required a "speakeasy"-style series of secret knocks to gain entry to the pub!

One correspondent on Beer in the Evening looks back on those days: "I remember it when it was owned by "Ma" and her daughter. Back then, you often had to knock on the door to gain admittance and that was by no means a guarantee if Ma didn't like the look of you. She kept a loaded shotgun behind the bar, and would grab it quite often to deter anyone she didn't feel deserved to be in her hostelry. On one occasion, Peggy & Barclay, who were at that time owners of the nearby Blacksmiths Arms in Wormshill, told me that they visited Ma on their night off. Several youths were attempting to get in, rattling the locked door. After Ma told them to "piss off" and they continued to ask to be let in, apparently Ma said, "Barclay! Get my gun!" And sure enough, he said, she fired buckshot at the inside of the door and, not surprisingly, the lads outside decided to go home. I did not see Ma actually use the shotgun, but she did wave it around, convinced that customers were intent on robbing her, because there was no electricity and the place was quite gloomy at night, lighted only by flickering gas lamps or oil lanterns. The beer was very good, as I recall, served directly into jugs from barrels behind the bar. After Ma passed on it lost a lot of its atmosphere and really wasn't worth a visit."

In the early 1980’s the Ringlestone changed hands, and has since undergone quite dramatic changes. The small restaurant room was connected through to the main bar, but fortunately this was carried out without  spoiling the character of the pub. In late 1984 I ended up even further away from my roots when I moved to Tonbridge. The Ringlestone was now no longer a short 20 minute drive away and I have only re-visited it on a couple of occasions. Whilst it is still a pleasant enough pub, it has been expanded  in size, and like I hinted at the beginning of this article, has gone hankering after the food trade. To make matters worse the pub was bought in 2005 by Faversham Brewers, Shepherd Neame. As many of you will know I am not a fan of their beer so there is now even less incentive for me to call in at the Ringlestone. Instead I prefer to remember it as it was when I first knew it, thirty years ago.