A lie-in, throws my meticulously laid plans into disarray

Good evening. After an absence of several weeks, the day before yesterday marked the return of Pub Friday. It had been a considerable time since my last bus trip, although I did take the train to Marden last Friday in a further attempt to revisit the two pubs that were closed on my Easter Monday visit. 

That trip was only partially successful, as disclosed in the previous article.  Currently, it is an “all-hands-on-deck” situation as Mrs. PBTS and I prepare for our two-week, British Isles cruise which commences on Sunday week. Additionally, we are faced with the task of clearing out 30 years of accumulated “items” from our kitchen, in order to make way for the installation of a new kitchen by the fitters we have engaged. The kitchen will be installed whilst we are away, allowing the craftsmen uninhibited access to the work area, without us getting in the way.

It is truly remarkable how much clutter can accumulate over the years. With numerous drawers and cupboards, the temptation often arises to store items rather than discard them, thinking they might be useful someday. While this may be my wife's rationale, I must admit that I am likely guilty of this habit as well. We made reasonable progress, and I was planning to continue the work, until my wife announced she had a VAT return to complete, on behalf of one of her builder clients. She mentioned that she could work best if I went out, allowing her some peace and quiet. I was more than happy to accommodate her request, but where should I go?

In my free time, I have been trying to visit as many Heritage Pubs listed by CAMRA as possible. This isn’t a “time-bound” project, but much more of an open-ended “as and when” type of exercise However, I have already visited most of the ones within easy travelling distance, those located farther afield, require a lot more forward planning and attention, in order to tick them off the list. I have considered spending a couple of days in Brighton, where there are about six heritage pubs., but there are also other “hot spots” such as Canterbury, Faversham and Thanet. These destinations involve a fair amount of travel time, hence the idea of a few overnight stops, or the occasional, long weekend.

One suggestion, a little closer to home, and perhaps more accessible (incorrect, as it happened), was the tiny maritime settlement of Upnor, a place that is nothing more than a hamlet, situated on an inlet off the Medway estuary, to the northwest of Chatham, and on the opposite bank of the river. It’s a place I've visited before, although the last time I set foot there, must have been 30 years or more ago. Upnor is graced by a charming little pub called the Tudor Rose sited at the top of a hill which leads down to the river. The pub was free house when I first knew it, although today it belongs to Shepherd Neame and, as referenced earlier, is on CAMRA’s Heritage Pub website.

https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/User:ClemRutter

Also on the site, is the village’s second pub, the King's Arms, which is a little further in land. So, the opportunity to tick off a couple of national inventory, heritage pubs seemed too good to miss, but how to get there using public transport, was the issue stopping me. Taking the train to Strood, was the obvious answer, as an hourly service operates between the Medway towns and Paddock Wood, but the fly in the ointment, proved to be the infrequent bus service between Strood and Upnor. Running at two hourly intervals, and at the most inconvenient of times – no joined-up thinking when it came to connecting with local rail services, I quickly dropped that idea. There was the option of a two-mile walk from Strood station, but I am not a huge fan of walking through urban areas, or of post-industrial blight.

Another day, perhaps, but not on a bright and sunny spring day, when I could be enjoying the splendour of the beautiful Kent and Sussex countryside, rather than trudging through a series of soulless industrial estates. This was where the idea of repeating a bus journey along the B 2110, in the direction of East Grinstead, re-surfaced.  The aforementioned road skirts the northern edge of Ashdown Forest, and on is way west passes through a number of delightful and picturesque Wealden settlements. Groombridge, Withyham, Hartfield, Colemans Hatch and Forest Row are the principal places along this road, although on this occasion Coleman’s Hatch would represent my most westerly point. It was exactly the same, just over three years ago, when I used the 291 Metrobus, which runs hourly, in both directions, between Tunbridge Wells & East Grinstead.

It was a similar sunny day back in March 2022, and I had every intention of not just using the same route, but of following the same line of attack. For this plan to work, and to take full advantage of the time intervals between buses, it is necessary to take the 10:52 bus from Tunbridge Wells RVP, which will drop you at 11:23 opposite Holy Trinity church, at Coleman’s Hatch. 

From there it is a 10-minute, uphill walk towards the boundaries of the forest, and the lovely old Hatch Inn, an establishment which despite describing itself as a gastropub, still functions as a proper, atmospheric, country inn. Dating from 1430, as evidenced by its low ceilings and numerous old beams, the Hatch Inn has the advantage of opening early, at 11:30am. This allows time for a leisurely first pint of the day, before heading back down to the church, and the 12:02 Metrobus, service back towards Tunbridge Wells.

That’s the theory, but things didn’t quite go to plan on Friday, because I overslept, and didn’t get to Tunbridge Wells until 20 minutes after the departure of the 10:52 service. It’s my own fault for not setting the alarm clock, although in mitigation this oversight was out of respect to Mrs PBT’s, who is grumpiness personified, first thing in the morning. I was convinced that I would wake up in time, but sadly I didn’t, and despite rushing to get ready, left the house with no chance of catching a connecting bus over to Tunbridge Wells.

That unintended lie-in, had the potential of de-railing my carefully worked out, plan of attack, as it would only allow 20 minutes to walk up to the Hatch Inn, gulp down a pint, before rushing back, admittedly downhill, to take a bus going back towards Tunbridge Wells. That was why that first bus, plus the 11:30 opening with its extra 30 minutes wiggle room, were the keys to the success of the entire day’s beer sampling. When you’ve screwed up, and it’s your own fault, there’s not much you can do, except admit you were wrong, and then put Plan B into action. Before doing this I dived into the Opera House (T. Wells, JDW) for a consolation flat white, along with the chance to observe the mid-morning trade at this flagship Wetherspoon’s outlet.

I then boarded the 11:52 bus, and alighted at Groombridge, a village that I’d originally intended as the final destination on the tour. There was a valid reason for this, because the Crown Inn, a lovely old pub that overlooks the village green, keeps old fashioned hours, and closes between 3pm and 5pm. In order to do justice to the Crown, as well as the other three pubs I visited that afternoon, you can read my experiences of all of them in the next post, which I’m sure you will find interesting.

 

Striding ahead

Although I've known this for some time, it's only now that I can actually confess to the fact that I am a slow walker. There’s nothing wrong with that of course, or indeed shameful, and it certainly doesn't make me a lesser person, but it's not just on walks to pubs, with fellow beer enthusiasts, that I've noticed this effect, I’ve come across it in other areas of life too. I remember back in my early teens, going hiking with the youth group I belonged to, when I always seemed to be amongst the stragglers at the end of the walk, keeping company with those who got left behind. 

At the time, there seemed nothing more frustrating than seeing the lead group ahead in the distance, sitting down and enjoying a break whilst waiting for stragglers like me to catch up. You’d then find that as soon as you’d caught up, the advanced party would announce that it was time to get going, and off they’d go again. They'd had time to rest up for a while and recuperate, when you of course, hadn't.

This pattern of behaviour was most apparent on the youth-hostelling trip to the Isle of Wight, that I made, with the same group. It didn’t particularly bother me at the time, because there were others walking at the same pace as me and they weren’t concerned either. There was also something of a rebel about me back then, and not conforming was part and parcel of the scene I was involved with, at the time. As the week drew on, we got lost on more than one occasion, which was quite easy, as none of us had a map. We knew roughly where we were supposed to end up, and usually, once off the hills, there were buses we could catch. On at least one occasion, we managed to get a bus that either went directly to, or pretty close to our final destination for the day and arrived ahead of those who had stayed the course, on foot. 

The group leader, who was the local vicar (it was a church youth group), never seemed bothered about people being left behind, working on the basis of self-reliance, and “toughening us up”. Perhaps he should have done, since he was a man of the cloth, although in those days, I don't think any qualifications were necessary to be in charge of a youth group. Fortunately, none of us came to any harm, even though there were cliffs we could have fallen from, or rivers we might have drowned in, proving perhaps, that the vicar of Wye & Brook was right in his approach, even though it would be frowned upon today.

Back to the walking, as well as the present day. Many of my beery trips out, start from Tonbridge station, which is reached by a 20-minute downhill walk from Bailey Towers. I’ve lost count of the number of times I've set off only to be overtaken by people coming up from behind. Once they’ve passed me, they seem to disappear off into the distance, arriving at the station some considerable time before me. I appreciate most of them are probably seasoned commuters, who know exactly how long their journey is going to take, but their speed does seem a little disheartening at times.

They are obviously people whose natural walking pace is much faster than my own, and this includes individuals of both genders, many of whom seem to stride effortlessly by. Fortunately, I normally factor in sufficient time to not only reach the station, but to purchase my ticket as well. The other occasions when I’ve noticed this head down, fastest foot forwards approach has been during company business trips to Cologne, where we were exhibiting at the International Dental Show (IDS).  The mornings would begin with breakfast at the hotel, followed by a walk past the main station and then up across the river Rhine, via the Hohenzollern Bridge.

The latter is a similar structure to London’s Hungerford Bridge in so much that it carries pedestrians, alongside the train tracks, across a wide river. Once across the Rhine, we would make our way to the Köln Messe exhibition halls, where the show was taking place. There was normally half a dozen of us, and I was never part of the leading group, as there were colleagues who walked so fast as to give the impression of participating in a relay race. Nevertheless, we all arrived, each morning, at the company stand in time for the show’s opening. I've given up trying to emulate these people, although the joke is Mrs PBT’s thinks I'm a fast walker. I probably am, compared to her but certainly not when it comes to many, if not most, of my contemporaries.

Back to hiking, or rambling, if you prefer, and the last major long-distance footpath I walked, was the North Downs Way, which I completed in September 2022. After starting this LDP as part of a group, I ended up walking the majority of the trail on my own primarily because I felt that as my pace was slower, I was holding the group back. This is why I recommend walking solo, at your own pace, as it allows you to see what you want to see, take breaks for meals or drinks as needed, find a discreet place for personal needs, enjoy the solitude and experience the joy of being in nature alone.

There are exceptions to this, especially if you can find a walking partner whose pace matches your own. I was fortunate to experience this with my friend Eric, 15 years ago, when we completed the South Downs Way LDP, walking the trail in strict linear fashion, east to west (Eastbourne to Winchester). This was different, and perhaps more satisfying, than the piecemeal approach I adopted for the North Downs Way   

Our walking pace must have been equal, because I don’t recall ever feeling rushed, or feeling that our progress was too fast, or too slow. Perhaps it had something to do with stature, as we are both of similar height, and build, although now I am carrying quite a bit more weight. It might also be down to leg length, which must have a bearing on one’s stride. I don’t know my friend’s inside leg measurement, but at 29”, mine is on the short side, and Mrs PBT’s likes teasing me about it.

Having recently turned 70, I am pleased I can still enjoy outdoor activities and appreciate the great outdoors. I am aware though, that my stamina is not quite what it was 10 or even 5 years ago, but this is a natural part of aging, and despite this my aim is to continue walking as often as possible. Walking is an excellent form of exercise, allowing one to maintain fitness while enjoying the fresh air and the beauty of the English countryside.

Although this has been rather a brief post, and not particularly beer related, I would be interested to hearing about others' experiences when walking, whether individually or as part of a group. For much more detailed information about hiking, and walking in general, I strongly recommend checking out Rambling Man, the highly informative, and also entertaining website of seasoned walker, Andrew Bowden. Andrew has completed many of the long-distance footpaths in the British Isles, and as well as recounting his experiences of walking these trails, his blog is packed full of useful facts, figures and important information for those inspired to hike some of these paths themselves.

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Second time lucky for Marden? Only sort of!

It should have been a case of second time lucky when I made a return visit to the Wealden village of Marden last Friday. This followed on from my Easter Monday trip, which was less than a fortnight previously, and was when I discovered that both pubs in the village were closed. Shut on a Bank Holiday, don’t these publicans want to earn a living? I’m assuming they did such a roaring trade over the previous three days, that it wasn’t worth their while opening on the fourth day of the long Easter break. Perhaps they did, but somehow, I suspect they didn’t, and whilst they might well have their own private reasons for not opening their doors that day, a spot of advanced notice on their websites, social media, or both might have others from the same wasted journey that I had.

Fortune favours the brave, as they say, so somewhat foolhardily I decided to give the West End Tavern and the Unicorn, another chance. The pubs are situated at opposite ends of the village, with less than 10 minutes walking distance between them, so determined not to be deterred, last Friday afternoon I once again took the train over to Marden. Unless there was a logical explanation for the previous occurrence, it seemed unlikely that both pubs in a thriving and prosperous village would be closed once more.

At Mrs. PBT's suggestion (she is always right, you know), I contacted one of the pubs, the Unicorn, to confirm that it was open. Yes, it was, and it was open all day, although there would be a break during the afternoon when the kitchen would be closed. Perhaps I should have phoned the other pub as well, but I decided against this. As before, I set off and walked down to Tonbridge station, where there was the same half-hourly service running. The weather was warmer than on my previous visit, in fact it was hot enough for me to wear my shorts for the first time this year.

I knew that the West End Tavern would not be open until 2pm, so I headed towards the Unicorn instead. The front door was wide open, reflecting not just the warm weather we were experiencing, but also as a welcome draw for customers. Harvey’s Best and Fuller’s London Pride were the cask beers on sale, and by way of a change, I went for the latter. Full-bodied, tasty and almost “chewy”, as one well known beer blogger would say. The same individual would also agree that the Pride was certainly drinking well that afternoon. Incidentally, that “drinking well” remark, has become a popular cliché amongst quite a number of beer bloggers, and writers, although heaven knows why?

More to the point, it was quite a while since I last had a pint of Fuller’s legendary, flagship beer, and as we don’t see that often, in this part of the country, despite our relative proximity to the capital, it would have been rude to have not tried a pint. The pub wasn’t exactly packed for early afternoon, but there were people sitting out in the garden at the rear of the pub, and there was a nice atmosphere about the place. I might have stayed and grabbed a “lite bite” to keep me going (Cooking Lager, please take note), but I was keen to try out Marden’s other pub, the West End Tavern.

I drank up, and headed of towards the latter establishment, feeling fairly confident that this time, it would be open. However, despite arriving sometime after the stated 2pm opening, I once again found both doors firmly locked, and no lights on inside either. I peered through one of the windows, and it looked pleasant enough inside. I didn’t notice any hand pumps, but they might have been tucked away somewhere. The food offering looked good, and reasonably priced - as evidenced by the chalkboard attached to the fence (see photo above).  But after finding the pub doors firmly locked, for the second time in a row, I never got the chance to sample the food, or the beer. What on earth goes on with the management of these places?

What to do next, then? Return to the Unicorn, leave the train at Paddock Wood and try out the pubs there, or return to Tonbridge? I chose the latter, as I wanted to call in at the Nationwide, and also get a bite to eat.  So, building society first, and Greggs second, where I procured a roast chicken baguette, dressed up with a dash of mayonnaise and a few sprigs of water cress. Another beer was next on the agenda, but having already missed the turning for the Nelson, I headed towards Fuggle’s but then stopped in my tracks when I noticed Ye Olde Chequers, straight ahead.

This imposing, half-timbered building is of the oldest constructions in the town, and also one of the oldest pubs. After the castle, the Chequers is probably the most photographed building in Tonbridge, and has been described as "one of the finest examples of a Kentish timber-framed building that can be found today". It stands on the High Street on a site just below the castle where an inn possibly stood in 1264. The present building dates back over 500 years to the late 15^th Century. The room on the first floor is said to have been used as a Justices' room and at times a hangman's noose dangled from a strong oak sign post that jutted out over the street.

Despite its impressive pedigree, the Chequers has never really lived up to its full potential, as far as I am concerned.  When I first came to Tonbridge, initially to work and then later on, to live, the Chequers was a two bar, Courage house, and over the years it never progressed much beyond this, apart from losing its two-bar status. These criticisms aside, it was a popular pub under the watchful eye of legendary, old-school licensees, Dave and Maureen, and this was especially true of the lunchtime trade. I remember the large, heated glass cabinet that was the first thing customers saw upon entering the pub. I found this rather off-putting, and I was never sure quite how long the food remained on display.

This was back in the day when workers, dined out at lunchtime, a practice that seems largely to have died out. Also gone, are the three or four-pint sessions at lunchtime, which is probably just as well in terms of efficiency and safety in the workplace. Today the Chequers is operated by Pendry’s Pubs Ltd, a company that is based in Ongar, Essex. I knew that as well as Harvey’s, I could get a pint of St Austell Tribute at the Chequers, so by way of a change I stopped off there, rather than continuing on to Fuggle’s.

In view of the warm weather, I took my pint out to the terrace area at the rear of the pub, where a few other drinkers were soaking up the sunshine. I joined them and enjoyed a pleasant and well-conditioned pint of Tribute, a beer that always seems overshadowed by its stronger stablemate, Proper Job. After that, it was the good old 219 bus home, after an interesting day, despite it not quite turning out as expected.

The Beau Nash Tavern - 30 years on

I'd been meaning to get over to Tunbridge Wells and the Beau Nash Tavern for quite some time, following a blog post from retired Martin. RM's wife grew up in the Tunbridge Wells area, and with her parents living at nearby Southborough, Martin and Christine are frequent visitors to the town. The post I am referring to was one where Martin related his thoughts about the Beau Nash and followed on from a lunchtime session he spent there with Mrs RM and her parents. Martin’s post reminded me that it was many a year since I last set foot in this charming establishment, so it was high time to put things right. Tucked away behind the Royal Wells Hotel, at the top of Mount Ephraim, overlooking the town, the Beau Nash is what is best known as a “Mews Pub.” By that I mean the pub would have started life as a set of stables, used to house the horses needed to transport guests, to and from the adjacent hotel. As in most locations in the UK, the majority of these stables would have been converted into living accommodation, as horse drawn transport declined.

My opportunity to visit the Beau Nash arose the other Saturday when I had to call in at what is now the nearest branch of the Halifax Building Society. I travelled over to Tunbridge Wells by bus, using my free-travel pass, and after disembarking at Five Ways, directly opposite the town’s Royal Victoria Place shopping centre, proceeded towards the Halifax. Despite arriving fully prepared with the necessary documentation, it became apparent that the Halifax was quite blatantly, attempting to discourage in-person visits, by promoting the notion that everything could be done online.

Unfortunately, they misunderstood my needs, as there ARE certain situations where human interaction is irreplaceable. All I wanted to do was to transfer funds from a recently matured ISA, into a new one, and having already found the online process for doing this, unnecessarily complex, wanted to speak to a member of staff who could guide me through this. It was definitely a real-life case of “computer says  no,” because the stony-faced employee was about as much use as a chocolate teapot. I witnessed another customer giving short shrift to the counter clerk who suggested he download the Halifax app. This gentleman, who looked considerably older than me, informed the cashier in no uncertain terms, that he used his phone to talk with people, and at his time of life, didn’t want to start learning about apps!

Full marks there, as his concerns resonated with me. It seems as if every organisation one deals with today, regards their app as the best thing since sliced bread and promotes it without thought or question, neglecting the fact that these features can quickly clog up the memory of a mobile phone. As the disgruntled customer walked away, I told him that I agreed with him. 

This didn’t appear to do me any favours, when it was my turn to talk to Nurse Ratched, although she did at least hand me a card with a helpline number printed on the back. She added that the people on the end of that line might be able to help, although she was still insistent that it would be easier to sort out my transfer request online. 

Feeling frustrated, rather than enlightened, I left the building society, crossed the road, and walked up the hill toward Tunbridge Wells Common. I paused on the way, to take some photos, including a few of two houses built on rocky outcrops, overlooking the town below. At the summit of Mount Ephraim, I passed the impressive looking Royal Wells Hotel, before turning into the narrow alley leading to the Beau Nash. When I first became familiar with this pub, back in the mid-1980’s, it was a well-regarded establishment known for offering beers that were unusual for the area. It’s hard to believe then that Harvey's was one such beer, despite being brewed just 30 miles away, down the road in Lewes.

As I walked along the narrow passage towards the pub, its bright green exterior seemed different to what I remembered, although it did look attractive in the bright mid-morning sunshine. I passed a couple of fellas, in morning dress with white, button hole carnations, fixed to their jacket lapels. They were obviously on their way to a wedding, but as it wasn’t clear who was the groom, and who was the best man, I wished them both good luck. They thanked me with a grin, whilst I headed toward the pub entrance. Before entering, I could see around the corner and into the courtyard behind. In a short while I would sitting out there too, but first I had a pint to order, plus a pub interior to reacquaint myself with.

The cool, and slightly dim interior of the Beau Nash, with its colourful stained-glass windows, did bring back a few memories, especially of the days when I thought Tunbridge Wells was a really exotic place to visit. Internally, there was much wood panelling, a solid wooden floor, wooden tables, chairs and sofas and which together with warm orange lighting, induced a cosy atmosphere. Apart from the bar staff, there were only a couple of customers inside, as most were sitting out in the courtyard, taking advantage of the fine weather.

I walked up to the bar where I was faced by an attractive looking bank of hand pumps, but only one beer. It was Harvey’s Best, of course, and given my previous knowledge of the pub, what else could it be? So, I ordered a pint of Lewes’s finest, alongside a bag of plain crisps, and headed outside, but not before I’d taken a few photos of the interior. I found a shady spot where I could sit and indulge in a spot of people-watching, whilst at the same time admiring the well-laid out pub garden, whose existence I was totally unaware of until that moment. It was set on two different levels, and nicely laid out on with contemporary, but comfortable furniture, with areas of shade as well as full sun. All in all, there was a general good vibe about the place.

I got stuck into my pint of Sussex, although I didn't rush because I knew I'd have to drive once I got back to Tonbridge, so could only have the one pint. Mrs PBT's wanted me to chauffeur her to the supermarket, to pick up some food shopping. I swear she does this deliberately to curtail my visits to the pub, as whilst we do need a weekly shop, let’s make do with one expedition, rather than several! Second rant of the day over, and after finishing my beer, I headed back along Mount Ephraim, passing the site of the long-demolished Kent & Sussex ("Kent and Snuff it", as it was jokingly called), but the site is now occupied by an upmarket, residential development. Not quite a "gated" one, but it might as well be. 

I’d probably just missed a bus, and there was quite a wait for the next one, so would my bladder hold out, even after a single pint? More importantly, would the public toilets, opposite Tonbridge station be open, or would the little "scrotes" have been up to their mischief, causing criminal damage? These little “treasures” will be old one day, and I sincerely wish they get caught in a place where there are no toilet facilities. Luckily, the facilities were open, and even more fortuitously, I only had a to wait a couple of minutes for the 219 bus, a service that saves a long, slow and tiring walk up Pembury Road, a thoroughfare that seems to go on forever!

 

It's bad enough when one pub in a village can't be bothered to open, but when both are stubbornly closed, what's a poor boy supposed to do?

The long Easter weekend was quite uneventful for me, especially in terms of both beer, and pubs visited, but it still provided a welcome break from work. Thursday and Friday were spent sorting things out in both house and garden, whilst Saturday was a shopping day. It was also the day when my filling fell out, as mentioned in the previous blog post. On Sunday, Matthew drove us over to Uckfield, in order to visit Eileen’s niece Heidi, for an extended family gathering. A nice buffet spread had laid on, and since I wasn’t driving, I was able to enjoy a beer or two. Unfortunately the beer selection left a lot to be desired, which was unusual as Heidi's husband Phil, normally has a good variety of bottles and cans available. 

Somehow, the couple had either drank it all or forgot to restock. I had to make do with a can of  Kronenbourg which, whilst refreshing, didn’t exactly inspire me to have another. However, as the cakes and other desserts were being served by then, I declined a second can. I would have done the same with a bitter or a pale ale, as I find the majority of beers, regardless of style, don’t go well with sweet things. In fact, it’s no exaggeration to say that cakes, puddings and chocolate ruin the taste of beer, making it, for me at least, virtually undrinkable.

On Easter Monday, Matthew had to go to work, and Eileen had some accounting work to do, so I decided to head out as a train enthusiast instead of taking the bus. After checking the train schedule, I found that my chosen destination of Marden was quite accessible, and despite it being a bank holiday, there was a half-hourly service between the village and Tonbridge. Marden is a pleasant village that is only two stops down the line from Tonbridge. Furthermore, the journey time is only 12 minutes. Geographically it is situated approximately 8 miles south of the County Town of Maidstone.

The Parish of Marden has a population of just over 5,000 souls and lies in an area renowned for the growing of apples and hops, as well as more general mixed farming. The village has a number of local shops including a Post Office, three Convenience Stores, a Butchers plus a Bakers. There are also two pubs, along with the famed Marden Village Club – national winner of CAMRA’s Club of the Year for 2022 and 2023.

It had been a long time since I last visited the village, and I’m guessing here it would have been back in 2010. That was when a small group of local CAMRA members attended a social event at the West End Tavern, a pub which lies to the west of the village centre. There is another pub in the Marden called the Unicorn at the opposite end to the aforementioned. Both pubs are just over five minutes' walk from the station, as I discovered during my visit, albeit at opposite ends of the village. I also recall another pub in Marden, which was the Rose & Crown. This rather basic pub, closed in 1981, despite a concerted campaign to keep it open, organised by the local CAMRA branch.

So far so good, and with spirits running high I alighted from the train and made my way towards the West End Tavern.  On the way I passed a local curry house that had all the hallmarks of a former pub. The name Taj of Kent curry house was a possible clue (Man of Kent, anyone?), but a search through the archives for lost pubs, subsequently failed to turn anything up. I continued on to the West End Tavern and was surprised to find both doors locked – rather unusually, in this day and age, the pub still has separate Public and Saloon bars. Undeterred, I headed back in the opposite direction to the Unicorn, a pub that I’d never been in before. 

On the way I stopped for a look at the rather attractive, parish church of St Michael & All Angels, which dates back to 1200. I didn’t venture inside, as I was rather thirsty at this stage, although had I known that the Unicorn would also be closed, I would have called in. The Unicorn’s website states “Closed Monday, except for Bank Holidays” so why on earth was the place shut, with no sign of life inside, when I tried to gain entry at 14:10? The usual lunchtime opening time is 12 noon, so on the final day of a traditionally busy, holiday weekend, this pub feels that it’s unnecessary to open its doors to the paying public.

I gave up in disgust and made my way back to the station. With hindsight I could have called in at the Marden Club, but unlike Pete Brown who wrote a book on the subject, I’ve never been a fan of clubs, political, workingman’s, or other so I gave up on that. I’m also not a member of any organisation that might permit me entrance, either, so it was the next train back to Tonbridge for me. It wasn’t a totally wasted day, as I’d enjoyed a pleasant stroll, around an equally pleasant Kent village, and there was always the prospect of a return visit, when I knew for certain that both pubs would be open.

There was also the immediate prospect of a pint when I arrived back in Tonbridge. The choice was between Fuggle’s and the Nelson Arms, and purely for the fact that the Nelson was running a “tap takeover”  over the weekend, Fuggle’s received my custom that afternoon. I’m really not a fan of these “takeovers” as I view them as just another gimmick in the aspiring licensee’s calendar – a “crowd pleaser” for beer-tickers and getting your pub in the CAMRA Good Beer Guide, if you like.  Also, what’s the point in keeping a pub with a large number of pumps available, if they’re all given over to the products of a single brewery? Langham was the company concerned, and whilst their beers are pleasant enough, they don’t exactly float my boat.

Fuggle’s on the other hand, had an interesting selection, of just four cask ales, and a truly excellent pint of Spring Protagonist, from Lost & Grounded provided that refreshing and welcoming pint that I’d been looking forward to all day. As for the two closed pubs, what on earth were they playing at? I know that seasoned pub tickers like Martin, Duncan and Simon come up against this issue all the time, but if you are running a hospitality business that by its nature is open to the public, for pity’s sake, keep people informed as to what is going on. I checked the pub’s websites, their social media pages, and saw nothing about them not opening on Easter Monday, so they are the losers, rather than me.  But please don’t come crying when customers stop visiting your outlet, because they never know whether or not you will be open!