Southampton, via the A272 cross-country route

Our drive down to Southampton the other weekend, followed a different route from our usual one. I shall explain the reason shortly, but for a moment let's reflect on our usual drive which is to follow the A26 from Tonbridge, down to Lewes, via Tunbridge Wells, Crowborough and the Uckfield. 

It's a route I know well, after having worked for three years in Lewes, but as far as speed is concerned, the A26 is not the quickest of roads as it's single carriageway in its entirety. At Lewes, we turn onto the A27, which then takes us into the back of Brighton, close to Falmer and Brighton & Hove Albion's football ground, before continuing on past Hove, Worthing, Arundel and Chichester, before picking up the M27 at Portsmouth. From there it's a relatively straight forward run into Southampton - providing you don't follow the route suggested by Mrs PBT's sat-nav! That's a story for another day, though.

This time around, I was advised by a work colleague to avoid Worthing altogether, as the roads there recently have been gridlocked, due to cable installation, or some other "essential" task. My colleague lives locally, and because of the road works, advised me to seek an alternative route. He came up with the same road as me, which was the A272, a cross-country road that starts just outside Uckfield, and then continues all the way to Winchester. It's not the fastest of roads, as not only does it twist and turn a lot, but it also crosses several of the major routes that radiate out of London, like the spokes on a wheel. The A272 is a road I've long wished to journey along, as it would bring back memories of the time my father decided that taking the cross-country route, that avoided London, back from South Wales, was a good idea.

I think that like me now, dad wanted to experience a part of his youth, which was why after stopping off at Stonehenge (an attraction the family had visited before), he continued on to Winchester where, up on St Catherine's Hill he'd carried out various manoeuvres and other military stuff, as part of his National Service, with the 7th Armoured Division of the King's Royal Rifles aka, the "Desert Rats". Dad was in his element here, reliving the experience of, what he described as, "playing soldiers." He was also fortunate that his National Service only took him as far as Hampshire and Germany, as some unlucky conscripts were posted to active war zones, in areas such as Malaya, Kenya or even Korea, and quite a few of them, sadly, never came back. 

I've a feeling that on that trip we also visited Winchester's imposing cathedral, although that might have been on a different occasion, but whatever the case we picked up the A272 there, and continued on what seemed like a never-ending journey back to Kent. The family lived just outside Ashford at the time, so not only did we have the whole of the A272 to travel along, but there was then the added "bonus" of the rural route across to Tunbridge Wells, followed by the A262 back through Goudhurst, Cranbrook and several other villages further east. 

In short, the journey took an age, but my father seemed to relish it, and it was almost certainly the inspiration for me wanting to repeat part of that monumental drive. There were places such as Petworth and Petersfield, with similar sounding names, that stuck in my mind, there were also several "hursts" along the way as well (Midhurst, Billingshurst), and whilst hurst is a common suffix in the Wealden areas of Sussex and Kent, these places had a certain appeal about them, that like my father, I also wanted to experience again. The fact that some of these places, whilst not quite on my doorstep, are close to home, was also not lost on me either. 

So, shortly after 8.30am, on a bright and sunny Sunday morning, Eileen and I set off on our drive down to Southampton, in order to join our cruise ship. I'm not going to describe the whole journey, but the strange thing is that 50+ years after that journey along the A272, none of the towns and villages we passed through, looked remotely familiar! 

This didn't matter though, and if anything added to the experience, although the drive from Uckfield to Petersfield did seem to take an inordinately long time. The road now bypasses certain towns, such as Haywards Heath and Billingshurst, although I don't think it did 50 or so years ago. There are plenty of twists and turns along the way, and some quite narrow stretches as well. The A272 isn't a road for putting your foot down either, and most of the way we were lucky to make 40mph, but despite the slow progress it was a pleasant and enjoyable drive.

We stopped for a "comfort break" at Midhurst, which seemed a pleasant and attractive town, and a bit later on we passed through Petworth. If anything the latter seemed even more appealing than Midhurst, and it set me thinking, that this relatively unknown part of West Sussex would be a good place to explore further, and get to know some of its pubs. I noticed that Simon (BRAPA), has recently been GBG ticking in the area. I haven't got round to reading his reports yet, although I expect they will make interesting reading. I'm not sure yet whether we will be taking the same route when we return from Southampton, but I will be checking in advance with my colleague to establish the state of play regarding the roads around Worthing. 

Spoiler alert, after consulting my colleague, and finding the roadworks had been lifted, we took the southerly route, via the A27. It was not as attractive, but was considerably quicker.

A quick update as the cruise draws to an end

It's time for an update, and whilst I haven't posted anything for a week, or more, I haven't been idle. Problems connecting to the internet whilst on board ship, to say nothing of the cost, are responsible for my online silence, but I have been busy knocking out posts for when I eventually get home. 

One thing that hasn't changed though, is my inability to post photos, and whilst I don't think it's the same issue as the one affecting Simon Everitt, the end result unfortunately, is much the same. With luck, I can go back over the past four or five posts, when I get home, although please bear with me, as I'm straight back to work the day after we return. 

We're on the homeward leg of the voyage now, having departed our final point of call a couple of hours ago. The location we've recently departed was the
charming Irish town of Cobh, a place that found unwanted fame, if that's the right word, as the last port of call by the Titanic, as it set out on its ill-fated voyage across the Atlantic. It was the place where many of the poorest people embarked on the liner as they set off in search of a better life in the New World, a life that sadly, was not to be for many of them. As for us, all being well, we are due to dock at Southampton, on Sunday morning. 

Cobh itself though was charming, in fact I'd go as far as saying it was picture perfect. Known as Queenstown, until 1920, when its name was understandably changed following the creation of the Irish Free State, Cobh acts as the port for Cork. The latter is the second largest city in the Irish Republic, and the home to two famous brands of Irish stout, both of which are more than capable of giving Guinness, the country's most famous export, a good run for its money. More about Beamish and Murphy's later, as Cobh's style and appeal go way beyond the delights of two, very good, dry Irish stouts. 

The setting, overlooking several large inlets of the Irish sea, not only allows suitable deep water anchorage for large vessels, including cruise ships, such as the Queen Anne. Several fellow passengers claimed that Cobh reminded them of Cornwall, which is a description I would whole-heartedly agree with, as both locations are text-book examples of drowned river valleys, formed by rising sea levels at the end of the last Ice Age.

 It wasn't just the charm of the town and its multi-coloured, pastel shaded buildings, that ticked all the right boxes, for Mrs PBT's and I, it was the easy-going appeal of Cobh itself, and its inhabitants that sold the place to us. The weather helped as well, with the longest and warmest spell of sunshine of the entire trip. That's it for the time being, we've got one more full day at sea, and then it's back to reality - until the next time.

Newhaven - the Scottish one!

Although I’ve been to Edinburgh several times and have even been to Leith - often described as the Scottish capital’s port, I’d never been to Newhaven, let alone heard of it. I’m obviously familiar with the south coast town of the same name, but until the other day the Scottish one remained a complete mystery. However, I am pleased to report that I found the small Scottish, seaside port of Newhaven a pleasant and very welcome surprise. 

Stepping ashore from the tender, after a calm and quite scenic crossing by ship’s tender (lifeboat), from Queen Anne, proved to be a real delight, on a day that was bright, sunny and reasonably warm. After our small craft had tied up at the picturesque harbour, and I’d stepped ashore, my first task was to get my bearings, and then find a pub.

Fortunately, representatives from the town’s tourist board were on hand, dishing out maps, and dispensing friendly and useful advice. I’d already carried out a spot of research, via What Pub, and the two pubs I’d picked, seem to agree with what the "Visit Newhaven" ladies were saying. They also helped get me into Mrs PBT’s good books, by informing me of a large ASDA supermarket, not far from the harbour. It actually ended up making her jealous, as she would liked to have visited the store itself - we’re supposed to be on holiday btw, not shopping for yet more clothes!

Supermarkets aside, and with What Pub acting as my guide, I headed away from the harbour area and turned right along the shoreline. On the way I passed the Harbour Inn, the first of the potential pubs on my hit list. Advertising itself as a Belhaven house, it is of course a Greene King pub, and to their credit, the East Anglian giant has kept this heritage brewery, based in nearby Dunbar open. Deciding to keep the Harbour in reserve for later, I continued further along the coast to the attractive looking, and stone-built Starbank Inn.

The Starbank had that immediate “wow” factor, that screams out this is going to be a good pub, a feeling that was enhanced by the friendly greeting I received from the landlady. There was a fine selection of cask ales on offer, although a couple of them were shown as “coming soon” a la Wetherspoons. 

I opted for Lost in Mosaic, from Loch Lomond Brewery, and despite the beer being advertised as a “New World IPA”, thankfully, there were no signs of cloudy murk in sight. Instead, I was presented with an excellent, and easy drinking mid-
strength IPA that was a pleasure to drink, and a welcome return to cask after the bottled ales on the ship.

With no hint of any pressure, the landlady asked if I was looking for a bite to eat, and after applying in the affirmative, I was presented with the pub’s menu. A chicken and bacon sandwich, from the “lite bites” selection, fitted the bill, with a choice of white bread, or ciabatta. I went for the former, and when my substantial “snack” arrived it was well presented. I know, that in the past, I have moaned about the garnish that often accompanies such sandwiches, but in this case, it wasn’t just nicely presented, but was tasty as well – something about the dressing?

Although I wasn’t the first person to walk through the pub door that morning, I was pretty close to being that individual, so I noticed with interest how this experienced licensee used the same sales technique on everyone who came through the doors. By and large, it worked, especially with the group of Americans that arrived a short while later. Looking and listening to them, like me, they’d obviously arrived off the same cruise ship as me. It was worth staying for another beer, and this time I opted for an old favourite that I’d not seen in ages. Deuchars IPA is, of course, no longer brewed at the historic Caledonian Brewery on the outskirts of Edinburgh. Corporate owners, Heineken put paid to that, but whichever brewery is the new custodian of this beer, had obviously done a good job.

All in all, the Starbank turned out to be an excellent pub, and I was delighted with this choice. I conveyed my gratitude to the landlady as I left. Knowing I was only in town for a short while, she recommended I try the Old Chain Pier, an attractive looking, single storey structure, overlooking the beach. It was just a short stroll away, on the opposite side of the road, and with mine hostesses’ recommendation, ringing in my ears, it would have been rude not to give the place a try. 

It's a bit hard to put a handle on the Old Chain Pier, although the licensee of the Starbank had mentioned it was quite food oriented. This feature was amplified by the “Please Wait Here to be Seated” notice, just inside the door. I explained to the barman that I just wanted a drink, which was fine, and I was instructed to find myself a table. 

There was a reasonable selection of beers, so feeling adventurous I opted for Swan Blonde from Bowness Bay Brewing, before settling down to enjoy the view. It was interesting to note the large party of tourists, who I think were from Japan. I ought to be able to recognise people from that part of the world by now, seeing as the company I work for is Japanese owned, but it’s easy to make a mistake, and at the end of the day, it doesn’t really matter. What I did twig was they were students, and judging by the tags on their baggage, they had recently in Scotland.

The bar was pleasant enough, but it wasn’t a place I wanted to linger too long at (unlike the Starbank, for example), so after finishing my drink, I wandered back along the promenade in the direction of the harbour. Pleased to see there wasn’t much of a queue, I decided I ought to nip along to ASDA and pick up a few goodies for Mrs PBT’s.  It was an ASDA and a half, with a branch of Greggs attached, but the tissues, soap and snacks I’d been instructed to buy were sufficient, as far as I was concerned. The transfer back to the ship was uneventful, with minimal queuing to board the tender.  

Eileen was jealous that she had missed the enormous ASDA, but the crisps and Kit Kats went down well. As for Newhaven, well it was a very nice place, and well worth the tram ride along from Edinburgh, if you are ever in the area. There are also some photos, at long last, and the sharp-eyed amongst you will probably have noticed that I've been steadily re-editing the articles I posted, whilst on the cruise.

Ship to shore - it's not always as easy as you might think

We’re coming to the end of our third full day onboard Queen Anne, and whilst everything is pretty hunky dory on the ship itself, there’s been a few hiccups with the arrangements for going ashore. As mentioned in a previous post, Tuesday’s visit to Newhaven – the designated transfer port for Edinburgh, involved a transfer by tender – basically a number of the ships’ lifeboats. Unfortunately, whilst there was sufficient small craft available on Queen Anne, there was only one sea-level, “loading platform” at the side of the ship to enable passengers to board the tenders.

So, whilst I left it until mid-morning to make my way over to terra firma, there was nearly an hour’s wait until I was able to enter one of the lifeboats. The organisers had arranged a system, whereby participants waited in the ship’s theatre, until their particular group was called. 

Apart from nearly losing the will to live, I was also on the verge of giving up, when the group I was allocated to, was finally invited to board. Having now been ashore, and experienced the delights of Newhaven, I’m glad that I persevered rather than bailing out. I’m guessing that the morning incident was just one of everyone wanting to travel at once, because the transfer back to the ship passed off relatively smoothly. It’s just as well that Mrs PBT’s had decided not to come with me, as she is by nature a rather impatient person, as well as someone who is prone to grumpiness when things aren’t going her way.

This came to the fore in this morning’s bus transfer into the small town of Invergordon, from the port. It wasn’t far, and I could easily have walked it, but given her mobility issues, Eileen couldn’t, so the bus it was. Again, the shore experiences crew seem to have seriously underestimated the numbers of passengers wishing to go ashore, and we were crammed into the bus like sardines. With the driver urging people to move right to the back of the bus, because he was licensed to carry up to 34 standing passengers, it wasn’t a pleasant experience, even though it was a short one. I thought the driver was telling porkies at first, but a formal notice about passenger numbers was painted on the bus interior. Scottish law is obviously different to that which applies in England, because bus drivers back home, will only allow a maximum of a dozen people standing, inside their vehicles.

There wasn’t much to see or do in Invergordon, so I accompanied Mrs PT’s back to the ship, with the aim of walking back into town, and trying out the single pub that we’d seen, only to be told that I couldn’t. I discovered that pedestrian traffic is not permitted in what is classed as a “Working Port,” even though there was little evidence of much work taking place! A couple of oil-drilling platforms were undergoing maintenance, but that aside, the bulk of the workforce were parading around in their hi-vis jackets and safety helmets, bossing queuing passengers around.

A ridiculous situation, especially when I consider other ports that I’ve walked through, or train tracks I’ve crossed in certain central European countries. It wouldn’t have taken more than five minutes to exit the port on foot, and then five more minutes to walk into Invergordon itself. Instead, I was obliged take the shuttle back into town and then wait for a bus back. 

There are only two pubs remaining in Invergordon, when once there was eight, and the only shop of any size was the Co-Op. The rest of the town seemed given over to charity shops, plus the obligatory Turkish Barbers, but when set against the backdrop of the hillsides, and the inlet of the sea, together with the almost wall-to wall sunshine we enjoyed, I’m really pleased that the voyage organisers had decided to call in there.

We’ve one more tender transfer port on our itinerary, and that’s Dún Laoghaire, where Queen Anne will be at anchor, offshore. From Dún Laoghaire, there will be sight-seeing and shuttle buses into nearby Dublin, but I shall give the Irish capital a miss. I spent a most enjoyable long weekend there, ten years ago, in what was a booze-infused visit. A couple of hours there, by tour bus, somehow doesn’t go anywhere near doing Dublin justice, so a tour around some of the city’s finest pubs will just have to wait for another day.

First full day at sea, or a few more tales from the North Sea

It's our first full day on board Queen Anne, and after a solid night’s sleep for both of us, we’re looking out over a calm, but rather grey looking North Sea. Feeling lazy after the hectic rush of the past few days – stress levels high yesterday after getting lost on the approaches to Southampton, (more about that another time), we’ve ordered a room service breakfast, before setting out to explore the ship. Update, the breakfast in the room was fine, and suited my requirements for a recharge, but for the rest of the voyage I shall be breakfasting either at the buffet or, if I feel like kippers, in the restaurant. It's also nice to have pre-breakfast stroll, and few possibly a post-breakfast laps around the quarter deck.

I clocked up quite a few steps this morning, prior to a prearranged rendezvous with my wife, up on Deck 14. The latter is the designated “smoking area” and whilst Eileen vapes these days, rather than smokes, the former is viewed with equal disdain in certain quarters. Mind you, it’s rather chilly on the uppermost deck, and whilst there’s some basic shelter from the rain, the area is still quite exposed, especially when it’s windy.

As mentioned in the previous post, this is our second voyage on board what is Cunard’s newest cruise ships, and whilst I was quite critical following our initial sailing – just under a year ago, I think I’m correct in saying the ship’s management and crew appear to have got over most of their teething problems.  Certainly, from what I’ve seen so far, things are running a lot smoother, and the ship’s appeal is growing for both Mrs PBT’s and I.

Tomorrow’s port of call is Newhaven, which acts as the deep-water berthing point for Edinburgh. It’s disembarkation by tender, which basically means leaving the ship, and transferring to shore, using a number of the vessel’s lifeboats. Eileen isn’t over keen, although needless to say I’m up for it. I shan’t be taking any of the excursions into Edinburgh though, or bothering with local public transport, because Newhaven looks worthy of exploration on its own. I’ve earmarked a couple of pubs, and they will do me, plus there’s a spot of shopping that Mrs PBT’s has asked me to pick up for her.

We lunched in the ship’s pub, the Golden Lion today, and we did the same yesterday, almost immediately after boarding. Most of the dishes in the pub are included in the cost of the voyage, although if you’re mad enough to splash the cash, you can opt for a creation from Michel Roux. Why would you, though? Unless you’re one of the vain, gullible people taken in by the cult of the celebrity chef!

The standard fare in the pub is pretty good, and yesterday we both enjoyed hake, chips and mushy peas, whilst today I had a rather nice chicken and mushroom pie, with mash potato. The portions aren’t huge, which is probably just as well, but they’re tasty and well presented. The Golden Lion also offers a good range of bottled beers (the draught selection isn’t up to much), from the likes of St Austell, Badger, Adnams, and yesterday’s excellent choice Maharaja IPA from Renegade Brewery. My only complaint is the bottles are almost frozen, rather than chilled, but then as Paul Hogan used to say, “You wouldn’t want a warm one!”

So far, the weather has been remarkably benign, with virtually wall-to-wall sunshine, and a North Sea that looks as smooth and as calm as the proverbial millpond. Our cabin, sorry “State Room," is comfortable and well-appointed and, should we need anything else, there’s our room steward, who goes by the unlikely name of “Rommel” to take care of things - no remarks about the Afrika Korp, and the "Desert Fox," please!

There’s not much else to report at the moment so, providing I haven’t bored you all to death yet, I’m going to sign off, and report back later in the voyage. After yesterday’s debacle, I won’t attempt to post any photos yet, but unlike Simon (BRAPA), who is also experiencing issues regarding photos, I shan’t attempt anything generated by AI – for the time being at least.

Round Britain cruise - May 2025

Just a short post because by the time you read this post, Mrs PBT’s and I should be cruising up the eastern side of the Britain and heading into the potentially choppy waters of the North Sea. We’ve embarked on 14-night cruise aboard the Cunard Queen Anne, that will take us right round the British Isles in an anticlockwise direction, visiting a number of interesting locations on the way, including Invergordon, Stornoway, Greenock and Liverpool, as well as calling at suitable deep-water ports for Edinburgh, Dublin and Cork. There will be coach trips to these three cities, although having visited both the Scottish and Irish capitals, I shall give these two destinations a miss, and see what’s available locally, in their respective ports.

We sailed on the Queen Anne on last year, on a cruise of the western Mediterranean, and it will be interesting to see how the ship is settling in. I say this because the Anne is the newest vessel amongst Cunard’s four Queen ships, and has experienced a few teething troubles whilst settling in. These things are to be expected, and I imagine that any issues will have been sorted by now, so it’s fingers crossed for a smooth sailing plus the chance to experience parts of these fair isles of ours.

Mrs PBT’s has packed enough clothes and supplies to cover an around-the-world journey, which might be somewhat excessive, although I understand her caution given the unpredictability of British weather. With this in mind, I have prudently included one relatively thick coat, because as the saying goes, "There is no such thing as bad weather, only inappropriate clothing." My packing could have been minimized further if not for the additional items my wife requested to be included in my suitcase. Consequently, I had to opt for the largest suitcase we’ve got at home, to accommodate these extras.

That aside, we are both looking forward to our trip. Saturday was extremely busy as we both spent the day thoroughly clearing out our kitchen. This involves removing items accumulated over the past 30 years rather than simply packing for a holiday. While we are away, we are having a new kitchen fitted. It obviously makes sense for the work to be carried out in our absence, although we have left our son Matthew in nominal charge of proceedings, so we will see how things progress during our absence.

Well-known ports of call include two days in Liverpool. However, exploring the city on the first day might be challenging due to an open-top bus parade for Liverpool FC, celebrating their recent football championship. Unfortunately, this means my plans to visit several National Inventory pubs have been altered. A work colleague, with family connections to Liverpool, has warned that the pubs will be extremely crowded, noisy, and best avoided. 

Which means postponing visits to the NI pubs, will have to wait until the following day. However, my wife has informed me that we will have a royal guest on board ship in the form of  the Princess Royal - so Princess Anne visits Queen Anne. This might mean movement on and off the ship will be restricted, due to security concerns surrounding the royal personage, so we shall see how it turns out. 

When our ship visits Ireland, there will be a coach transfer into the city from our stop at Dun Laoghaire, However, since I have visited Dublin before, I will probably skip the city tour and explore the local area instead. Our next stop, Cobh (formerly Queenstown), holds historical significance as it was the last port of call for the Titanic on its ill-fated maiden voyage. Following its departure from Cobh, the ship entered the Atlantic and tragically met its end on 15th April 1912, after that fateful collision with an iceberg. 

I am tidying up this post with the help of AI as it is currently quite disorganized due to being dictated rather than typed. While embracing new technology, I remain committed to maintaining creativity. Let's see how this turns out. I will be taking my laptop with me, so hopefully, I will be able to post while at sea or at least once we dock somewhere with a 4G signal. That's all for now, although I plan to be back in touch soon. 

No photos, at the moment, unfortunately, due to the dreaded IT issues. I had enough trouble connecting my laptop to the ship's Wi-Fi, and now it's not recognising the link to my photos, I'm afraid you will have to use your imaginations until I get the issue fixed. Sorry! 

Along the edge of the Forest - Pt. Two

In the previous post you left me outside the Bear in village of Hartfield, waiting for the 291 bus to carry me in a westerly direction to Coleman’s Hatch. I had a rather late appointment to keep there at the Hatch Inn, which was the pub I should have visited first, on this little outing, in view of its 11:30 opening time. I shan’t bother repeating the story again, but oversleeping that morning, if only by about 20 minutes, rather put a spanner in the works. I was still keen to visit the Hatch Inn, after being impressed with the place on previous visits, and this is despite the pub being regarded as quite an upmarket drinking house.

I like the setting of the pub itself, as well, standing as it does on the edge of Ashdown Forest, where it forms a big attraction for those wanting to escape the hustle and bustle of everyday life. Originally a row of three cottages dating back to 1430, the Hatch Inn became an inn during the 18^th century, when it was known as the “Cock.” It was later renamed the Hatch, at Coleman's Gate, which is one of the gates, or “Hatches" that lead onto Ashdown Forest. The inn is one of several in the area, and the allure of this low, dark building nestled into the landscape, contributes to the allure of this atmospheric old inn.

The Hatch Inn has earned numerous accolades, featuring in The Good Pub Guide, AA Best Pubs, AA Best Pub Food, Country Life Magazine, Time Out Magazine, and the Daily Telegraph's Best of British Pubs, among others, which perhaps explains its upmarket reputation. This would be my third visit to the Hatch Inn, but a work colleague who knows the area better than I do admits to having indulged in a spot of celebrity spotting at the pub.  I can’t remember any of these people’s names, but rather than trying to impress, my workmate was attempting to illustrate just how much money there, is floating round locally.

As for Ashdown Forest, it’s an ancient area of Outstanding Natural Beauty, and with its highest point reaching 732 feet above sea level its views are legendary, stretching as far as the North Downs and South Downs, depending on which way you are looking. So, whether it’s a gentle stroll before lunch or a more challenging trek to build your appetite for an evening meal, the Forest offers a diverse range of fauna and flora, heathland and forest. I’ve written before about how my walking friend Eric, and I traversed the Forest as part of our Wealdway Walk, in 2010.

The 291 metro bus services include a
feature where some buses have a visual display indicating the name of the next stop, and in some cases, this is also announced audibly. However, not all buses are equipped with these features, and some that do have them may not have them switched on. This can be a disadvantage for bus travel, especially if you are unfamiliar with the route, as it makes it difficult to know where the stops are and increases the possibility of getting off at the wrong stop.

The bus I took lacked an information system, but fortunately, I had a rough idea of where to disembark based on my previous visit. As we approached the church at Coleman’s Hatch, I recognised it was time for me to get off. I pressed the button, and the bus came to a halt—not too abruptly, although the driver still seemed slightly surprised. After leaving the bus, I crossed the road to check the return times. I realised then that I would not have much time at the pub, so determined to make the most of my visit, I headed up the hill towards the Hatch Inn. Although I could have extended my visit and taken a later bus back, I was determined to visit at least one other pub before returning to Tunbridge Wells.

It was a warm and balmy summer’s day as I walked up the hill and across the junction at the top, which was the point where, almost hidden on the other side of the junction, was the Hatch Inn, peeping out from behind the trees and looking splendid in the late spring sunshine. The majority of customers were sitting outside taking advantage of the sun at on it inside and ordered myself a pint of 360° Double Act, a 3.9% abv pale ale, which certainly hit the spot, after my uphill walk. It was too nice to sit inside though, so after a quick nose around to re-acquaint myself with the pub, I headed back outside and found a seat at one of the tables.

I sat there enjoying my nice hoppy beer, along with the general ambience of this quiet rural pub. Many of the customers seemed to be agricultural or forestry workers, who were no doubt celebrating the end of the working week - in the best way possible with a pint or two of refreshing beer. Unfortunately, I had to rush my pint, despite not really wanting to, so after drinking up I headed back down towards the church, at Coleman’s Hatch, and the bus stop. The latter is in an unfortunate position being directly on a bend which means passengers have to stand out, partially in the road just to make sure that the bus driver sees them.

Despite me being at the stop in good time, I had a 20-minute wait before the bus finally appeared. I was left thinking that I needn’t have rushed my pint, but also that I should have visited the Gents, before leaving. I was tempted to get off a couple of stops before Hartfield and call in at the Gallipot Inn, an attractive little pub overlooking the B2110, but after seeing the place described as a bit of a "gastropub", I decided to remain on the bus, and stick with my original plan. This was to have my last pint at the good old Dorset Arms, which lies in the tiny hamlet of Withyham. That way, I’d be a little closer to Tunbridge Wells.

The Dorset is a pub I've known for a long time, as for many years it was Harvey’s "show pub". However, it turns out the pub didn't actually belong to the brewery, but was only leased to them. The real owners are Buckhurst Estates, as referenced by the signs in front of the pub. To all intents and purposes, the Dorset might as well be a Harvey’s pub, because as far as cask is concerned, their Best Bitter, plus the occasional season offering, are the only beers on sale. I rushed in and promptly alarmed the barmaid by asking for directions to the toilet. Needs must and all that, but after feeling very relieved, I headed back to the bar and ordered a very good fine pint of Sussex Best.

There was quite a crowd in the bar, similar in nature to the drinkers at the Hatch Inn. So, builder types, and agricultural workers again, people who’d finished their shift for the day, or even the week, and enjoying a few well-earned pints. As with the Hatch, I took my beer outside and found a convenient spot on the terrace, just outside the entrance to the pub, where I could sit and watch the world go by. My contemplation's were interrupted by the appearance of a member of the kitchen staff who was taking a break, following a busy shift. Her appearance was quite fortuitous, as she gave me the Wi-Fi code for the pub. This was handy as with a non-existent 4G signal, I’d been unable to confirm the bus times back to Tunbridge Wells.

Not long after, it was time for me to go, and with another dodgy bus stop right opposite the pub, I had to stand out in the road again to flag the vehicle down. Fortunately, the bus driver saw me as he rounded the bed, so there was no need for any heroics on my part. It had been a good day out visiting these four fine, and largely unspoilt Sussex pubs, and it’s an exercise I wouldn’t mind repeating. Next time I shall head a bit further west, to take in Forest Row and East Grinstead. The 291 bus dropped me in the centre of Tunbridge Wells, and I headed towards the RVP for, yet another pee stop. When I emerged from the shopping centre, there was a No. 7 bus waiting at the stand, which took me back to Tonbridge, and home.