Breakfast catch-up, at the Chaser

After last Friday’s day out, and the drama of the journey home, here is a quick, stop-gap post before we return to the picturesque town of Topsham, and its legendary heritage pub, the Bridge Inn. The day before my trip, son Matthew and I enjoyed a bit of father-son bonding over a cooked, pub breakfast. 

With the not quite so recent now, arrival of a girlfriend in Matthew’s life, it’s been a long time since we spent some time together, and with Mrs PBT’s working, and the pair of us free that morning, what better way to spend it than in a local pub, enjoying a spot of breakfast. The first meal of the day seems to feature quite regularly amongst local pubs, and whilst this is largely confined to weekends, a small, but growing number of West Kent hostelries, are now offering a cooked breakfast on every day of the year.

One such establishment is the Chaser Inn, at Shipbourne, an attractive and well laid out village to the north of Tonbridge, situated at the base of the Greensand Ridge. The Chaser is owned by pub-group Whiting & Hammond, whose portfolio includes the Little Brown Jug in Chiddingstone Causeway, close to where I work. It is a large and impressive building with a tile hung exterior and a white veranda at the front. There is an attractive conservatory at the rear, plus a wood panelled and timber roofed dining area at the rear. If you haven’t twigged already, the Chaser is an unashamed, food-led pub with plenty of seating intermingled with unsegregated drinking areas and open fires.

Parking at the Chaser, has always been an issue, especially at weekends, and with the nearby common a popular spot for dog walkers, and people setting out on rambles, it can often be a case of no room at the inn. I knew the pub used to do breakfast on a Sunday morning, and a few years ago, before the advent of the pandemic, and Matthew and I had tried, and failed to get ourselves a breakfast there. We arrived rather too late that particular day, and whilst I wasn't expecting to be able to park at the pub itself, I thought there would be spaces on the large green opposite. Unfortunately, there was no such luck that day, as Shipbourne Common can be very popular.

Thursday was a bright, sunny and rather cold day, where the term “crisp” springs to mind, especially when there’s a frost on the ground, as there was that day. We were given a choice of several tables, but chose one which benefited from the fire, blazing away in the grate. I restricted myself to a couple of poached eggs on toast, but Matthew went steaming ahead, and ordered a full English. The bacon, sausage, tomato, and black pudding stacked up on his plate appeared to be cooked to perfection, and served on top of two slices of thick, nicely done toast, seemed the perfect combination.

My poached eggs were good as well, although I couldn’t help thinking that some nice crispy bacon would have gone down well with them too. As I’ve mentioned before, it is obvious from the taste of the bacon and the sausage that they were quality items. Locally sourced too, according to the menu, proof that it really does make a difference paying that little bit extra, and backing up what Mrs PBT's is always saying, about getting what you pay for!

We had a large pot of tea between us, which was sufficient to keep us going throughout breakfast, with several cups each. The pub dining area wasn’t packed, but then again, we’d arrived rather late, only narrowly beating the 11am cut-off time. 

With its bright and sunny outlook across the common, coupled with the chance to catch up on things, it was a good place to start the day. With a 6am start looming, for the following morning, this pleasant interlude acted as the perfect foil for what I knew would be a hectic end to the week.

 

Topsham for the day, by train

I enjoyed a brilliant day out in the attractive little Devon town of Topsham on Friday, with lots to write about, and lots to report on. In the end it was just me who made the journey, but as I’m fine with my own company, that wasn’t an issue. I was lucky with the weather as well, especially after the frosts, snow flurries and strong winds in the days preceding my trip, and was blessed by wall-to-wall sunshine, which certainly showed this charming settlement on the river Exe, at its best. The only fly in the ointment was being abandoned at Taunton, on the journey home, due to a broken-down train.

More on that later on, and for the time being, let’s concentrate on the positives. I had an early start to my journey, that was primarily down to me wishing to obtain the cheapest rail fare possible, which meant travelling outside of rush hour. So, leaving the comfort of home at just before 6am, in order to catch the 6.35am service to London Bridge, meant arriving at 10:35am. A little early for most of the town’s pubs, although as things turned out, my train was late pulling into Exeter, due to a “technical” issue, and it wasn’t until 11:15 that I finally arrived in Topsham. The problem with the train was a foretaste of what was to come later in the day, although I didn’t realise it at the time.

Trying to adopt a logical approach to Topsham’s pubs was skewed by a couple of points which revolved mainly around the old-fashioned opening hours of the Bridge Inn, the town’s time-warp, "heritage pub", and one of the prime reasons for my visit. This situation, when coupled with this unspoilt gem being some distance in the opposite direction from the main part of town, made attempts to arrange a logical tour of Topsham’s pubs rather difficult. Awkward, but not impossible, of course, and when combined with the unexpected, but very welcome, winter sunshine, it added to the delight of this attractive, east Devon town.

Topsham reminded me of Dartmouth – without the crowds, or more likely Salcombe, and there is something about the riverside setting of these south Devon towns that appeals perhaps to the inner seafarer that lies hidden deep within an island race, like us Brits. There is obviously money, in all these settlements, and whilst some might dismiss the townsfolk as all “pashminas and posh pooches”, visitors at least know what they are getting. From a personal perspective, I found Topsham to be an absolute delight, although given the unseasonably good weather, I was obviously seeing the town in its best light.

Readers might recall that my reasons for visiting the town in the first place were prompted by beer writer, Adrian Tierney-Jones’s, “A Pub For All Seasons”; a book that I read, earlier this year. The Bridge Inn is one of many pubs to feature in the book, but it becomes obvious upon reading it, that this characterful pub, on the edge of Topsham is one of the author’s favourite watering holes. Liking, what I had read, I knew I had to visit the place and experience it myself. You can read more about the Bridge in a later post but suffice to say that whilst differing from what I was expecting, it still ticked all the right boxes, and a few more besides.

Besides the Bridge, I visited the St Austell Brewery- owned Globe Inn, plus the Lighter – a Hall & Woodhouse owned pub, right on the Quayside. Somehow, I missed out on the Passage House Inn, which is tucked away, overlooking the estuary on the opposite edge of the town. This was despite having originally marked this Heavitree Brewery pub as well worth visiting - spoiler alert, Heavitree ceased brewing in 1970, and since then have been just a pub-owning company. 

If truth be known, it was my desire to get along to the Bridge Inn that led to the Passage House falling off my radar, although I’d also neglected to write it down on the checklist of pubs, locations, train times and other information I was carrying in the breast pocket of my shirt. With the benefit of that wonderful thing called “hindsight” I could easily have wandered back down into Topsham and grabbed a quick pint at the Passage House, before heading back up to the station for the train back to Exeter.

Despite this faux-pas, I still managed a pint back in Exeter, before my train home. I’d originally planned for a beer in the Exeter Brewery Taproom, which is just a short hop from Exeter St David’s station, before discovering that it didn’t open until 5pm. I had a couple of hours to kill before then (time to have visited the Passage House!), so having noticed a large sign for an equally large Wetherspoons outlet called the Imperial, I headed up the hill towards the pub.  This Grade II listed building began life as a private house, before becoming a hotel in 1923. Wetherspoons acquired the hotel in 1974, and then converted it into today’s cavernous and imposing pub.

It was Friday afternoon, and the Imperial was packed with a mainly student crowd, drawn from the neighbouring Exeter College, whose campus borders the grounds of the latter. I was reminded, to a certain extent, of my own student days, half a century ago, even though there were no “super pubs” in the mould of JDW back then.  The youngsters seemed happy to be celebrating the end of the week, and most likely the approaching end of the autumn term - are they still referred to as “Trimesters”? Despite the crowds there were still quite a few empty tables, so I grabbed one after first ordering a pint of Reel Ale from Teignworthy Brewery, who are based nearby, at Newton Abbot.

There would probably have been time for that quick pint at the Exeter Brewery Tap, but I’d run out of steam by then, so I wandered back down the hill and to the station. My train arrived on time and, unsurprisingly for a Friday evening, was packed. There were people (not all of them students), heading home for the weekend, or others possibly heading up to London for a short break in the capital. I had a reserved seat, so was fine, and settled down to enjoy the journey back to Paddington.  Unfortunately, things weren’t quite going to plan, and an announcement from the conductor, apologising for our relatively slow speed (I hadn’t really noticed), prepared us for the worst.

The train was running on just two of its five engines, and there was concern that even this might not be sustainable for the remainder of the journey. So, after stopping at Taunton, ostensibly to try and fix the fault, we were then asked to leave the train. With little in the way of instructions, as what to do next, I joined with a groups of passengers who’d been using their phones to monitor forthcoming train movements through Taunton station. A Cross-Country service, heading for Leeds would be stopping at Taunton soon, and would then be calling at Bristol. As there were regular GWR services from the latter city, heading toward the capital, I decided to join this group and squeezed onto that train.

“Squeezing” was the operative word, and the 45-minute ride brought back equally unpleasant memories of a similarly over-crowded Cross-Country rail journey I’d made whilst travelling to Macclesfield back in December 2023. When you’re packed in so tightly that you can hardly move, and you’re unable to remove your coat, or put down your bag, you start wondering how much longer until the train arrives at its next destination. Fortunately, the sense of humour of some of my fellow passengers, helped keep everyone going through what was an extremely unpleasant journey.

I escaped the cramped confines of the train at Bristol’s Temple Meads station, where I was able to empty my bladder, before finding the platform from where the next London-bound train would be leaving. Much to my amazement, there were still quite a few vacant seats on board. 

I don’t know how the other passengers on that ill-fated train from Exeter fared, but there had been a lot of talk about the increasing unreliability of the bi-modal train sets, used by GWR and a number of other train operating companies. These units are designed to run on both electrified and non- electrified rail tracks, which sounds good in principle, but perhaps not quite as good in practice.

I’ve dwelt on this issue longer than intended, and although uncomfortable, plus annoying, it didn’t detract from what overall, was an excellent day out. Earlier on Saturday, I submitted my “Delay – Repay” claim form to GWR and await to see the outcome of that. In the meantime, there’s more to come, including further details of the pubs I visited, including, of course, Topsham’s legendary Bridge Inn.

 

Three threads - not a beer, but a three-part post

There’s quite a bit of catching up to do following our recent voyage into the Atlantic ocean, although this current post might, if I pitch it correctly, cover a lot of ground. Depending on how it turns out we might find one post seamlessly leading straight into another, although there’s no guaranteed as to how things turn out. We shall have to wait and see, but in the meantime let’s kick off with a visit to Tonbridge’s premier alehouse, the Nelson Arms. I called in, sometime after 2pm on Sunday, ostensibly in search of Harvey’s November 5^th offering, Bonfire Boy. It turned out I was a session too late, and unsurprisingly this seasonal offering, had sold out. Plan B was to try the Green Hop beer from Gun Brewery, alongside the Porter, from Kent Brewery.  

Somewhat uncharacteristically, I ordered a half of each beer, rather than a pint, but in the case of the latter offering, I was glad that I did, as I’m sorry to report that it was one of the worst beers I have ever tasted. It wasn’t off, cloudy, or on the turn, but it was unbalanced, and dominated by a very astringent aftertaste, that was quite unpalatable and really unpleasant. I couldn’t even force myself to drink it, but with no suitable plant pots to pour the unwanted beer into, I handed it back to the barman and asked him to tip it away. It’s very unusual for me not to be able to finish a beer, but there was no point in struggling with a beer I couldn’t stomach. 

I must admit, I’ve never been a fan of Kent Brewery beers, but as they keep cropping up, particularly in the Nelson, I was starting to think, up until this incident, that it was me who was at fault, rather than the brewery. My replacement was a half pint of QPA, a session pale ale from Quantock Brewery. This beer was perfectly acceptable, as was the Green Hop Pale from Gun Brewery. 

The latter was the first Green Hop beer I’ve sampled so far this year, and this brings me on to the second thread of this post, namely from being everywhere one looked, 10 years ago, to being both rare and hard to find, in 2025. It’s probably no exaggeration to say that in these straightened times, an increasing number of breweries are finding them too difficult to brew – given the time restraints associated with GHA’s, and the lack of appreciation from the drinking public who never really got the point of them. Consequently, apart from in specialised outlets, these seasonal beers are increasingly difficult to come across.

How things have changed for Green Hop Ales since I first wrote about them in 2015, detailing exactly what they are, and what it is about them that makes them so unique.  The general public (but not readers of this, or other beer blogs), often wrongly believe that beer is brewed from hops whereas, as most of us know, beer is brewed from malted barley (sometimes with the addition of other cereals), with hops providing the “seasoning”. Hops impart tanginess, bitterness plus aroma, and they also act as a preservative in the finished product. That’s cleared up that urban myth, so now onto the more important stuff, such as the difference between normal and green hop beers.

Hops are normally dried, prior to being used in brewing, in order to preserve their important flavouring characteristics, and to ensure the harvested crop lasts throughout the year. Green Hop Beer though, is made with fresh, or “green”, hops that are used as soon as possible after harvesting and ideally within 12 hours of being picked. The resulting beers have a characteristic fresh taste because the green hops used contain oils and other aroma compounds that are normally lost when hops are dried. 

The very first Green Hop Ales (GHA’s), were of necessity experimental, as no one really knew how many hops needed to be added at the start of the brewing process, or how the finished product would turn out. Contrast this with normal dried hops where, from experience gained over many years, the brewer knows the correct weight of hops to be added to each brew, in order to achieve the desired result and a consistent end product.

Many of the original GHA’s were unbalanced and, to put it mildly, rather over-hopped! I remember some of these beers possessing a rich resinous taste, alongside an almost oily texture, which often meant you could actually feel the hops oils coating your tongue and the roof of your mouth. Over the years, brewers began making compensation for the resinous feel of their GHA’s, and if you take a look back at the many posts about Green Hop beers that I wrote over the years, you can almost feel these beers becoming less and less astringent, oily and overly bitter.

The inevitable result has been GHA’s that taste less and less like something special, and more and more mainstream. This was certainly my feeling when I knocked back that glass of Gun Green Hop Pale, and I believe it is the experience of many other beer drinkers who once raved over GHA’s but now view them as no different from “normal” beers. It’s almost as if the pendulum has moved full-swing, and has now, become an increasingly meaningless marketing exercise, along the lines of Beaujolais Nouveau. I imagine that brewers, and hop growers up and down the county, will be relieved at not being tied into the tight timetable that governs the production of green hop beers; a schedule that is constrained by having to keep their brewing operations on stand-by, whilst waiting for that phone call from the hop grower that says, “We’re harvesting, tomorrow.”

It was fun whilst it lasted, and those mid-September train rides over to Canterbury, sampling a range of mainly Kent GHA’s, in the warm, early autumn sunshine of the city’s Dane John Gardens, are now just a distant memory. If further proof was needed that the whole Green Hop thing has turned full circle, the Kent Green Hop Festival is no longer the countywide event that it was 10, or even 5 years ago. Instead, it has morphed into a series of local events, hosted either by the brewers themselves or, more usually, those pubs still banging the gong for GHA’s.

The final part of that mythical thread I was talking about at the beginning of this piece, concerns Untappd, and the fact that put simply, this beer ticking App does not lie. How do I know this? Well, the three beers that I sampled at the Nelson last Sunday were all beers that I’d sampled previously. This was despite me thinking they were new ones. I found this out when I attempted to score them on Untappd, only to find that I’d ticked them before. That includes Kent Brewery Porter, which I awarded a reasonable score of 3.75. Perhaps something went wrong with the latest brew, or perhaps I was just having an off day, but with reasonable scores for the other two beers I enjoyed that day, I suspect not.

As for the Nelson itself, the pub was doing a healthy trade in Sunday lunches, and it wasn’t until one group of diners left that I was able to get a seat. Good news then, and proof if your offering is good, people will keep coming back for more, but to really satisfy me, how about another cask of Harvey’s Bonfire Boy, or, in a few weeks’ time, a cask of the brewery’s legendary Christmas Ale.

The Somerhill - an update, of sorts

Just a quick update on the continuing speculation concerning the Somerhill pub in Pembury Road, Tonbridge. Prior to going on holiday, I wrote about renovation work taking place at the long-term closed pub, which has had quite a checkered history over the past decade or so. Following my return to the UK, further news has come to light, although those hungry for news, of for more details of what is going on at the pub, are likely to remain disappointed. 

We have a relatively recent, online news site, called the "Tonbridge Bean", that has started up in the town, and amongst many other items of local interest, I was banking on an update regarding the Somerhill. There wasn’t much, that I didn’t already know, and you can read what little there was, shortly. In the meantime, I signed up to the news site because, like many local residents, I’m interested in what is going on in our town.

So, according to Tonbridge Bean, the Somerhill is now being refurbished, with the new team aiming to bring a renewed energy and atmosphere to the venue. This was apparent after driving past the building, last week, when I couldn’t help but notice, the quite striking change in colour of the exterior of the pub. The rather drab-looking, cream exterior has been painted a rather vivid green, that is certainly eye-catching, although according to Mrs PBT’s knowledge of such matters, green is not a lucky colour!

Leaving such superstitions aside, I think the new colour scheme is a considerable improvement, and in the interest of bringing local pub stories to my readers I took a stroll down to the Somerhill this afternoon. Apart from the change in colour, there wasn’t much happening, but it was Saturday afternoon, a day plus a time, not normally favoured by the construction trade for carrying out building work. But what of the Somerhill’s future? The exact details of the reopening, and the new features are still under wraps, but according to Tonbridge Bean, the current work promises a fresh, modern interior while hopefully retaining some of the pub’s historic local character.

None of this confirms, or even counters the rumours I heard, back in the summer, but as they are just that – rumours, they will stay under wraps, until such time that the new owner(s) wishes to make them public. The Somerhill is only 15 minutes’ walk from Bailey Towers, and as I wrote just a few weeks ago, I look forward to seeing the pub reopening and to stepping through the doors of a refurbished and potentially repurposed pub.

A return to Crater Lakes, fifty years on

Back in 1971, as a fifth form schoolboy, I embarked on what was billed as an “educational cruise”. It was a two-week voyage from Southampton and back, taking in Lisbon, Lanzarote, Madeira and the Azores. Half a century later, Mrs PBT’s and I undertook virtually the same trip in reverse, although we didn’t call at Lanzarote. Our cruise ship, Queen Victoria, was a far cry from the rather basic, SS Nevassa, converted former troop ship, and whilst I’ve no complaints about swapping the dormitory accommodation on the latter, for the well-appointed stateroom on Queen Victoria, I can’t help feeling a touch of nostalgia, when I look back on a voyage that represented my first trip overseas.

So, what I’m going to write about here, is the visit we made to San Miguel, the largest of the nine habitable islands that make up the Azores. After four days at sea, it was good to be back on dry land. Due to bad weather, we’d been unable to dock the previous day at Praia da Vitoria, the principle town of Terceira, the second largest island in the Azores archipelago. Fortunately, our ship’s captain, aided by a local pilot, had no difficulty in docking at Ponta Delgada the capital of San Miguel, and having pre-booked a half-day excursion around the island, I was off the boat at the first available opportunity, leaving Mrs PBT’s to enjoy a leisurely morning afloat.

I don’t recall much from that 1971 cruise, either in general, or our visit to Ponta Delgada specifically, but one detail stood out in the form of a remarkable geological features unique to this island. Known as Sete Cidades in Portuguese, and referred to as the Crater Lakes in English, this feature consists of two lakes located within a collapsed volcanic cone, known as a "caldera". These bodies of water sit next to one another and exhibit two contrasting colours when viewed from the rim of the crater. The lake furthest away is a deep blue, whilst the nearer one has a notable greenish tint. This colour difference comes from the depths of the water they contain, as the blue lake reflects the sky due to its depth, whereas the shallower, green lake, gets its hue from the abundant vegetation growing both in and around it.

I was enthralled by my visit on that first cruise, half a century ago, and absolutely delighted to be coming back for a second one, 50 years later. Deep down, I always wanted to return, and now I had that chance, but would the weather hold, so that we could view the lakes in all their majesty. 

Our trip to the crater lakes was prefaced by a visit to the Jardim Botanico Antonia Borges, one of several Botanic Gardens that are scattered across the Azores. As in neighbouring Madeira, the warm subtropical climate of these Atlantic islands provides ideal growing conditions for a wide variety of plants, drawn from many different locations around the world. I won’t attempt to list any, let alone describe them, but the photos give some idea of the many exotic species, growing in these quiet oases of colour, on the edge of the city. But if you are a plant buff, or just someone who appreciates some peace and quiet, then these gardens are well worth a visit.

Upon leaving the gardens, we re-boarded the coach, and drove off in a north-westerly direction, past the island’s main airport, and up into the hills and high ground at the tip of San Miguel. The coach continued to climb steadily, and soon we were in an area of rich vegetation, surrounded by mist, but would the haze clear by the time we reached Crater Lakes? It did, of course, although not completely, but after parking the coach, our guide led us, on foot, to the viewing area, high above the lakes themselves. 

Fifty years on, I'm pleased to report that the lakes didn't disappoint, although if I’m honest, they seemed smaller in size, and less extensive, than I remember – a phenomenon that often seems the case, when we look back at memories from our younger days, but whatever the case we were lucky with the timing of our visit, as not long afterwards the low cloud, which had been threatening all morning, finally engulfed the mountain summit that forms the backdrop to the lakes.

The final item on the tour was a visit to one of the several pineapple plantations that are scattered around some of the more low-lying areas of the island. The one our guide took us to was situated right on the edge of Ponta Delgada, and there we learned all about pineapple cultivation. The fruits are grown under glass, in numerous, old fashioned looking greenhouses – the type with wooden frames and glass panes, held in with old fashioned putty. The panes are coated in white wash to prevent the interiors from becoming too warm.

Pineapple plants fruit once every two years naturally, but with man’s interference, the growing cycle can be reduced to 14-16 months. This is achieved by a combination of careful cultivation, plus stressing the plants by introducing smoke into their immediate growing area. This stresses them into flowering earlier, than they would if left to their own devices. 

It was all very interesting, as was the on-site café-cum-bar where I purchased a nice and refreshing, quarter of pineapple, conveniently cut into slices, plus a verywelcome latte. I also noticed bottles of pineapple beer on sale, but somehow that just didn't seem right. No doubt some extreme beer enthusiasts might have been tempted, but I didn’t notice any off my fellow cruisers buying the stuff. After the tour, the coach dropped us back at the cruise terminal where I met up with Mrs PBT's. We had a wander around the harbour area and found Baia dos Anjos (Angel's Bay), a convenient restaurant and bar overlooking the water, just across from where Queen Victoria was berthed.

We treated ourselves to a spot of lunch in the form of a burger each, along with some “skin-on-fries”. Also, on sale was Super Bock Stout, so I ordered a 1/2 litre glass of this excellent, dark beer. Many people will be familiar with standard Super Bock beer, but this was the first time that I'd seen their stout. 

Afterwards we found a souvenir shop, where Eileen stocked up with crisps, a couple of tea towels, plus the obligatory fridge magnet, before heading back on-board ship.  Later that day Queen Victoria sailed from Ponta Delgada towards the lovely island of Madeira; a real gem amongst these Portuguese owned Atlantic islands.