Fearsome Pub Landladies

  When I first started drinking, back in the early 1970's, the battle-axe landlady who ruled her pub with a rod of iron, and tolerated no nonsense from her customers, was quite common-place, but times have changed, and matriarchal women in charge of pubs, appear to be a dying breed. 

 I'm sure there are several reasons for the decline of the lone female in charge behind the bar, but looking back to my days at primary school (early 1960's), we had quite a few elderly (or so they seemed at the time), spinsters in charge of our classes. This was perhaps hardly surprising, coming just forty years or so after the carnage of the First World War, in which the flower of British manhood was butchered in the fields of Flanders, thereby condemning a whole generation of women to eternal spinsterhood. That there should be a large number of un-married women, of advancing years, running many of the nation's pubs during the 1960's and early 70's, therefore comes as no surprise. 

 I can recount quite a few tales concerning some of these legendary matriarchs, but will confine myself to just a couple. The first relates to an elderly lady called Norah, who ran a pub called the Rose, situated in the village of Willesborough - now long absorbed into the town of Ashford. Willesborough was the place where I spent 11 happy years of my childhood, before we moved further out into the country.

I first knew the pub as a child, having been taken there by my parents and maternal grandparents, when the latter made one of their regular visits from London. The Rose was unusual in that it was built into the side of a hill. This meant it was constructed on two levels, with a public bar at the higher level, fronting the road, and a saloon-cum-games room, plus children's room, at the lower level. This was reached by descending a series of steps from the road, and also the car park. I remember having my first sip of beer, from my grandfather's glass here, and absolutely hating it, but to continue with the story I became re-acquainted with the pub as an 18 year old, back in the early 1970's.

 I had just left school and together with a couple of friends, had taken a job at a local food processing factory whilst awaiting my A-level results. The work was dull and boring, but paid reasonably well, and we were placed on permanent late shift, which ran from 2pm until 10pm. Back in those days most Kent pubs closed at 10.30pm Monday to Thursday, with an extension to 11pm on Fridays and Saturdays. The Rose was the nearest pub to the factory, and if we left as soon as the shift ended, we just had time to hot foot it along to the Rose and get a couple of quick pints in before time was called. 

Presiding behind the bar was this fearsome old lady called Norah. She appeared to run the pub single-handed, although we later learned that one of her sons helped her with the cellar work and other heavy duties. We tended to frequent the lower saloon bar on our after work visits, primarily to engage in a game or two of bar-billiards, and despite our relatively young ages, Norah seemed quite glad of our custom. One friend though recounted a tale of how Norah had once barred his father from the pub, purely because she "didn't like the look of him", and we were soon to experience this side of Norah's character for ourselves. 

One weekend myself, plus the same friend called in at the Rose, but this time we decided to patronise the public bar. We were sitting chatting and enjoying our beer, when Norah suddenly enquired if we would like to play bar billiards? We replied that we were quite happy as we were when she suddenly became quite insistent that we go downstairs and have a game. She did explain herself after a while, informing us that there were a couple of boys using the table downstairs who, in her view, had been there long enough. We were to be her reason for getting them to leave. 

The next thing we heard was Norah disappearing down the steep wooden stairs to the lower bar and telling these couple of lads "There are two boys upstairs who want to play bar billiards. You two have been playing quite long enough, so kindly finish your game and let others have a turn!" Fearing some sort of trouble we delayed going down to the lower bar as long as possible, but when we did, we still got a scowl from the departing players who had done nothing wrong apart from perhaps outstaying their welcome in the games room. 

At the end of that summer I left home to go to university. When I returned the following summer, I had a different part-time job which was nowhere near the Rose. I therefore lost touch with the pub. I believe it became a "Hooden Horse" themed pub for a while, part of a small local chain that specialised in decent ale and food, but which ran into difficulties and was eventually bought out. I have carried out several on-line searches, all of which have revealed that the Rose is no longer a pub. Mind you, without its fearsome matriarchal landlady, it wouldn't really have been the same! 

The other pub I want to mention is the Ringlestone Inn, situated high on the North Downs, between Maidstone and Ashford. I first became acquainted with the Ringlestone when I bought a house in Maidstone in the late 1970's; a move that marked my return to Kent after an absence of some six or so years. It was an unspoilt pub that served a couple of beers direct from casks kept behind the bar. I can't remember the landlord's name, but it's a couple of his predecessors I want to write about here. 

Back in the 1960's the Ringlestone was kept by two elderly sisters; both spinsters, and with a reputation for their no nonsense approach when dealing with customers. They were reputed to have kept a shotgun behind the bar, and were said to have had no qualms in pointing this weapon at anyone they didn't like the look of. For two relatively elderly women, living on their own in such an isolated place, this was probably quite a sensible thing to do, although one wonders how many times they actually produced the gun. I also wonder whether the weapon was loaded? I would like to think not, but who knows? 

However the story passed into local legend, and was quite well known, even as far as East Kent where we lived at the time. My parents, neither of whom were regular pub goers, had both heard the story, and I remember them recounting it to my sister and I. I like the tale, and mourn the passing of such eccentric characters as these two feisty women, keeping the nation's bars in order. I am therefore, pleased to report two pubs runs by elderly ladies who, whilst perhaps not quite resorting to scaring customers off with firearms, still run their pubs with an old-fashioned, no-nonsense approach. The pubs in question are the Red Lion at Snargate, and the Queen's Arms at Cowden Pound. 

Both establishments are on CAMRA's National Inventory of unspoilt "Heritage" pubs, and you can read more about them by clicking on the above links. In the meantime, I would be interested to hear any similar tales of eccentric old battle-axes, either past or present, and the pubs they ran.

Larkins Porter

I finally got my hands on some Larkins Porter last night, and boy was it good! I attended a pre-AGM CAMRA Committee meeting, held at the excellent Royal Oak in Tunbridge Wells where, amongst some other interesting offerings, my friend and I spotted a hand pump with Larkins Porter on tap.

I ought to declare an interest here, as I am CAMRA Brewery Liaison Officer for Larkins, and am a fairly regular visitor to the brewery. Even so, whenever I call round to see owner Bob Dockerty, he never seems to have any Porter on tap. Bob brews this strong, dark, tasty beer twice a year, and then allows it to matures, in cask, for a minimum of six weeks before sending it out to trade. Traditionally the first batch is not released until Bonfire Night, meaning that the beer will have been brewed back in mid-September. This brew normally lasts through until Christmas, after which Bob normally brews a second batch. Very occasionally, he will produce a third batch, although this is quite a rare occurrence, as for some reason, strong dark ales sell well in the run-up to Christmas, but not so well afterwards.

So, just over a week from the beer's launch, it was good to enjoy a few glasses of it last night. Brewed from a grist that includes plenty of chocolate and crystal malts, Larkins Porter has a rich, full mouth feel, with plenty of bitterness to match the lush sweetness of the malts. At a strength of 5.2%, it is a beer for savouring, rather than swilling. Even so, I couldn't resist having three pints of it!

Larkins wasn't the only porter I enjoyed last night. Simon Lewis, owner of and brewer at the recently opened Royal Tunbridge Wells Brewery was also present at the meeting, and he brought along a bottle of his own new Porter for us to try. With an abv of 4.8%, it is similar in strength to Larkins, and also similar in colour. Tasted alongside Larkins, RTW is perhaps slightly more bitter. It was difficult to tell, as the latter was far livelier, being bottle-conditioned, but it did have an excellent aroma. It is a beer that I definitely look forward to sampling, when it appears on draught. I will also pick up a few bottles once they make an appearance in local shops.

CAMRA from a Personal Perspective

There has been much heated debate over the last week or so regarding CAMRA, and it's definition of Real Ale. Some have argued that the definition, whilst relevant when CAMRA was founded, is too narrow, whilst others have maintained it is the organisation's Unique Selling Point. I do not wish to get into the argument, especially as the likes of Pete Brown, Tandleman and Martyn Cornell have argued the case for and against far more eruditely than I could. The only thing I wish to add is whilst cask-ale is my drink of choice, other factors such as occasion, location etc, also play a part when it comes to deciding what to drink, and ultimately it's my taste buds that decide in the end.

For my part I have been member of CAMRA since the mid-1970's. This is an unbroken run as well, as my membership number is in the 3,000's. I have seen many changes during this time, including the un-precedented rise in the number of breweries that are operating today. I have been active at local branch level for much of the past 35 years, and during this time I have made many good friends and acquaintances. It is probably the social side that has led to me remaining actively involved in branch affairs for so long, and this aspect was reinforced at the weekend when I attended the Kent Regional Meeting (KRM), at Edenbridge.

KRM's are held every two months, with each branch taking a turn at hosting the meeting. As there are nine branches in the county this is not a particularly onerous task, but even so the host branch need to come up with a suitable venue, offering a reasonable selection of beers, and also provide a buffet lunch for the attendees. Most importantly, and for obvious reasons, the venue must be easily accessible by public transport; preferably rail. This time it was my local branch's turn to do the honours, and we chose the Old Eden, in the small town of Edenbridge, close to the border with Surrey.

Edenbridge is almost as far west as one can be in the county and still be in Kent, which meant a long journey for some delegates. In the end, whilst representatives from both Ashford and Dover branches turned up, members from Canterbury, Swale and Thanet branches did not attend. The next meeting is in Thanet though, which will mean a lengthy journey for West Kent members.

All in all 18 members made it to the meeting, including five of us from West Kent Branch. Although the Old Eden is a bit of a hike from the town's main station, it proved the perfect place for the meeting. There were five cask-ales on sale; two from Westerham Brewery (British Bulldog and 1965), two from Whitstable Brewery (Native Bitter and Oyster Stout), plus every one's favourite session beer, Harvey's Best. The characterful old building was warmed by three open fires, whilst the meeting itself took place in an upstairs galleried room, reached by an open staircase so that it did not feel completely cut of from the main part of the pub.

I sampled both the Whitstable beers plus the Westerham 1965, which was stunningly good. The meeting dragged on somewhat, despite the best efforts of our branch chairman, Iain, to keep things as brief as possible. There was a lot of business to discuss though, including reports on recently held branch beer festivals, as well as plans for next year's events. What is particularly encouraging is the news that there are now 17 independent breweries in the county, with reports of at least two more in the pipeline. Five of these breweries are within our branch area, which does ask the question, how can they all survive? The answer is that they all seem to be doing ok, which is encouraging news.

As well as some decent beer, we enjoyed an excellent buffet lunch. It was good to meet up with old friends from other branches again, especially people I hadn't seen for a while. The slightly worrying thing though is that none of us are getting any younger, and this I feel is the main problem facing CAMRA. There are already reports from other regions of branches having to give up on long-standing beer festivals, and other events, due to an increasingly aged membership, and lack of new blood to replace them.

Fortunately this is not yet the case in Kent, and we received reports of very successful festivals organised by Canterbury and Maidstone branches in particular. However, although the Campaign does have quite a large number of young members on its books it needs to find ways of getting them more actively involved within their respective branches. This is not easy, as we have found in our own branch where, out of a total of 450 members, we are lucky if we get an attendance that gets into double figures at our socials. I don't know what the answer is, as we have tried all sorts of approaches in order to try and tempt people along. One thing's for sure though, and that's without an influx of more active members, CAMRA will be in danger of dying on its feet, and that's something I don't think any of us would wish to see.

Wetherspoons Re-Visited

Despite their current beer festival, I'd been avoiding our local Wetherspoons for a number of reasons. These include too many kids running around the place, too many undesirables, dirty tables and not enough staff. Earlier this evening though, whilst on my way home from the Kent CAMRA Regional Meeting at Edenbridge, I decided to give the place another chance.

After a day of not immoderate beer drinking, I was motivated primarily by the need for something to eat, at a sensible price. Wetherspoons fitted the bill, and when I called in I found the place quite quiet, with plenty of empty tables. I grabbed one and headed for the bar. A placard advertising the "Manager's Special" caught my eye; several different varieties of curry. I opted for a chicken korma, and also ordered a pint of Cotleigh Ettaler. I handed over one of my CAMRA JDW vouchers, and the bill came to a very respectable £5.49.

The beer was good, although I'm not convinced about its description as a Bavarian-style lager ale! My chicken korma was also good, and arrived accompanied by pillau rice, narn bread, plus a couple of poppadoms. It wasn't the best Indian meal I've had, but at that price I couldn't grumble, and it certainly satisfied my hunger.

As for the Wetherspoons outlet itself, most of the usual semi-permanent undesirables were conspicuous by their absence, although there were still too many unsupervised children for my liking. I won't be in a huge hurry to return, but at least it proved if you catch the place at the right time then it isn't too bad.

Adnams Old

Just a quick post about a weekend visit to Norfolk that just seemed to fly by. First, apologies to Paul Garrard for not getting in touch and arranging to meet up. There just wasn't time I'm afraid Paul, as we travelled up on Saturday morning, and returned yesterday (Sunday) afternoon.

The main reason for our visit was to see my parents, who retired up to Norfolk about 18 years ago. They probably won't thank me for saying so, but they are getting on a bit, so rarely travel down to Kent to visit us. Anyway, it was good to see them. Life in Norfolk obviously suits them, and they were both looking hale and hearty.

With only the one night stop-over, there was little time for much beer drinking. However, son Matt and myself did manage to visit the George in Dereham on Saturday night. This Good Beer Guide-listed pub was opposite our hotel, so we didn't have far to stagger come closing time. The bonus, so far as I was concerned, was finding Adnams Old Ale on tap, and apart from a pint of the company's Broadside to finish up on, I stuck on the Old all evening.

It was just the right strength, and had just the right amount of dark, roast, luscious sweetness to make it the ideal drink for an evening that was decidedly on the chilly side. It is a long time since I last enjoyed a glass of this excellent ale, and it was good to be able to sample it close to its source.

The George itself was very pleasant as well. It wasn't full to bursting point, like on our previous visit back in February, but it had a nice mix of clientele, with no noisy juke-box or piped music to disturb the conversation. Even better, the beer was served in proper, stylised Adnams glasses (other brewers and pubs, please take note). All in all it made for a most enjoyable evening; the only disappointment being not being able to repeat the experience the following night!

British Lager - Part One

In a previous post about The Death of the English Pub, I described some of the problems facing the pub trade back in the early 1970's. These were highlighted in the book of the same title.

One subject that barely received a mention in the book, was that of British Lager. This is perhaps hardly surprising, as back then lager counted for about 2% of total beer sales. The only reference I recall was to Carlsberg and Tuborg Lagers, brewed under licence at the time by Watneys and Trumans respectively. Decrying their pitifully low strength, a reviewer from the Daily Mirror had made the comment "We think these two lagers more suitable for a maiden aunt of moderate habits than a man who uses his muscles." That comment sums up the main problem with British Lager 40 years ago; namely it was as weak as gnat's piss!

I can remember when lager as a drink first entered my consciousness. I was aged 17, and was with a group of school friends on a night out in Folkestone. With the exception of a friend of a friend, who had joined us for the evening, none of us was legally old enough to be drinking in a pub, but that didn't seem to really matter back then. I can't recall the name of the pub, and I don't think it was anything special, but it was in the centre of Folkestone, and I remember the aforementioned "friend of a friend" ordering a pint of "lager and lime". (By the way, I never got to know the real name of this character. He was referred to as "Dinky Dalton", and as he seemed a bit effeminate I didn't like to enquire further!).

At first I thought this was a soft drink, and I wondered why Mr Dalton, who was trying hard to project an image of sophistication, was drinking such a drink. I was vaguely aware from childhood of a concoction called Limeade and Lager, but this was something different). I have to say the drink looked appealing in the glass, even if it was only Harp Lager! For a start it came in its own stylized glass, and second being chilled, and with the beads of condensation running down the side of the glass, it was worth ordering one myself. Before doing so I asked Mr Dalton what the purpose of the lime was? His reply was it took the edge off the beer. I skipped on the lime, but found the beer itself totally unremarkable (perhaps it would have been better with a shot of lime in it!). This lack of any real endearing characteristics was hardly surprising as, apart from the might of the Guinness empire behind it, Harp never really had much going for it. (You could say a real triumph of style over substance!)

Harp was probably the most widely distributed British-brewed lager during the early 1970's, but it was closely followed by Heineken, which was stocked by Whitbread in most of their pubs. However, with an abv of only 3.4%, it was nothing like its continental namesake, which is brewed to a respectable strength of 5%. The story goes that when Colonel Whitbread approached Freddy Heineken when he was first looking for a continental-style beer to sell in his company's pubs. However, he was convinced that a five percent strength beer would be too strong for British drinkers, used to supping milds, bitters and light ales most of which were brewed to a strength about 3.5%. He managed to persuade Freddy and the rest of the Heineken management to allow Whitbread to brew a much weaker version of their famous beer under licence, which is how the ultra-weak Heineken came to be sold in the UK.

Like I said earlier, not only was this British-brewed lager as weak as gnat's piss, but it tasted pretty much like it as well! There is a good reason why classic European Pilsner-style lagers are brewed at around 5%; they need sufficient body not only to counter the high hopping rate, but also to allow the necessary maturation period to take place. As I write I am drinking a bottle of Pilsner Urquell; it may have lost some of it's character over the last couple of decades, but it's still a classic beer light years removed from such horrors as Harp, Whitbread-brewed Heineken, Skol etc.

Other lagers popular at this time were the aforementioned UK-brewed versions of Carlsberg and Tuborg, plus that old favourite Carling Black Label. Now I'm no fan of Carling, but it is one British lager that does seem to have stood the pace of time and is a rare survivor from 40 years or so ago. It's slightly higher strength of 4% may have helped it's longevity, as well as some clever advertising campaigns.

As the seventies unfolded, many of Britain's independent brewers decided to jump on the band waggon and started producing their own lagers. Most were instantly forgettable; I remember "lagers" such as Einhorn from Robinsons, Regal (a palindrome of lager) from Holts, Grunhalle Lager from Greenall Whitley and Brock Lager from Hall & Woodhouse to name but a few. All pretty dire, and all best forgotten! The story was that most of these ersatz lagers were brewed using an infusion mash, rather than the traditional continental decoction mash, were bittered using UK hops, and only received the minimum amount of maturation (lagering); nothing new there then, as many of today's international brands, also receive little or no proper lagering either!

Despite it's lack of taste, and total absence of any real pedigree, lager sales went through the roof during the later half of the 1970's and into the 80's. In the next part of "British Lager", I'll be looking at the rise of Premium Lagers, and the so-called international brands.

A Walk in the Country

I spent a most enjoyable day out walking in the pleasant Kent countryside today, in the company of two friends and fellow CAMRA members. We walked out to a pub a little off the beaten track, and one that we don't often get the chance to visit. The pub in question was the Chafford Arms, in the small village of Fordcombe, roughly four miles from Tunbridge Wells.

It was from the latter town that we set off, shortly before midday, in the bright late October sunshine. Our walk took us up over Tunbridge Wells Common and then on into the suburb of Rusthall. From here our route took us across some undulating country, part patchwork fields and part woodland. We reached the pub around half one, having built up a bit of a thirst and also quite an appetite.

Things were somewhat different to when I last visited the Chafford. I'd walked there on that occasion, but that was back in June as part of the Wealdway Walk, and temperatures were in the low 30's. This time the weather was much more pleasant for walking, which probably explains why we made such good time in getting there.

The Chafford is unusual these days in still possessing a public bar. This was a bonus for walkers like ourselves, as it meant there was no need to remove our boots, (they weren't that muddy, but in a carpeted bar we would have felt obliged to take them off). The bar was fairly full, but most of the other diners were in the adjacent saloon, allowing us to grab a table without any difficulty. For drinks we had the choice of Larkins Traditional or Harvey's Best. My companions tried both, but I stuck to the low gravity (3.4%), but full-flavoured Larkin's; surely the ideal lunchtime pint?

We enjoyed the home-cooked food served up in the pub; my fish pie being especially tasty and filling, but the main purpose of our visit was to present landlord Paul and landlady Jackie with their Licensee's Pack informing them that the Chafford Arms has been selected for, and is in, the 2011 Good Beer Guide. The couple were obviously pleased with the pub's inclusion, something that is in my opinion, well deserved.

We took a slightly longer route back to Tunbridge Wells; arriving in Rusthall just as the heavens opened. We decided there was time for a quick farewell pint, so headed down to the Pantiles area of town. We called in at the Sussex Arms where we were pleased to see Skinner's Betty Stoggs on sale. It made a good pint to end on before catching the train back to Tonbridge and home.