Classic, Basic & Unspoilt, No. 2 - The Mounted Rifleman, Luddenham

Second in the series of Classic, Basic and Unspoilt pubs is the Mounted Rifleman at Luddenham, near Faversham. If anything this classic country pub was even more unspoilt and basic than the Black Bull at Newchurch,  and certainly much more a "parlour pub" than the latter ever was. Unfortunately, I only had the pleasure of visiting it on a couple of occasions, both during the early 1980's. 

The thing that made Mounted Rifleman so special was the fact that it didn't even have a bar! Instead each pint was brought up from the cellar, on a tray, by the landlord. The pub's single draught beer was Fremlins Bitter, drawn straight from the cask, and very nice it tasted too. Even more unusual was that the bottled beers, spirits, mixers and soft drinks were all kept in the cellar as well, almost as though the proprietor didn't want customers to actually see the drinks on offer!

Having only been to the pub twice, and those occasions are both 30 years ago, I am unable to recollect much about it. I remember entering the pub from the rear, almost as though one was walking through the landlord's garden, but I am hard pushed to write anything about the pub's interior, apart from the fact it was basic and simply furnished. I do recall learning in the mid 1980's that the landlord had dropped dead following a heart attack and registering my surprise at this bearing in mind the number of times he must have walked up and down the cellar steps of an evening. Possibly it was too much repetitive exercise that was responsible but, whatever the reason I do know that his brother took over the running of the pub for a while.

Whilst doing some research for this post I found a couple of pictures, plus a short write-up in a book titled "The Village Pub". Written by veteran beer writer, Roger Protz and illustrated with some very good photographs by Homer Sykes, the book was published in 1992, which was getting on for ten years after my visits. Unfortunately there are no shots of the public rooms, but there is a splendid one of landlord, Bob Jarrett starting his journey back up the cellar steps with a tray full of beer. (The forenamed must have been the brother of the landlord that I knew.)

I'm not certain exactly when the Mounted Rifleman closed, but like the previous pub in this series, the Black Bull at Newchurch, the closure took place some time between the publication of the 1993 and the 1999 CAMRA Guides to Kent Pubs. During this time the pub was put up for sale, and was eventually sold without a license, as a private house. This was the sad loss of yet another "national treasure", as well as a great blow to the pub's own loyal band of devotees. The Mounted Rifleman had absolutely no frills about it and and been in the same family for several generations. It was particularly sad to see it close.

The photo of the landlord ascending the cellar steps, referred to above is copyrighted by its creator, Homer Sykes. If you want to see what the pub was like back then, carry out a search on Google Images and you will find Mr Sykes website, displaying the photograph.

Keeping Out the Cold

On what must have been the coldest night of the year on Wednesday, the sight of Harvey's Christmas Ale on the bar of the Two Brewers in Hadlow was certainly a welcome one! Six of us had travelled out there by bus for a pre-arranged West Kent CAMRA branch social.

The Two Brewers is a Harvey's tied pub; one of only a handful in Kent. Since the brewery acquired it in 2005, and thankfully changed its name from the Fiddling Monkey (often referred to as the "Piddling Monkey"), the pub has seen a  succession of different licensees. Part of the problem has been the relatively small garden and car park at the pub, as the previous owners sold off much of the land at the rear for housing. However, under its new licensees, the Two Brewers now appears much more settled, and we were given a warm reception from  our hosts last night.

On sale alongside the Christmas Ale were Mild, Hadlow Bitter, Best Bitter and, my personal winter favourite, Harvey's Old Ale. Owing to the vagaries of public transport during the evening, we arrived early but also left early, but not before a few pints of Old plus a half of Christmas Ale to finish up on. The latter is definitely a desert island beer, although whether one would wish to drink it on a hot tropical island is open to debate. Last night though it was the perfect balance of a strong dark bitter-sweet ale, satisfying and warming, but obviously a beer to be treated with respect. The pub was selling it at £2.50 per half pint, which for a beer of this strength and character is good value.

Back in Tonbridge, a couple of us nipped in to the Humphrey Bean, to see what our local JDW had on offer. Resisting the temptation to try the Thornbridge Jaipur, not a good idea with work the next morning, I settled for the Adnams Gunhill. Not quite as rich as the Harvey's Old, but still a very drinkable 4.0% winter beer. My friend opted for a dark beer from Pilgrim Brewery, who's name escapes me.

Despite plenty of layers, combined with hat, scarf and gloves, it was still freezing on the walk home. However, it had certainly been worth venturing out on such a night and making the journey over to Hadlow.

The bottle label above shows the abv of Christmas Ale as being 8.1%. Harvey's have since reduced the strength slightly to 7.5%. Presumably this is to avoid the beer falling into the higher tax band, brought in as a "knee-jerk" reaction to restrict the sales of "super-strength" lagers (Carlsberg Special Brew et al.).

A Walk in the Park

The other Sunday, son Matthew and I took a train ride up to London for a look round, and also to sample a few of the capital's beery delights. There were a few places we wanted to visit, so I mapped out a rough itinerary beforehand, which seemed to work quite well.

First stop was London Bridge, where we changed platforms and caught a more local train out to Blackheath. Neither of us had been there before, although I had driven across the top end of the heath, at Shooter's Hill, several times in the past. There was a farmer's market in full swing when we stepped outside the station, but ignoring the festive goodies that were on offer we headed straight into Blackheath village for the first port of call on our programme. This was Zero Degrees, a brew-pub with a long and impressive pedigree. We had actually walked right past the place at first, admittedly on the opposite side of the road, but with the sun in our eyes, this was perhaps excusable.

I had been wanting to visit Zero Degrees for some time, so was pleased to have finally made it. The pub wasn't quite what I'd expected, being modern, minimalist and very functional. Nevertheless we both found it very much to our taste, with pleasant knowledgeable staff and, most importantly, good and keenly priced beer. I tried  the Pilsner and the Black Lager, and enjoyed them both. My son, being a lager drinker normally, stuck to the Pilsner. Perhaps because I had enquired earlier about the pub's seasonal brew, one of the staff came over and gave us,  a  half pint taster of their current 6.5%  seasonal ale. I didn't make a note of the name, but it was obviously a Christmas beer, as the word Rudolph featured in its name. Being a yuletide ale it was spiced with cinnamon, which meant it wasn't to my taste (cinnamon is best reserved for cakes, not ale!). It was a nice gesture though, and we were sorry in a way to be leaving. However, we had a busy itinerary to get through and a long walk to our next stop.

Before moving on, a word or two about Zero Degrees' stylish and modern setup. The company brews its beers using a 9 barrel semi-automated German-built plant, housed at the rear of the pub. All the beer is delivered fresh from polythene-lined serving tanks by an air pressure system that operates without the use of any additional gas. As the beers are all unfiltered and unpasteurised, they are, in effect real ales; something which is not immediately apparent to drinkers used to seeing their beer dispensed from a traditional hand pump. As well as the aforementioned Pilsner and Black Lager, the company produces a Pale Ale and a Wheat Ale, plus seasonal brews, as appropriate.


Leaving the pub we crossed the common followed by the busy Shooters Hill Road, and made our way into Greenwich Park. Although it was a cold day the sun was shining which made for a pleasant walk. There were also some spectacular views of the skyscrapers of Canary Wharf, just across the Thames. The sunshine  had brought lots of people out into the park, enjoying the fresh air and a bit of exercise. After skirting the Royal Observatory, perched up on its hill, we made our way down towards the river, and our next port of call -  the Old Brewery, belonging to Meantime of Greenwich. This is housed in the precincts of the Old Royal Naval College, overlooking the Thames. I was reading in Des de Moor's excellent CAMRA Guide to London's Best Beer, Pubs and Bars that Meantime are now the capital's second largest independent brewer, after Fullers. They've certainly come a long way since starting up back in 2000, and deservedly so, as founder, owner and head brewer Alastair Hook has not been afraid to plough his own furrow.

Inside the impressive Old Naval College, Meantime operate a restaurant and a bar. The former seemed a bit too modern and functional for our liking, so we made our way into the adjoining, but much smaller bar. As one would expect, there was a wide selection of Meantime beers on offer from a bank of keg taps, plus Dark Star Hophead dispensed from a traditional hand pump. I opted for the Oktoberfest, a proper, traditional Maerzen-style beer, whilst Matthew went for the London Lager.

As it was rather crowded in the bar, we decided to brave the elements and join the handful of hardy souls sitting out in the adjoining beer garden. Wrapped up against the cold it was quite pleasant being out in the fresh air, enjoying a bit of winter sunshine, but as the sun started to sink slowly behind the line of the buildings the temperature really started to drop.

It was time to  move on, this time for a spot of shopping and a bite to eat. leaving Meantime we continued down to the bank of the Thames, passing the newly restored Cutty Sark on the way. After a look at the river we then descended the spiral staircase that leads to the pedestrian tunnel under the river. Built in Victorian times the tunnel serves as a useful short cut across to the Isle of  Dogs, and for us easy access to the Docklands Light Railway at Island Gardens. A short train ride saw us alighting at Canary Wharf where Matthew assured me there was a substantial shopping complex that included one of the largest  branches of Waitrose around.

He was right; deep in the bowels below the tower blocks of Canary Wharf  there certainly is a fair-sized shopping centre, consisting of several inter-linked areas on a number of different levels. Also, it was surprisingly busy, but then when one looks at the surrounding area there are now a significant number of dwellings (ok posh apartments) in this former dockland area. We limited our purchases to a sandwich and a drink from the large Waitrose at one end of the complex, before  jumping onto the Underground into Central London.

We had one final pub to visit, a German-owned pub which trades under the name of Zeitgeist.The pub itself is signed outside as the Jolly Gardeners, its former name, and is situated a short hop from Vauxhall Station on the south bank of the Thames. It was therefore Jubilee Line to Waterloo and then one stop overground to Vauxhall. After a walk along the Albert Embankment, followed by a right turn under the railway viaduct, we arrived at our destination, glad to get out of the cold.

Unlike some German-themed establishments in London, Zeitgeist leaves aside the Bavarian cliches of Dirndl's, Lederhosen and Mass Krugs, and instead concentrates on serving a wide range of German beers (draught as well as bottled) to an appreciative clientele of expats and students, in stylish surroundings. A Bundesliga football match was being screened on the large-screen TV, but with the sound turned down it was not at all intrusive. Beer-wise we noticed taps for the likes of Loewenbraeu, Paulaner, Weihenstephan and Krombacher, but I think there were a couple more. I went for a Helles from Krombacher, whilst Matthew opted for the same from Loewenbraeu.

We up sat at one of the tall tables, enjoying the atmosphere and watching the pub start to fill. The German food selection looked good, but we didn't give in to temptation as we knew there would be a dinner waiting for us at home. Not wanting to be too late back for our grub was the deciding factor in not staying for another beer either, so after drinking up, we made our way back, on foot, to Charing Cross and the train home.

Despite my being a CAMRA member of many years standing, no cask beer was drunk on this trip This wasn't a deliberate decision, but just the way things worked out. If readers will pardon my take on a particularly over-used cliche, "sometimes it pays to DRINK outside the box"! And as for the pubs we visited, I will certainly be call back at Zeitgeist and Zero Degrees the next time I am in the area.

A Cold Wet Day in Canterbury

On Friday I took the day off work and caught the train over to the cathedral city of Canterbury with my friend Don.We had decided on Canterbury as an interesting place to visit, and to drink in, after passing through there back in the summer, en route to and from the Kent Beer Festival. I of course know the city well as it was a regular place to visit and shop in during my teenage years. Back then my  family lived in a small village, called Brook, close to Ashford, but even closer to the much larger village of Wye. Wye is first stop on the Ashford to Canterbury railway line, so my friends and I would often cycle over there, leave our bikes at the station and catch the train into Canterbury.

This visit had involved a rather longer train journey, but there is still a half-hourly service from Tonbridge, where I live, through to Canterbury; one just has to remember to board the correct portion of the train, as it divides at Ashford. We could not have picked a worse day, weather-wise for our trip though, as not only was it raining, but there was a bitingly cold north-westerly wind blowing. Still our hour long journey was in the comfort and warmth of the train, and we had high hopes that the weather would brighten up as the day wore on.


How wrong we were! Alighting at Canterbury West Station we were greeted by the same biting wind and driving rain we thought we had left behind in Tonbridge. There was only one thing for it, find a pub to shelter in and warm up again. The Westgate Inn is the smaller of the two Wetherspoons outlets in Canterbury. Situated, as its name suggests, in the shadow of the city's historic West Gate, it provided some welcome relief, and a cup of hot coffee, from the worst of the elements outside. Divided up into a series of interlinked, but almost separate drinking areas, the Westgate seemed a very pleasant old pub. Being in coffee drinking mode I didn't really pay that much attention to the beers on sale, but I did notice a fair few Christmas Ales on offer.

Leaving the warmth of the Westgate behind, we headed into the centre of Canterbury, passing through the imposing stone-built towers of the West Gate itself. We passed a number of pubs en route, including the Black Griffin and the Cricketers, before calling in at the tourist information centre to pick up a map, and some additional visitor information. Turning left, away from the High Street and towards the cathedral, brought us to a small square in front of the cathedral gate, and to the  second pub on our itinerary.

The Old Buttermarket is a Nicholson's house, an upmarket chain of historic pubs, with a good selection of ales to match. Entering the welcoming warmth of the Old Buttermarket we perused the ales on offer which, alongside Adnams Broadside, included a couple of Christmas ales specially produced for the group. Our eyes settled though on Navigation Pale Ale, a 3.9% offering from the Navigation Brewery of Nottingham. This well-hopped, straw-coloured beer was just right for the start of a session, but tempted as we were to linger in this comfortable and pleasantly decorated pub we decided to move on.

A work colleague had told me there was a Christmas Market held in Canterbury, but after trying, unsuccessfully to locate it, we gave up and sought again the warmth and sanctuary of a pub. The pub in question this time was the City Arms, in Butchery Lane, again in the shadow of the cathedral. This pub holds a particular affection for me in so much as it was the place where I attended my first ever CAMRA meeting back in the summer of 1974.

There has been a lot of changes since then, including the disappearance of the rare and historic "snob-screens". These changes though were down to a disastrous fire in 2001 that badly damaged the pub. This is ironic considering the City Arms survived the wartime bombing intact, when the properties on the opposite side of the street were destroyed. Today the City Arms remains a traditional pub with a modern feel to it. Of particular interest to the beer lover is the fact that the pub is one of three outlets owned and operated by Stoneset Inns, and serves beers from Canterbury Brewers, who are based in the Foundry, on the other side of the High Street.

We ordered a pint each of their Canterbury Haka, a pleasantly bitter 4.1% ale brewed using New Zealand hops, and grabbed ourselves a table. Also on the bar were Foundry Torpedo, a 4.5% amber ale, sampled earlier in the year at the Foundry itself, plus the 5.8% Street Light Porter. The latter was the next beer we tried, but not before we had ordered ourselves something to eat. I went for the homemade chicken and mushroom pie, whilst Don opted for the fish and chips. Both meals were tasty, well-presented and reasonably priced.

There was a pleasant buzz to the City Arms with a good mix of customers, so we were sorry when the time came to leave. We had decided to make our way past the cathedral and the historic King's School towards the St Radigund's area of the city. The wind and rain had not relented so, despite some interesting looking shops en route we didn't hang about. On the way we passed the Parrot, reputed to be the oldest pub in Canterbury, but not under that name. Although the pub looked inviting and comfortable from the outside we decided not to venture in as it is tied to Shepherd Neame. Neither of us are fans of Shep's beer; a pity really as the company own some fine traditional pubs, as was all too evident from the look of the Parrot's interior.

Instead we pressed on to the Dolphin, described by one guide as a "gastro pub". Despite this the pub was warm and welcoming and with a choice of Taylors Landlord, Hopdaemon Skrimshander alongside the dreaded Doombar, provided a welcome interlude from the conditions outside. I ordered the Landlord, whilst Dom went for the Skrimshander and I think he made the better choice. The Landlord wasn't off or anything, in fact it appeared bright and well-conditioned. To me though it just seemed a trifle on the bland side, and lacking in character; it certainly wasn't how I remember this legendary beer.

From the Dolphin, we headed back towards the city centre, stopping on the way for a look around the cathedral precincts. We had discovered earlier that these were out of bounds until 4.30pm, as they were included as part of the extortionate £9.50 entrance fee to the cathedral itself. We didn't linger too long though, and exiting through the impressive medieval gateway we headed down Burgate towards the equally ancient city walls. Our destination was the Thomas Ingoldsby, the larger of Canterbury's two JDW outlets, but also the least characterful. Converted from a former furniture store the pub is named in honour of Richard Harris Barham, who was born in 1788, at 61 Burgate, just across the road from the pub. Using the pen name Thomas Ingoldsby, he wrote "The Ingoldsby Legends", which first appeared, in 1840, in a periodical. .It is a large open plan pub, and being early Friday evening was starting to fill up with a largely student clientele,  (this was hardly surprising seeing as Canterbury has two universities). It seemed a bit early to be drinking shots and pitchers of strange coloured fruity concoctions, but then what does a bloke like me in his late 50's know about da yoof of today?

So far as beer was concerned, there was a range of so-called Christmas ales on offer, none of which appealed to me, but after a  taster, Don decided to go for a pint of JW Lees Plum Pudding (too plummy for me, but then I suppose that's the point of the beer). I opted for a local brew in the form of Wantsum 1381; a pale and well-hopped 3.8% beer, from Wantsum Brewery  who are based at Hersden, a few miles outside of Canterbury.

Time was marching on and we had one further pub to visit. The Unicorn is situated conveniently  close to the station, so provided the ideal place for a farewell drink to the city. It was heaving inside but we managed to get served and also find a vacant table. I only remember two of the beers on sale, namely Dominator - a 5.1% strong beer from Hopdaemon, plus our final selection of the evening Hooky, which appears to be the new name for Hook Norton Bitter. At just 3.5% abv,  this pale coloured beer is full of flavour, and was a good pint to finish on. We were just on our way out when we bumped into Gill and Gerry Keay, leading members of CAMRA's Canterbury branch, who were sitting the other side of the central fire place from us. We stopped for a brief chat, and to give them some feedback about the pubs we'd visited that day, before saying goodbye and completing the short walk back to the station.

There was one final place to visit though before catching the train home. Right next to Canterbury West station is The Goods Shed. Opened in 2002 and, as its name suggests, housed in former railway premises, The Goods Shed is a covered farmers market which is open daily. It also houses an onsite restaurant which makes use of the local market produce. It has evolved to include a ‘food hall’ which includes a butchers, cheese makers, fishmonger, bakers and The Beer Shop. The latter claims to offer the largest number of British bottled beers in the South East of England,  including London. Customers can buy beers to take home throughout the day or enjoy table service in the historic surroundings of the Goods Shed from 6pm onwards.

The Beer Shop is THE place for the serious beer connoisseur, with a wide range of craft beers from both Britain and around the globe. With a massive range of different styles, barrel-aged bottlings and all manner of rare and hard to get brews, this place really is beer geek paradise! The only trouble was knowing where to start. I limited my purchases to a 7.1% , Four Hop India Pale Ale and a 7.2%, London 1890 Export Stout, both from The Kernel Brewery, an outfit I have read a lot about, but not had the pleasure of sampling yet. I also bought a bottle of No.1 Connoisseur's Choice Quadrupel, from Sharp's Brewery. These should all make interesting drinking over Christmas!

Our train home was slightly delayed, but it didn't detract from an excellent day out, and after an hour's journey we arrived back to a cold, windy but by now dry Tonbridge. Ironically the next day's weather was dry and bright, but then I suppose you can't win them all.

Not much in the way of photo's I'm afraid; the weather was just too appalling for standing around outside taking pictures!

Classic, Basic & Unspoilt, No.1 - The Black Bull Newchurch

As promised earlier, here is the first of a series of follow-ups about Classic, Basic and Unspoilt pubs. I was tempted to write this particular piece following a comment by David of Little Omenden Farm and Nursery, on my article about Parlour Pubs. It seems we both knew a wonderfully unspoilt pub down on Romney Marsh; a pub called the Black Bull, in the tiny, picturesque village of Newchurch. Sadly the pub is now closed.

Romney Marsh is a triangular-shaped area of land that just out into the English Channel. It straddles the counties of Kent and East Sussex, but the majority of it lies within Kent. In Roman times this whole area was under the waves, but over the centuries it has gradually been reclaimed from the sea, by a combination of human effort, the natural silting up of rivers, plus the odd major storm. Today it consists of a flat land of wide open spaces, drained by a system of ditches and dykes, where both arable and sheep farming are carried out. It contains a mix of isolated farms, plus a handful of attractive villages, complete with ancient churches and, of course, the odd historic inn. It is an area where smuggling was once rife; the numerous watercourses and narrow winding lanes providing an ideal cover for illicit activities. Even today, despite the opening of a new road right across it, the Marsh is still an isolated, and at times, desolate place, and although I don’t get to visit it as often as I would like, it remains as one of my favourite parts of the South-East.

Newchurch is a typical Romney Marsh village; and its local hostelry, the Black Bull, was the pub of ones dreams. Sited on a bend on the edge of the village, the Black Bull was best visited on a cold winter's night. With a biting easterly wind blowing across the flat and bleak marshland, the pub offered warmth and shelter from the elements. It was also a smashing unspoilt country pub in its own right, dating back to the reign of Queen Anne.

I first became acquainted with the Black Bull in my late teens, when I visited it with a school friend. During the summers of 1972 and 1973, we had made a point of exploring the pubs of Romney Marsh on our motorbikes. During those care-free times we would call in at a pub to enjoy a game of darts together with a glass or two of bitter, and the Black Bull became one of our regular stops.

Back then the pub was owned by Whitbread, but during the 1970's it was sold to Shepherd Neame. By then I was in my mid twenties, and had returned to live in Kent after four years away at university in Salford. Although it was a bit of a drive to the Black Bull, I would make a point of taking friends there to in order to introduce them to what I considered as one of the finest examples left of a traditional country inn.

The Black Bull had two rooms, leading off from a central corridor. To the left, was a plainly decorated room with a bare stone floor and simple furnishings. Further down the corridor, and leading off to the right, was the larger of the two rooms. It was here that the bar was situated, and behind the counter, on a back shelf, were kept several firkins of beer, each resplendent with its own brightly-coloured cask jacket. The room was carpeted, and furnished in the style of an old fashioned sitting room, with armchairs, settees and braided lamp shades. It was a wonderfully relaxed place in which to spend an evening, and reminded me of a similarly furnished pub (alas long since closed) called the George, in the village of Wye, close to my childhood home.

Sometime in the late 1980's the Black Bull was "disposed of" by Shepherd Neame and I began to hear dark rumours that it had been knocked about. I never had the chance to discover this for myself, as my last visit  there took place in 1985, when it was still owned by Sheps. I had just re-married, and my wife and I were spending our honeymoon in the picturesque town of Rye. During our stay we decided to call in at the Black Bull for lunch. Unfortunately, my new wife did not view the pub in its best light and was not impressed. It was evident during our visit that the saloon bar, in particular, was in need of a jolly good clean, and the pub in general certainly gave the impression of being very tired and run down.

I am not exactly certain when "last orders" were called at the Black Bull for the last time. The pub is listed in CAMRA’s Real Ale Drinker’s Guide to Kent Pubs, published in 1993, but by the time the 10^th, and last countywide Kent guide was published in 1999, it had closed and become a private residence. A clue as to why it closed can be gleaned from the description in the 1993 guide: “Tucked away, this one-bar pub is pleasantly quiet”. Too quiet in fact! Shep’s were obviously unable to make a go of the pub. For a start there was no car park, with patrons having to leave their vehicles on the grass verge of a rather narrow and winding road. Newchurch itself is tiny with few chimney pots and almost certainly unable to provide sufficient trade to have kept the pub viable. The Black Bull therefore must remain as a pleasant memory of a simpler and bygone age. I feel privileged to have known it!

New Beer Range From Tesco

We don't often shop in Tesco. Nothing wrong with the store itself, and whilst some might question the company's ethics, the same could be said of most of the major supermarkets. The reason we don't buy our groceries in Tesco is simply they don't have an outlet in Tonbridge. Today though, we drove over to nearby Sevenoaks, where they do have a rather large Tesco store, and leaving Eileen to do the weekly shop, (she doesn't like to be distracted), I had a browse along the beer aisles.

Amongst the "Buy 3 for the price of 2" and the "Four beers for £6.00" offers, I noticed a small range of attractively packaged British Ales, called "Simply". Priced at the equally attractive price of just £1.33, I picked up a bottle of IPA plus a bottle of Dark Ale. There's not a huge amount of information on the bottles, but they do list the ingredients, together with the characteristics of the beer. They also suggest foods to complement the beer, with both styles suggesting the beer can be enjoyed, chilled on its own. There's honesty for you!  No indication as to the brewery responsible for these beers is given, but the front label does carry the master brewer's signature and to me it looks like that of Marston's Head Brewer, Emma Gilleland. Certainly the beers have that Marstons taste about them.

I found the 5.0% IPA very enjoyable, with a nice balance between the citrus hops and the rich, biscuity maltiness. The 4.5% Dark Ale was also very good. Perhaps not quite as dark as I would have liked, but still a deep ruby red in colour. The label says "Rich and full-bodied, with a smooth fruity flavour"; a description I would not disagree with.

I'm drinking this beer now, as I write, but whilst in Tesco's earlier, I  noticed a Simply Stout in the same range. I am now wishing I'd slipped a bottle of that as well into my shopping basket.

More on Parlour Pubs

After my recent article on Parlour Pubs, I was prompted to do a bit more digging into the subject, as I find the whole  idea fascinating. We all know that when ones steps over the threshold of a pub, especially a traditional, tenanted pub, one is often steeping into the landlord or landlady's home. The Parlour Pub takes this concept of the licensee's home a stage further in so much as there isn't a physical barrier, in the form of a bar (note that word bar - meaning a physical object, such as a counter or serving hatch), between the licensee and his/ her customers. In a Parlour Pub, one is often sitting in part of the licensees "living space", even though they will normally have additional rooms that are totally private, and to which the general public, in the form of customers, are not permitted.

Of course, serving customers in one's own front room, without the presence of a bar, can present difficulties, even if these are confined to somewhere to put the drinks down. In these less trusting times, the question of security also arises; where does one keep the money that customers hand over in exchange for their drinks? Where does one keep the float (change)? and with bottles of spirits and other drinks on display and openly within reach, what is to stop people helping themselves, as soon as ones back is turned?

I have answered these questions myself really. Things were much simpler, back in the days when this type of pub was common-place. Society was more ordered, crime was much less rife and, most importantly, people travelled a lot less than they do today, Licensees would have known most of their customers who, in turn, would all probably have known each other. With a common bond between them, the chances of petty pilfering and helping oneself, were far less likely to occur than they might today. Apart from issues of security, probably the main reason Parlour Pubs virtually died out is that they were impracticable and inefficient. After all it is far easier to serve a large group of people if they queue up at a bar, where the licensee is standing behind with everything needed (drinks, dispense equipment, glasses, till etc), at his or her disposal. Also, even so far as a half century or so ago, people were demanding something a little more sophisticated than a few chairs grouped around a table. They might have wanted more comfortable seating, or somewhere with alcoves and seating arranged so they can chat, privately if necessary, rather than being almost forced to join in with others, some of whom they may have not cared much for.


Bearing this in mind it is perhaps surprising that Parlour Pubs lasted as long into the 20th Century as they did. Apart from the Woodman's Arms, that I mentioned in my original article, I knew of several others. I  had intended to write about them here, but this post has now grown from being an introduction leading in to a description of  these survivors from a bygone age, into a full-blown article in its own right. I will therefore sign off and post a separate article about parlour-type pubs that I have personal experience of.