The Primrose has wilted

The Primrose is an attractive weather-boarded pub which is around five minutes walk from my house. Although it is situated on a busy thoroughfare leading into the centre of Tonbridge, the Primrose has its own car-park, as well as a patio area at the rear for those who enjoy a pint outdoors during the summer months.

Internally there are a number of different drinking areas, separated by partitions and the odd half-wall. Low beamed ceilings and exposed brickwork help give the pub a cosy feel, aided by homely and comfortable furnishings.

In recent years, the Primrose never seemed to realise its true potential, so it wasn’t overly surprising when it closed its doors for the last time, back in August. The pub is currently boarded up, awaiting an uncertain future (see below), which is a sorry fate for what was once a thriving little pub.

I first became acquainted with the the Primrose during the early 1980’s. Back then it was a typical drinking man’s pub, with two bars of almost equal size, and a central serving area which catered for both public and saloon bars.

I have fond memories of drinking there, as once a week (always on a Thursday), I would join a couple of work colleagues for a lunchtime drink at the pub. The pub was their choice, and I was never quite sure why they chose it, as it wasn’t within walking distance. Instead it was a short (c. 5 minutes), drive away.

My two colleagues were Peter, the Work’s Engineer, and his assistant Pat. Peter was in his late 50’s, and Pat probably in his mid to late 30’s. I was the youngster of the group, having just passed my mid  20’s, and was also a bit of an interloper, as the pair were like father and son.

I was also the Company Chemist, and for whatever reason the pair took a bit of a shine to me, probably because we used to interact during the course of our work; so knowing that I liked a pint, they invited me to join them for their regular Thursday lunchtime drink.

Pat invariably acted as chauffeur; driving us there and back in his bright orange Ford Capri, but with the transit time taken into account, our time in the pub was limited to around 50 minutes. This was because  both my colleagues had to be back in time to “clock in”. As salaried employee I was exempt from this practice, but as I was reliant on Pat to get me back to work, this exemption was somewhat irrelevant.

One thing which never changed though, was us always buying a round each. Three drinkers, meant three pints and somehow we managed to knock them back during the limited time we were in the pub. I would often manage a sandwich as well, as I have never liked drinking on an empty stomach. Looking back, it’s a wonder any of us stayed awake during the afternoon shift, but I don’t recall there being any problems

The Primrose was a smashing little pub back then. It probably dated from Victorian times, and had a real homely feel to it; much more so than it did during its latter days, when the bars were knocked through into one, and the serving area was moved to one side.

The landlord’s name was Nigel. He had a slight cheeky-chappy look about him, but we rarely saw him, as he wasn’t often present at lunchtimes. With Nigel absent, most of the time, the task of looking after us thirsty punters fell to Sue, the lovely and comely barmaid, who always gave us a warm welcome and a friendly smile. She also had a dry sense of humour and was not someone to be trifled with, as I’m sure some customers found out to their cost.

Apart from Sue, the Primrose’s main attraction was its well-kept Fremlin’s Bitter, brewed by Whitbread at their Faversham plant in north Kent. Fremlin’s was a good quaffing bitter, which packed plenty of taste into its relatively low strength of 3.5% ABV.

Even so, I’m certain that after three pints, our chauffeur Pat would almost certainly have been over the limit, had he been stopped and breathalysed on the way back to work. As for me, I worked out that by the time I finished work, three hours later, I would be OK to drive back to Maidstone, where I lived at the time.  

Times change and in the spring of 1985, the company we worked for, sold off a substantial part of its business and the three of us were made redundant. We all went our separate ways. I’m not sure where my two former colleagues ended up, but I secured a laboratory placement working for a pharmaceutical company in Lamberhurst, on the Kent-Sussex border. I also re-married.

My marriage led to me moving to Tonbridge, to a house within walking distance of  the Primrose, but with our little group scattered, and me working 10 miles down the road, I had little reason to frequent my former haunt.

Towards the end of the 80’s, I learned that Whitbread, the Primrose’s  owners, had carried out an extensive re-modelling of the pub’s interior, knocking the two former bars through into one. I paid a visit along with a friend from CAMRA, and didn’t really like what I saw.

The alterations were as described above, but to me rather than adding to the pub, they took something away, in the form of both character and atmosphere.  I think it was from this point on that the Primrose’s fortunes began to decline, assisted by a succession of inexperienced or unsuitable licensees.

The pub changed ownership as Whitbread retreated from brewing and sold off their tied estate. In recent years it was owned by an outfit called Pendry’s Pubs Ltd. The company own at least two other pubs in Tonbridge, but trying to find anything out about them is no easy task, as their website is not very informative, and is also rather out of date.

The succession of unsuitable licensees continued, with each seemingly convinced that a diet of Sky Sports, karaoke, fancy dress evenings and lunchtime food were what was needed to draw the punters in. Unfortunately the pub was too small for the big-screen, which meant football tended to dominate everything, when a match was being shown.

Fortunately I managed to escape the karaoke evenings, but darts evening were also a bit of a nightmare. I remember my local CAMRA branch attempting to hold a committee meeting in the pub whilst sat just a few inches away from where the players were aiming at the board. The darts team also demanded silence, whilst play was in place, so the meeting was not particularly successful.

Successive licensees kept trying to inject some life into the place, and I lost count of the number of times I drove past and saw yet another sign advertising the pub was “Under new ownership”  and also serving up "Home Cooked Food". The idea of  food on weekday lunchtime was a total misreading of not just the local market, but the national one as well. There are few factories left in Tonbridge, and most of the offices are located slap bang in the centre of the town. Not only that, but working people just don’t go to the pub of a lunchtime, like they did when I began my career, nearly 40 years ago.

Harvey’s Sussex Best was the sole cask beer, and a sensible choice, as the beer has a strong local following. The quality was variable, although to be fair to the pub, I never had a bad pint there. The problem was though, that with changing habits and a the loss of several large employers in the town, the Primrose was on a hiding to nothing.

On several occasions I remember walking by, late on a Saturday evening, on my way home from a night out elsewhere, and seeing the pub virtually deserted. Sometimes the place was shrouded in darkness, after having shut early. This must have been heart-breaking for the new owners, who were probably already struggling.

As I said at the beginning of this article, I was not surprised to see the Primrose closed, even though I found it very sad. The pub could have had a future by being turned back into a traditional alehouse; perhaps even a largish micro-pub, without the "Herne strictures" applied..

Sadly the following planning application has been lodged with the local council. 18/02488/FL | Demolition of the existing primrose public house and redevelopment of the site to provide 4 no. dwelling houses and 2 no. apartments with associated access, parking, infrastructure and landscaping | Primrose Inn 112 Pembury Road Tonbridge Kent TN9 2JJ.

You can click on the link yourselves and take a look, but the developers claim the pub was trading at a loss, and had been for years. They also claim the building is in a state of disrepair and would need further investment and additional floor space to remain as a public house. 

So unless a fairy godmother appears, clutching a large wad of cash, it really does look like the Primrose's days are numbered, and another small, old-school beer-house of the type which was once commonplace  will  be consigned to the dustbin of history.

Haysden Country Park

I’m very fortunate living where I do in a thriving provincial town in the Garden of England, surrounded by some beautiful and, at times, spectacular country side. My adopted home town of Tonbridge might have its detractors, but it has plenty going for it, including a pleasant river-side setting, a 13^th Century castle, fast road and rail links to the rest of the country and, at long last, some great places to enjoy a pint.

The town is also fortunate to have an area of unspoilt, but managed countryside on its doorstep in the form of Haysden Country Park. The latter occupies an area of about 65 hectares (160 acres) in the Medway Valley, to the west of Tonbridge, and includes a range of habitats such as river, grassland, freshwater lakes, marshland and woodland. 

The site was formerly agricultural land, but its location on the Medway Flood Plain, meant there were extensive deposits of sand and gravel just below the surface. Between 1974 and 1980 these valuable building materials were extracted from the land; dug out by means of dragline excavators. These works altered the landscape and created two artificial lakes: Barden Lake and Haysden Water. Once the gravel workings were completed, Tonbridge & Malling Borough Council purchased the site and created the park.

The park stretches from Barden Lake at its eastern end, westwards to Haysden Water. The River Medway runs along the park’s northern edge, away from the Leigh Flood Relief Barrier and Storage Area. The latter scheme plays a crucial role in the protection of Tonbridge from the threat of flooding.

The park can either be reached by car or, by my preferred method of cycling out from Tonbridge. My route normally starts from the old Racecourse Sports Ground; a large 69 acre site set between two meandering branches of the River Medway, right in the heart of the Tonbridge, next to the town’s  13th Century Castle. There are lengthy hard-surfaced paths circling the whole of the sports ground, both along the banks of the river and through nearby woodland, and it is one of these which leads to the country park.


As the weather was quite clement on Saturday, certainly for early November, Mrs PBT’s  and I decided to take a trip down to Haysden Country Park. The idea was to take a walk around the lake, in order to assist with my wife’s ongoing rehabilitation, but also for a spot of brunch. There is small, lock-up café along with a picnic area, just along from the car park, and I knew from a couple of friends who carry out voluntary work at the park, that the café serves up a mean bacon roll, plus a decent cup of coffee.

Despite my aforementioned fondness for cycling, we drove down and after parking the car the café was our first stop. It seemed as if half of Tonbridge had the same idea, but the café is well run and properly organised, and after placing our order we didn’t have to wait long for the staff to call our number. My bacon and egg roll was excellent, and Mrs PBT’s bacon and sausage baguette was equally good.

Suitably refreshed, we took a walk along to the lake. The path passes under a bridge which carries the Tonbridge-Redhill railway line, before opening up into the expanse of Barden Lake. There was a brisk wind blowing, but with the sun shining it felt quite warm for the time of year as we began our walk along the northern shore of the lake. Like us, there were lots of people out enjoying a spot of fresh air and the views across the water. There was even the odd fisherman, bunkered down in a bivouac.

We got about half way round, before turning back. Mrs PBT’s legs are beginning to function normally again, but with a traipse around the supermarket to follow, she didn’t want to be over-doing it. We returned to the car, pausing on the way to take a few photos and for a quick look at the Shallows. This is a winding stream which at one stage was part of the River Medway. 

The various  meanders taken by the Medway and the presence of a number of gravel beds, meant the river was rather shallow and difficult to navigate, so since the river was used by canal boats a navigable diversion was constructed around this section. The Shallows then became a quiet backwater stream which is gradually developing into marshland. Eileen remembers spending many a happy day there, as a child, playing and paddling in shallow water, which was crystal clear back in those days.

 Before ending this little piece, it’s only right that a special mention should be made of the Haysden Country Park Volunteers. Two of my friends belong to this group, which meets on the second Saturday of every month to carry out conservation work, ranging from bank protection, removal of non-native species of invasive plants, landscaping and coppicing work, clearing of scrub and other associated schemes.

The hours of unpaid work which this group puts in each month, helps to ensure the park retains its all year round appeal, and also encouraged wild life to flourish. Most importantly, it ensures this Local Nature Reserve and Site of Nature Conservation Interest, remains unspoilt for future generations to enjoy and appreciate.



One final point which ought to be mentioned, particularly in a blog which majors on beer and pubs, is that a short distance away from the entrance to the country park, is the former Royal Oak pub. This late Victorian, two-bar public house closed some time around 2010, and has since been converted into two private dwellings.

The former landlord claimed that not enough people were using the pub, and whilst he may partially have been right the Royal Oak was ideally situated to capitalise on its proximity to Haysden Lake, and would have been the ideal spot for a welcoming beer. I can’t help feeling an opportunity was lost, somewhere along the line.
 

Red Lion re-visited

So finally we come to the legendary establishment that is the Red Lion at Snargate; a pub whose fame and reputation has spread far beyond the quaint corner of south-east Kent which is Romney Marsh.

I have written two previous posts about the pub, the most recent of which was in 2016, following the sad passing of long-serving landlady, Doris Jemison. You can read that post here. The post before that was written in 2010, and looking back I realised that was the last time I'd visited the Red Lion. Fortunately last Saturday's trip to Romney Marsh allowed me to make amends, and I'm pleased to report that little has changed at this unspoilt gem.

Before going any further it is worth trotting out a few excuses for leaving such a lengthy gap between visits, but the truth is a wonderful pub like the Red Lion is not the sort of place to drive to, (for obvious reasons). Equally, because of its isolated situation, it is not somewhere which is readily served by public transport,. However, with a little forethought and slightly more effort, it is quite possible to enjoy more than a few pints in the Red Lion without getting behind the wheel and breaking the law.

The Marsh-Link rail-line runs from Ashford, across Romney Marsh, down to Rye and eventually on to Hastings. I have walked to the Red Lion from both Hamstreet and Appledore stations; across country from the former and along the road from the latter.

However, the 30 minutes walk, from Appledore station, along the busy B2080, is not particularly recommended as at times it requires quick-witted action to avoid speeding motorists who seem to regard the road as a race track. An OS Map though, will allow the keen walker to take the longer, but far safer scenic cross-country route from Hamstreet station.

The Red Lion features on CAMRA's National Inventory of unspoilt Heritage Pubs, and is believed to date back to 1540. However, unlike many old pubs of a similar age, the inside has not been modified leaving a series of inter-connecting rooms. The walls are decorated with a series of original World War II posters (none of your fake "Keep Calm and Carry On" tat here), and other memorabilia.

Although there is a set of three hand pumps on the marble bar top, they have not been used for many years. Instead all beers are served direct from casks stillaged behind the bar. Local beers feature prominently on the menu, with Maidstone brewer's Goacher's being a firm favourite.

There were two Goacher's beers available last Saturday; Dark Mild and Imperial Stout and I can personally vouch that both were in good form. Doris's daughter Kate and her partner were behind the bar, and were pleased to see us. They'd been expecting our party of course, but I think one or two of the regulars were a little taken aback by  what looked like an invasion.

We spread ourselves out though, with most people decamping to the largest of the pub's three rooms, which is at the front of the building. A small group of us stayed close to the bar, swapping tales of previous visits. A couple of decades ago, several MMK CAMRA members had been involved with a Dad's Army re-enactment group, known as the "Barmy Army Film Club", and because of its 1940's appearance, the Red Lion had been used as a setting for a couple of the period films the club produced.

Mrs PBT's and I had a small role in the second film, and I remember turning up at the Red Lion, in full Home Guard costume, on a freezing cold winter's morning, having diced with death after walking from Appledore station. A dozen or so of the cast met at the pub for a rendezvous with a film crew from London Weekend  Television (remember them?), to shoot a few period scenes with presenter Danny Baker, who was then a reporter on the station's Six O'Clock Show.

After recording interviews, inside the pub, with some of the principal cast members, filming was due to move outside. The TV company had gone to the trouble of hiring the period butcher's van which belonged to Corporal Jones in the Dad's Army series, and this was to feature us lot getting into the back, complete with our de-activated Lee Enfield rifles, and re-enacting the part of 1940's Home Guardsmen.  

Unfortunately the day chosen by LWT for the filming, was the day that Margaret Thatcher decided to step down as Prime Minister. This was obviously a far bigger story than a group of CAMRA members, dressing up as members of the Home Guard. Much to his annoyance, the TV company despatched a fast car to collect Danny Baker and whisk him back to London, where they wanted him out on the streets, interviewing people about their reaction to the Thatcher resignation story.

I won't repeat his exact words, but Danny Baker was not at all pleased that national events had overtaken the fun he was having sinking a few pints at the Red Lion with the Barmy Army Film Club, whilst preparing to go out "on manoeuvres".

That little episode took place in November 1990, but standing at the very same spot in the bar the other Saturday, I'm certain that little has changed at the Red Lion over the past 28 years.

Saturday's visit wasn't solely one of nostalgia, as with new licensees in charge at the Red Lion, albeit from the same family, there is much to look forward to. The pub's exterior has been given a new coat of paint, the outside Gents now was a Perspex roof so you don't get wet whilst taking a pee, and  there is now running hot water and an electric hand-dryer.

There aren't many other changes though, as apart from crisps and nuts, the Red Lion still doesn't serve food. Doris was always quite happy for people to sit in the games room and eat their own sandwiches and in summer time, there was always the sheltered garden behind the pub. I didn't check, but I imagine this arrangement is still pretty much the case.

I'd like to think that I've sold the appeal of this unspoilt gem to you, and if I have, you are probably wanting to make a visit. The easiest way of course, is to drive there, but unless you have a willing, non-drinking driver, or are prepared to strictly limit your consumption, this is  not something I'd recommend.

Providing the weather is fair, and the going underfoot good, then public transport is your best bet. The No. 11 Stagecoach service from Ashford, will drop you at Brenzett, but this still involves a walk along the busy the busy B2080, which I mentioned earlier.

My preferred option would be to take the Marsh-Link  train from Ashford, leave the train at Hamstreet, and then head south and west of the village towards Warehorne. You can then strike out in a roughly southerly direction, across the fields to Snargate. Make sure you've got a decent, large-scale map with you, as I've ended up getting lost before.

Whichever way you choose, I'm certain you will enjoy your visit to the Red Lion, and the step back in time which goes with it. Make the most of it though, because as far as I am aware, there are no obvious successors for when Kate and her partner decide to call it a day.

Last stop - Coldred

Sorry to disappoint those who were eagerly awaiting my write up of the Red Lion at Snargate, but I’m short of time at the moment; a combination of too much work and not enough play. But on the premise of make hay whilst the sun shines, I’ll take the extra work while it lasts.

The downside has meant not as much time for writing as I would like, so with this, and the above, in mind, here’s a short article about the Carpenter’s Arms at Coldred. This was the final pub of last Saturday’s tour, and it was a real surprise.

Most of us had never heard of Coldred, but for the record it’s a tiny village situated in a fold in the North Downs, a few miles to the north-west of Dover. With a population of just over 100 individuals and 55 dwellings. Its main claim to fame is the Grade 1 listed church of St Pancras, which dates back to Saxon times. There is also a duck pond opposite the pub, although as it was dark when we arrived, I don’t think any of us noticed it, despite the coach pulling up alongside.

The Carpenter’s has 18^th Century origins, but is a relatively anonymous-looking, white painted building. It is sited slightly below road level, meaning customers have to negotiate  a flight of internal steps in order to gain access. The pub has been in the same family for over 100 years, and with  its simple furniture and  plain décor, has remained largely unchanged for 50 years.

WhatPub states that the Carpenter’s is one of “CAMRA's Real Heritage Pubs”, but as the Pub Heritage website is still closed for maintenance (after several months of not being available), I am unable to verify this. A few of us were discussing  the pub’s status, last Saturday, whilst sitting in the plainly furnished left-hand bar, and we concluded that whilst the pub still has two bars, it has been knocked about a bit and “modernised” in a slightly insensitive way.

None of this should distract from the fact the Carpenter’s is a proper, old-fashioned pub, and a real find as far as most of us were concerned. As I mentioned earlier, it was dark when we arrived, and the one external photo I took, doesn’t do the place justice at all, but you should be able to get a feel for the pub from some of the internal shots.

The Carpenter’s is very much the village local, and the assortment of over-sized and misshapen vegetables, laid out in readiness on a long table in the right hand bar, indicated that a contest was to be held later that evening (probably once we’d left).

It was quite cosy in the pub, as with just under 30 in our party, and the pub regulars gathered for a pint, plus the eagerly awaited vegetable growing contest, space, and seats were at a premium, but we all managed to squeeze in and settled down to enjoy some good beer and some equally good conversation.

There was an extensive range of beers on sale, although probably too many for some followers of this blog. A couple of the beers were dispensed through a vintage set of beer engines reputed to be nearly 100 years old. I went straight in on the Gadd’s, as did several of my companions, as I think you have to go a long way to find finer beers than the well-crafted brews turned out by Eddie Gadd at the Ramsgate Brewery.

Gadd’s No. 5 really hit the spot, and came in at 3.5 NBSS, but there was also a slightly stronger offering from the company in the form of a dark beer, brewed to mark the 100^th anniversary of the ending of the Great War. The beer isn’t listed on the Ramsgate Brewery website, but I’ve a feeling it was a 4.5% brew, called War Horse. It was dispensed direct from a cask, perched up on the bar. Other beers included Rockin’ Robin Reliant and Tropic Fiesta from Beatnikz Republic (never heard of them!).

The Carpenter’s is only open evenings, so a visit using public transport is virtually impossible. A pity really, as there is a daily return bus service Monday to Saturday. However, given Coldred’s proximity to Dover (approx. 6 miles), a taxi for a group of three or four persons shouldn’t prove too expensive.

Alternatively, the pub is just under a mile and a half’s walk from Shepherdswell station so given its 5pm opening, it would be possible during the months of high summer, to spend a couple of hours at the Carpenter’s and still make it back to the station during the hours of daylight.

So for those who appreciate something a little quirky, and out of the ordinary, an evening visit to Coldred, by train and on foot is not only feasible, but highly recommended.

Romney Marsh - the bit in the middle

Last Saturday’s ride out, by vintage coach, to the flatlands of Romney Marsh and beyond was excellent. The sun shone all day, the four pubs we visited were all good, in their own right, and the company I shared the journey with was first class. The trip was organised by an old friend of mine, on behalf of Maidstone & Mid- Kent CAMRA.

As mentioned in my previous post, I used to be a member of that branch, and have kept in touch with various members over the years. The coach we travelled in was and no doubt was the height of luxury in its day, and still bore the legend, and paintwork, of its former owners, Camden Coaches of Sevenoaks. I managed to find a few photos of it on a bus enthusiast’s website, (yes all life is there somewhere on the net, if you know where to look for it), and it is an AEC  Reliance – if that means anything.

The coach picked me up, as planned and on time, from Headcorn station. There were 25 people on board, excluding me and the relief driver, and I couldn’t help noticing, as I made my was to a vacant seat, that some serious card playing was  taking place. I declined an offer  to join in, and instead settled down to enjoy the journey through Tenterden, Appledore and then down onto Romney Marsh itself.

We arrived at the Red Lion, Snargate 15 minutes before opening time, which gave people a chance to stretch their legs (the main contingent from Maidstone had been on the coach for nearly two hours), walk down the lane for a look at the 13^th Century church of St Dunstan, take a few photos or make use of the outside Gentleman’s "facilities".

Now I bet you’re all itching to know what the Red Lion was like, had it changed at all since the passing of long-saving landlady, or just what beers it had on. Well, I’m afraid you will just have to wait, as the Red Lion is worthy of its own write up. The same applies to the Carpenter’s Arms at Coldred, which was the final pub visited that day.

So after an hour and 15 minutes at the Red Lion enjoying a selection of gravity-served beers, and some good conversation, it was back on the bus and off to the Bell at Ivychurch. This was the second pub of the day and our scheduled lunch-stop. The journey through the winding lanes of the Marsh took just over 10 minutes, and we could see the pub, right in front of the 14^th Century parish church, as we approached the village.

Any pretensions I might have had about having visited the Bell before went out of the window, as I quickly realised that I had never set foot in the place until Saturday. The pub dates from the 16^th Century, but has a modern, flat-roofed extension on the far right of the building.

The proximity of pub and church harks back to medieval times, and for many the two form the perfect combination, but for us thirsty explorers it was beer, and food, that we were after. The Bell is surprisingly large inside, with a long single bar area. The bar counter is opposite the entrance, whilst the area to the left is given over largely to diners. There is a games area, housed in the modern extension, at the far right of the building. Pool and darts may be played there.

The pub still remains very much a village local, and there certainly seemed to be a few characters congregating around the bar, as we entered. With just a few days until that most unwelcome of American imports, the Bell was decorated with a distinct Halloween theme, as evidenced by the ornately carved pumpkins near the entrance, and the fireplace which was decked out in a similar fashion. 

The pub was expecting us, as the tour organiser had not only checked first, but had also taken orders for everyone’s main course and emailed their preferences through to the licensees. I was impressed by the way the pub staff  managed our party of 28, getting us all sat down at a number of reserved tables, and then bringing the food out on a table by table basis. Unfortunately the table I sat at was the last to be served, but when the food eventually arrived it proved well worth the wait.

Being a dedicated pie-man, I’d opted for the steak and Cheddar pie; an unusual combination which actually worked well. The cheese was present in the inner layer of the pastry, and complemented the tender steak filling. What’s more it was a “proper pie”, as the photo demonstrates.

There were four beers on tap; Adnam’s Broadside, St Austell Trelawney, a beer from Navigation Brewery, whose name escapes me, plus the dreaded Doom Bar. I started off with the Trelawney, but despite it being served in excellent condition, it wasn’t the beer for me. There was something about it which I couldn’t put my finger on, although I suspect it was down to the Galaxy hops, imported from Australia.

These impart a rather peachy flavour to the beer, which was not to my liking. I subsequently switched to the Broadside, which was  on top form. We left after paying for our food, and finishing our beer. I think it was around half three when we departed, and I thought it a nice gesture when the landlord came over and thanked us individually for our custom, as we made our way out.

It was then back on the coach for the half hour journey to Hythe. For me, the route was pure nostalgia because, as children, my sister and I were regular visitors to Romney Marsh, in the company of our parents, on family trips to the seaside. So as the coach made its way into New Romney, and then along the coast to St Mary’s Bay and Dymchurch, the memories came flooding back. The road eventually leads into Hythe, after first skirting the extensive MOD firing ranges to the south-west of the town.

Hythe itself, is a pleasant little town, and was one of the original Cinque Ports. Looking at Hythe today, it’s difficult to believe that the town was once a bustling seaport, but over the years the harbour gradually silted up, depriving the townsfolk of their livelihood.  Traces of the original haven can still be seen at the northern end of the Royal Military Canal, at Seabrook, where it reaches the coast.

We were making for a tiny corner pub called the Three Mariners, close to the canal which was originally constructed during the Napoleonic Wars, as part of fortifications designed to repel a potential invasion. The pub is a pleasant back street local, with a roaring fire during winter (it was lit on Saturday), good beer, two distinct rooms, friendly staff and a good feel to it. It is also dog friendly.

While most of our party piled into the left hand bar, a small group of us opted for the other bar, where we even managed to grab a table. The beer offering was Adnam’s Lighthouse, Old Dairy Blue Top and Young’s Bitter. I went for the Blue Top, as I am a big fan of Old Dairy beers. I was also pacing myself at this stage of the proceedings, so just stuck with the one pint.

The sun was beginning to set as we left the pub for our final stop of the day. This was to be the Carpenter’s Arms, in the tiny village of Coldred, tucked away on the North Downs to the north-west of Dover. The first part of the journey was another nostalgia trip for me, as the coach headed out of Hythe, through Seabrook and towards Sandgate.

The sea looked as calm as a millpond, as we drove along the front, before heading up the hill into Folkestone. This route  through Hythe was always my father’s preferred option on trips to Folkestone; rather than the more direct A20. I used to wonder why as a child, but with the wisdom of maturity I can understand why he and my mother always opted for the scenic route, with its views of the sea.

We skirted through the back of Folkestone and picked up the M20 towards Dover, turning off before reaching the town, and into unknown territory. It was getting dark as our coach turned into Coldred, but for the moment, this is where the narrative ends because, as mentioned towards the beginning of this post, you will have to wait until next time to find out what this “time-warp” pub was actually like.

All aboard for Romney Marsh

I'm banking on this weekend being rather more relaxing than the last one. That saw me joining around 700,000 of my fellow citizens on a march through central London, in support of a People’s Vote on any final Brexit deal.

The event ended up at Parliament Square and after listening to a number of rousing and passionate speeches, I jumped on a train to Tunbridge Wells, and spent the evening working a shift behind the bar at the very busy, and well-attended, Spa Valley Railway Beer Festival. Boy was I knackered the following day.

On Saturday, I’m meeting up with members of Maidstone & Mid-Kent CAMRA, for a trip, by vintage bus, to Romney Marsh, before moving on to the charming little town of Hythe. MMK are the neighbouring branch to my own West Kent group, and I know quite a few of their members following joint socials over the years, along with the fact that I lived in the county town from 1978 - 1984. I’ve also been on several trips to foreign parts with a group of them; notably to the Czech Republic the Rhineland and Franconia.

I’ll be joining the bus at Headcorn, which is an easy train journey for me, but I’m not quite sure yet where I’ll be dropped off on the way home. (I’ll worry about that when the time comes!). First port of call is the unspoilt and National Inventory listed, Red Lion at Snargate, aka "Doris’s".

The pub's nickname comes from it former, legendary landlady, Doris Jemison, who sadly passed away in April 2016. The Red Lion is now run by Doris's daughter Kate, and her partner. The pub is believed to date back to 1540, but unlike many old inns of a similar age, the inside has not been modified and still has a series of inter-connecting rooms. It has been run by the Jemison family since 1911 and, except for the odd lick of paint, has not been redecorated since 1890.

It's ages since I last visited this time-warp pub, as it's not the sort of place to drive to, (for obvious reasons), but equally it is not somewhere which is readily served by public transport, because of its isolated situation. Saturday's bus trip should solve these transport problems and allow me to see what changes, if any, have been made to the Red Lion.

Our party will then move on to the Bell Inn at Ivychurch, another tucked-away village on Romney Marsh. I'm pretty certain that I have never set foot in this 16th Century inn, which lies in the shadow of the parish church. This is despite having grown up just outside the nearby town of Ashford. 

The Bell is a free house and was Ashford & Shepway CAMRA's pub of the year in 2016. It has a good reputation for food, which is just as well as we will be stopping there for a pre-booked lunch, as well as beer. The Bell is reputed to have been a smugglers' haunt, but then most pubs on Romney Marsh make similar claims.

The next stop takes us to the small town of Hythe and to the Three Mariners, which is situated close to the Royal Military Canal. A visit to this attractive, corner pub will be another first for me, as whilst I remember driving past the place with my parents when I was a child, I have never set foot in this traditional, side-street local.

With no food available Three Mariners relies on the quality and variety of its cask ales and ciders to attract customers.  The pub still has two bars where patrons can enjoy their drinks, and I have to say I am particularly looking forward to us stopping off there.

The final pub on the tour is way "off piste", as the bus will be taking us to the tiny village of Coldred, which lies to the north-west of Dover. This is real unknown territory for me, although looking at the map, I see that my friends and I passed quite close to the village last summer, when we walking a section of the North Downs Way.

We will be stopping at the Carpenter's Arms, an unspoilt, two room, 18th Century pub overlooking the village green and duckpond. This is another pub which features on CAMRA's Nastional Inventory of Heritage Pubs. The Carpenter's has  been in the same family for over 100 years, and its decor and furniture are said to have remained largely unchanged for the past 50 years.

It is described as a community pub plus a place for conversation and good fellowship. It sounds a pretty good pub to finish up at, and a full report, along with photos, will follow in due course.