Good Friday 2019

The contrast between last year’s Good Friday and the one just passed could not have been greater, and the same applies to the dates on which this Christian holy day is celebrated. As an illustration of this, Good Friday 2018 occurred at the end of March, whilst in 2019 the event took place at the end of the third week in April.

The other contrast, and the one which has the most bearing on this narrative, is that between the weather, as whilst this year we were blessed with temperatures in the lower twenties and wall-to-wall sunshine, the previous year saw heavy rainfall combined with strong winds.

It was small wonder then that after checking the weather forecast, I “wimped out” of last year’s annual Good Friday Ramble and instead joined my friends from West Kent CAMRA on their annual pilgrimage to Margate, for the Planet Thanet Beer Festival.

Now I didn’t really enjoy Planet Thanet, and that’s no reflection on my companions, who provided excellent company, but sitting in the faded grandeur of Margate’s Winter Gardens, sampling endless halves of boringly similar bitters and golden ales, did not float my boat and the best part of the day was when we left the festival, stopped for fish & chips – eaten in the shelter of a shop doorway, and then visited one of Margate's iconic micro pubs.

Given the appalling weather though, I made the right call and that correct decision was confirmed by friends from Maidstone CAMRA, on this year’s Good Friday Ramble. They informed me that not only were they soaked to the skin on the walk to the pub, but when they got there, the place was freezing cold with just one solitary heater for people to huddle around in a vain attempt to dry themselves off.

There were no such problems this year, as our party of 16 met up outside Paddock Wood station to walk to the Dovecote at Capel. This pub is well-known to West Kent CAMRA members for both its gravity-served cask ales and the quality of its food, and it is an establishment I have walked to on several previous occasions from Tonbridge.

It therefore made a pleasant change to take a different route, and the person in charge of the ramble had mapped out an interesting and varied one, which ensured the walk which was of reasonable length, but without being too taxing. It must be said that walk leader Peter, had at one point thought he might have to hand over the reins to someone else. This was due to a badly-broken ankle, sustained whilst on holiday in Malta, six months ago.

Fortunately following surgery both in Malta and in the UK he is back on his feet again, and I am pleased to report that he managed to finish the walk, which was just over five and a half miles in total. The route took us north of the main Ashford-Tonbridge railway at first, and then through some recently planted orchards.

A look at the structures supporting the new trees showed that the fields had once been hop gardens, as shown by the above  photograph, but lovers of traditional beer need not feel left out, as our return journey took us through a series of newly-strung hop plantations.

After passing under the railway by means of a pedestrian tunnel, we came across a number of other hop-related structures, in the form of some hoppers’ huts, which appeared to have recently been restored. It also looked like some form of hoppers’ reunion was taking place, although as this appeared to be a private function, we didn’t stop to investigate.

We were getting close to Capel now, and after skirting the village of Five Oak Green, we passed Capel church, which stands in a field, isolated from the main settlement which, in effect, is little more than a hamlet. This stretch of the walk was the only real uphill section and as we headed up into a series of mature apple orchards, Peter let slip that he had included this loop partly to pad the walk out, but also to ensure those at the front of the party didn’t arrive at the pub until after opening time, rather than standing outside and rattling the door.

We arrived at the Dovecote in about four groups. The lead party had already grabbed some tables at the far end of the bar which was disappointing, as given the fine weather, I would have much preferred to have sat outside. I rather think that food, as well as drink was on their minds, but as we had all pre-ordered our food eating al fresco would not have been a problem.

Drink-wise we were all in for a treat, with beers such as Butcombe Bitter, Adnam’s Lighthouse, Harvey’s Sussex Best, Hop Back GFB and Gales HSB all available, direct from casks, racked in a chilled room behind the bar. I was immediately drawn to the GFB, as we rarely, if ever, see any beers from Hop Back in this part of the country, and boy was I glad I chose it. The beer was so good, and my thirst so great, that the first pint hardly touched the sides. It was a definite 4.0 NBSS, and perhaps deserved a score of 4.5.

I just had to have another, consumed a little more leisurely this time, especially as my food had arrived. This was rather large portion of battered cod, with some equally chunky, and very tasty chips to go with it. I wondered at one stage whether I would finish it or not, but I managed it and thoroughly enjoyed every last bit.

The after-dinner conversation turned to brewery visits, particularly after I had made my Maidstone colleagues jealous by detailing West Kent CAMRA’s recent tour of Harvey’s, and the fact that the legendary Miles Jenner had acted as our guide. The pressure is now on for their branch social secretary to come up with a similar tour!

My final beer at the Dovecote was a pint of Gales HSB, which I rightly 

described as a real, old-fashioned, strong-bitter. Ruby red in colour, and topped with a fluffy white head, this was almost exclusively a malt-driven beer, but none the worse for that. Some might describe it as too sweet, and whilst it was undoubtedly quite syrupy in nature, it was none the worse for that, as there was still a hint of balancing bitterness lurking in the background.

Like the Hop Back offering, this Fuller’s brewed version of the Horndean classic, was every bit as good as what I remember from my first taste of this legendary Gales Special Bitter.

After our two hours plus stop-over, it took a while to get going again, as we departed the Dovecote. We followed a slightly different route back, and one which took us through the aforementioned hop gardens and then right through the part of Five Oak Green which lies on the other side of the railway.

I clocked the route using the tracker on my phone, at 7.26 km on the outward walk and 5.17 km on the return leg – just under five and a half miles in total. It seemed like more, and my legs certainly ached a bit, but it’s worth noting that due to the lack of rain I recent weeks, an old pair of shoes sufficed, rather than my usual, heavier walking boots.

We went our separate ways back at Paddock Wood, with a promise to meet up again next year. Peter wasn’t giving much away as to the route, or indeed the pub for 2020, although he did say it would be somewhere along the rail line which runs out of Maidstone East station.

Ramblin' Again

Although Easter is very late this year its coming heralds an annual event that has become a well established tradition. I am talking about the Good Friday Ramble, an event organised by members of Maidstone & Mid-Kent CAMRA branch which is now in its 42^nd year.

Despite it longevity the formula has remained the same, and perhaps that is why, four decades later, the walk retains its appeal and popularity. The walk organisers (and there have only been two of them over the past 42 years), will plan the route around a suitable country pub – one which is capable of accommodating a party of 20-30 walkers. The walk will start and finish at somewhere convenient for people to get to by public transport, so this is normally a railway station.

The locations have varied over the years, but I’m fairly certain we have covered most of Kent; certainly anywhere which is easily reached by rail, from Maidstone.  Once assembled the group then sets off at a leisurely pace across country, following public footpaths wherever possible, to a suitable local pub, for a lengthy lunchtime stop.

Being a CAMRA organised event, special care will have gone into selecting the pub, so as well as being able to accommodate a fairly large group of ramblers and feature a good food offering, the pub must stock a reasonable selection of well-kept cask ales.

This has normally been the case, but there have been a few howlers over the years and who could forget the walk along the Medway Valley, on one of the coldest Easters on record, to find ourselves in a pub which not only didn’t serve food, but was also bereft of any form of heating.

We were aware of this beforehand, and although the pub allowed us to eat our sandwiches inside, that was definitely a case where a hot meal would have provided some much needed internal warmth. I also recall that an hour or so into our stay, the beer ran out – the pub’s excuse was that a party of thirsty Morris Men had paid an unexpected visit the night before. The same applied with another old pub, high up on the North Downs, which again lacked heating (and cooked food), where it was actually warmer to sit out in the pub garden!

These hiccups aside, we usually end up somewhere decent, where both beer and food are of a suitably high quality, and where we are made to feel welcome.  Suitably refreshed the group walks back to the starting point, normally by a different route; although  there have been occasions where the route chosen has been a linear one.

These annual rambles provide a good opportunity to meet and catch up with people one hasn’t seen for a while, in my case often since the previous ramble. As one wag succinctly put it in the past, “It’s always interesting to see how many of us have survived another winter!”

That remark, of course refers to the fact that none of us are getting any younger, so as a reflection of this the walks are gentler and less arduous than they were nearly four decades ago, with less hills and other natural obstacles. They are also shorter, being typically around seven to eight miles, rather than the ten to twelve miles traversed in our youth.

Although I am a member of West Kent CAMRA, I know quite a few people in MMK Branch; the result of having lived in the county town during the late 70’s and early 80’s, and still keep in touch with old friends from this time. I am normally joined by a couple of my West Kent friends, both of whom appreciate a walk through the beautiful Kent countryside.

This year’s ramble was quite a local one for me, and took in a pub which I have walked to on several previous occasions; although not by the route the walk organiser chose on Friday. You can read all about where we went, and the beer and food we enjoyed, in the next post.

Not quite so Premier in Ross-on-Wye

Last weekend Mrs PBT’s and I spent a few days away. For the record it was my birthday, but not a significant one. However being the birthday boy I got to choose the location, and the area I chose was the Forest of Dean.

It is a part of the country which was new to both of us, although many years ago I skirted the edge of the Forest on a family trip to Wales, during my childhood. As my good lady wife is/was a big fan of Premier Inns, I booked us into their Ross-on-Wye hotel, a couple of miles from the centre of Ross.

We passed through Ross-on-Wye, on that first childhood trip to Wales;  it is after all on the A40, a road which, prior to the opening of the M4, was the main route into South Wales from England. It’s also worth remembering that until the first Severn Bridge opened in 1966, the crossing at Gloucester was the lowest on the Severn.

The strange thing is that earlier in the journey, as we were skirting around Gloucester, I recognised the crossing over the River Severn,  some 57 years or so after I had first passed that way. How spooky is that!

I digress, so back to the narrative. The Forest of Dean is a geographical and historical  region which occupies the western part of Gloucestershire. It forms a roughly triangular plateau bounded by the River Wye to the west and northwest, Herefordshire to the north, the River Severn to the south, and the City of Gloucester to the east.
 

The area is one of several surviving ancient woodlands in England, and is characterised by more than 110 square kilometres (42 sq mi) of mixed woodland. A large area of the forest was reserved for royal hunting both before and after the Norman Conquest and it remains as the second largest Crown Forest in England.

We arrived at our Premier Inn base just before 4pm. We had pre-booked a table at the adjoining Beefeater Pub for 6pm, which didn't really allow sufficient time for exploring prior to our reservation, so we decided to leave a look around Ross-on-Wye until the following day. This was a shame, and contrary to my usual preference of getting to know the local area as soon as possible.

The annoying thing was the pub wasn’t overly  busy, and I'm sure that if we'd just turned up later in the evening, they would still have found us a table. Every cloud has a silver lining though and as luck would have it we were in time to take full advantage of the Beefeater's "Value Menu", which runs between 10am and 6.30pm, and offers a selection of dishes that are almost half the price of the chain's normal offerings.

So it was the chicken and ham pie, with thrice-cooked chips and peas, for me, and a steak sandwich for  Mrs PBT’s. Not surprisingly the beer offering wasn’t up to much, with the dreaded Doom Bar as the only cask offering. I gave it a go, and whilst it was clear, well-conditioned and reasonably fresh, to say it was bland would be an understatement!

We'd ordered drinks to go with our meal; the aforementioned Doom Bar for me and a bottle of Erdinger low-alcohol wheat beer for my good lady wife. However, when the waiter arrived with the drinks, I noticed that instead of the low-alcohol version, they had brought the full-fat Erdinger Wheat Beer. I pointed out the error, but the bottle had already been opened.

Not wishing to see it go to waste, I valiantly said I would drink it, and whilst I am not normally a fan of wheat beers, I found that particular Erdinger to be tasty, enjoyable and possessed of far more character than Rock's "finest".

The following evening, after a day spent exploring Ross-on-Wye, Symonds Yat and Monmouth, we again ate at the Beefeater. This suited our purposes, as I’d already had a birthday beer, and getting behind the wheel again that evening would have meant restricting myself to just single a pint. I therefore reasoned it would be pointless to drive out to a pub where my beer consumption would be severely limited, and besides, the Beefeater was next to the hotel.

I’m sure the ardent pub-goers reading this will be disappointed, and I must admit that under different circumstances I would have liked to explore a few more pubs in both Ross and the surrounding area, but as I say, the Beefeater ticked the right boxes, apart from the beer offering.

So I celebrated my **^th birthday with a rather nice mozzarella filled chicken, wrapped in pancetta, complete with stem broccoli and skinny fries. The bottled Erdinger Wheat Beer (full-fat version), was a good accompaniment to the food and after a dessert and coffee, we returned to our room where I polished off one of the bottle of  Pilsner Urquell I’d bought earlier. The beer was reasonably chilled after several hours in the boot of the car, although if truth be known, it could have been a little colder.

To end though, I have to say that Premier Inns have fallen mightily in the estimation of Mrs PBT’s. Perhaps I ought to add, as qualification that their Ross-on-Wye outlet has. It was all down to the bed you see, or should I say beds, as despite the company guaranteeing everyone a good night's sleep, neither of us did - certainly not on the first night.

Left to my own devices, I would have slept like the proverbial log, but Mrs PBT’s experienced great difficulty in getting comfortable and consequently spent much of the night tossing and turning and, at times, positively throwing herself about. It seemed that if she couldn't sleep, then I wasn't going to either!

Being the kind, caring and considerate husband that I am, I ignored her, or at least I did initially, but when her nocturnal movements became too pronounced and too annoying, I thought I'd better ask her what the problem was wrong. When you've been married as long as we have I more or less knew what the answer would be, and sure enough the bed was far too soft for her and she just couldn't get comfortable.

I suggested that Lenny Henry obviously hadn't tried that particular bed, and rolled over closed my eyes and went back to sleep. Like my father I can sleep anywhere - even in meetings at work, as my colleagues will gladly testify, but my good lady wife is a lot more particular as to where she lays herself down, and it certainly showed that night.

The following morning we asked at reception for the sofa bed, by the window to be made up. Great  thought I, a whole double-bed to myself and with luck one contented missus. But no, the sofa bed was not only too hard, but it apparently had a ridge running down the middle. With one more night to go, I opted for the sofa bed and she went back to the double, but sleeping on the left-hand side which is where I'd slept on the first night..

We reckoned that with single business travellers making up much of Premier's guests, certainly during the working week, they were more likely to have slept of the right hand side, purely because there's more room to get in and out on that side, and there was some truth in our logic, as we both had a reasonable night's sleep. The only problem I had was trying not to slide off the side of the sofa bed, as it had a pronounced slope.

So is Mrs PBT's love affair with Premier Inns finally over and, if so, can we go back to my preferred option of scanning Booking.com for somewhere that is more individual, cheaper and within walking distance of a decent boozer?

Symonds Yat and the Wye Valley Gorge

Symonds Yat is a well-known beauty spot on the Wye Valley on the borders of Gloucestershire and Herefordshire, where the river takes a large meander, before almost looping back on itself. If the local rocks weren’t so hard (not sufficiency hard to prevent the river cutting an impressive gorge through them), then that loop would have cut back on itself, forming a classic “ox-bow” lake, so beloved of school geography textbooks.

The Yat (whatever that term might mean), is a place I always wanted to visit, so the chance came on the first full day of our stay in Ross-on-Wye. I’d carried out a little research beforehand, and I’d also tapped up the hotel receptionist – always a good source of local information, earlier that morning.

So after a birthday breakfast (oh, did I not say I’d reached the age referred to in the title of a well-known Beatles song), in Ross-on-Wye, followed by a look round this pleasant little town, we headed due south along the A40, in the direction of Monmouth, looking out, as advised by the receptionist, for the signs for Symonds Yat.

From what I can make out the Yat itself is a large rocky outcrop which stands 500 feet above sea-level, with some spectacular views back down to the river, and across the surrounding countryside, but of more interest to me, especially with a wife who is not really up to climbing a rocky pathway at present, is the impressive gorge that the River Wye has cut through the rocks.

There are also hostelries on either side, along with places to park the car, and there is a choice of visiting either the east or the west banks. I decided on the west bank for starters and followed the signs leading off the A40. The receptionist had advised that the road was narrow in places, and whilst I initially thought she’d been over-dramatic, we soon realised she wasn’t kidding.

After a steady climb, the road narrowed even more and led us down towards the river. Two thirds of the way down, was the Old Ferrie Inn, built into the side of the hill overlooking the river, but it didn’t look open.  As the narrow parking area at the side, looked like the last opportunity to turn round (and even that required something like a twenty-point turn), we decided to cut our losses, retrace our route and see what the opposite bank had to offer.

Looking on the map, the road, or should I say country lane , on this side of the Wye, crosses the river before leading across an area of flat land, enclosed by the aforementioned large loop. This would be the equivalent of the alluvial plain from those classic old geography textbooks – geography was one of the subjects I really enjoyed at school. It then begins to ascend, before forking off in two directions.

The left hand fork, as I later found out, leads up to the rocky outcrop – again, is this the Yat? Whilst the road to right, which is equally narrow, leads down to the river. This was the road for us and, it would seem, a large proportion of both Gloucestershire and Herefordshire!

For reasons best known to the church authorities, Easter is very late this year, which also means the dreaded school holidays are also late. Normally I can celebrate my birthday content in the knowledge that the “little darlings” will be back at school, but I miscalculated badly this time, and it seemed as if the whole world also wanted to enjoy the scenic beauty of the Wye gorge, canoe along the river, or take a rather more relaxing cruise.

We managed to find a parking space, although this wasn’t cheap – especially as we didn’t require a four hour period. Needs must and all that, but having come this far we wanted to take a closer look at the gorge and also to partake of the refreshment offered at the nearby Saracen’s Head Inn.

The latter establishment occupies a prominent position on the east bank of the river, and has been providing food and drink for several centuries. Unfortunately, given the crowds sitting at the tables over-looking the river, and on the terrace outside the pub, I was starting to think we would be unlucky. However, stepping inside the large single bar, with its flagstone floor and scrubbed wooden tables, we managed to find a vacant table, tucked away by the window, at the far end of the bar.

We made a beeline for it before ordering a drink. There was a choice of six cask ales on the bar; a selection which contained a couple of beers from Wye Valley Brewery. I opted for a pint of Hereford Pale Ale (HPA), which came up crystal clear, full of condition and bursting with fruity, citrus-like flavours, (NBSS 4.0).

We were going to have something to eat, but after queuing up at the separate food counter, I over-heard a remark from one of the staff that, in view of the number of customers, there was at least a 45 minute wait for food – even for sandwiches. We decided to cut our losses and pick up a sandwich somewhere else.

We paused for a look at the river and to take a few photos. We also saw the ancient rope ferry in operation; a set up whereby a small boat is pulled across the river by hauling on a rope which crosses from one bank to the other. We then made our way back to the car before heading off in the direction of Monmouth.

There’s an obvious moral to this tale, and that is check the calendar, particularly with regard to school holidays, but despite all the hassle I’m still extremely pleased that at last I managed to see and visit Symonds Yat.

Breakfast re-visited

Back in November 2017, I wrote a lengthy post titled, “A good start to the day?”  It was, of course, an article about breakfast, and chronicled some of the best early morning repasts I have enjoyed over recent years, alongside a few of the places where I polished off these culinary delights.

Now I won’t repeat what I wrote almost 18 months ago, but I want to expand a little on the subject of the first meal of the day. First a bit of background information. I am quite frugal during the working week, where time pressures mean there is little time for anything other than hurriedly grabbing a quick bite to eat. Normally this is either a couple of slices of toast (topped with jam, marmalade or Marmite), or a bowl of cereal – porridge during the winter, and something a little lighter during the warmer months.

I don’t normally indulge myself too much in the mornings, at weekends either; although sometimes Mrs PBT’s will rustle up some French toast, or a couple of bacon sarnies. However, if son Matthew isn’t working, and is up in time, then him and I will normally go out and grab ourselves a breakfast. Being employed in retail means he is often rostered to work at weekends, so these breakfast forays certainly don’t happen every week, but when they do it is well worth making the effort to find somewhere decent.

I’ll be covering this area in a little more detail shortly, but before doing so it’s worth mentioning that  Mrs PBT’s likes to treat the Sabbath as an excuse to catch up on “refurbishing” herself, and not have to get “made up”; something her feminine pride normally insists on before venturing outdoors.

She also claims she can get a lot more done when husband and son are away, stuffing their faces with all sorts of greasy and unhealthy food, although personally I think it’s just an excuse to put her feet up and slob out in front of the TV, watching "Escape to the Country" or “Homes under the Hammer”!

Her body clock also seems to have altered since her dramatic hospitalisation last year, and is no longer much of a morning person. This particularly applies when we are away. Giving up smoking is to blame – not that that’s a bad thing; but with no pressing need to rush down to outside the hotel lobby, for her nicotine fix, she’d rather take her time and get herself ready in a far more leisurely fashion.

This slow, taking ones time in the morning does tend to mean missing out on breakfast, although even before last year’s episode I often tended to go down to breakfast on my own, smuggling her back the odd croissant or two to eat in the room.

This pattern continued when, back in February, on a visit to Norfolk to visit my father, Mrs PBT’s and I booked ourselves into the Norwich West Premier Inn, adjacent to the Norfolk Showground, for a couple of nights.

Now my good lady wife likes a Premier Inn, and I must admit that whilst they might be a little pricier than I would pay if I was travelling on my own, they offer a good standard of comfort, and you know what you are getting. Lenny Henry has even tested the beds for you!

Most Premier Inns have some sort of chain restaurant, either attached, or adjacent where, should you desire, you can tuck in to a decent breakfast. For cost-conscious individual like me, £10 is somewhat on the dear side, so on that recent Norfolk trip, I decided to go elsewhere, and ended up enjoying what was one of the best supermarket breakfasts around.

Longwater Retail Park lies virtually opposite the Premier Inn, on the other side of the busy A47 road. There, at the Sainsbury’s Superstore, you can enjoy a good satisfying breakfast for roughly half the cost of what Colonel Whitbread will charge you. I knew this from a previous stay, several years ago on a visit to Norfolk when mum was still with us.

So leaving Mrs PBT’s at the hotel to a more leisurely start to the day, I nipped across the road and treated myself to a fine full English, courtesy of Mr Sainsbury. I did however, remember to bring my wife back a subway roll and some nibbles. On the drive back to Kent the following morning, we called in at an similar-sized Sainsbury’s Superstore, just off the A11, outside Thetford, but unfortunately we missed breakfast by about 15 minutes.

Closer to home, the lad and I have recently tried the Gatehouse in Tonbridge; owned by the Stonegate Pub Company, and the Hilden Manor, which is part of the Beefeater chain.

Decent breakfasts aren’t really about dining at large chains though, and I include Wetherspoon’s in this description. Even before my boycott of arch-Brexiteer Tim Martin’s establishments, I felt the breakfast offering had started to go downhill, so it’s not as if I’m missing anything. So now, supermarkets aside, the search has been on locally for a place where my son and I can enjoy a good breakfast, at a reasonable price.

Last Sunday our quest for that perfect breakfast took us to Teal Café, just off the A21 at Morley’s Roundabout, between Hildenborough and Sevenoaks. This establishment is a fairly recent, and very welcome addition to the local dining scene. Painted white on the outside, and with a ramp providing disabled access, Teal has a bright and airy interior, with a modern and contemporary feel.

It was buzzing when we arrived, rather later than I would have liked, but blame the lad for over-sleeping. Despite this obvious popularity, the friendly and attentive staff still managed to find us a table for two. Matt went all out with two of everything, whilst I was rather more restrained. The breakfast was freshly cooked to order, and came with a welcoming pot of tea each.

I want to end by discussing a dish that doesn’t often appear on breakfast menus these days. The humble Kipper is an increasingly rare find, and the only places I have come across them have been in Norfolk and the Isle of Man. This is a great shame, as cooked properly kippers make a divine breakfast dish. Whole kippers, lightly grilled, and served with plenty of buttered toast are a rare treat to be enjoy and savoured, wherever you come across them.

Mrs PBT’s has never been keen on serving up them up at home; ostensibly because of their  lingering smell, but on the basis that every cloud has a silver lining, whilst she was recuperating in hospital, at the beginning of last year, I enjoyed freshly cooked kippers for three weekends on the trot.

I bought them whole from Sankey’s, our local fishmongers in Tonbridge who incidentally are owned by the same people who run the successful Sankey’s pub in Tunbridge Wells. An online search brought up the perfect way to cook them, and also the perfect way to minimise the smell.

First bring a pan of water to the boil, turn off the heat, fully immerse the kippers in water, cover and leave for around 7 minutes. The result, perfectly poached kippers, juicy, succulent and with the minimum amount of lingering smell. Pure heaven on a plate.!