25th December 2019

In case it escaped anyone’s notice, yesterday – Wednesday 25^th December was Christmas Day; the “big day,” if you believe all the hype, and all the carefully targeting advertisements designed to part you from your money in the run up to the day itself.

The ads seem to start earlier each year, and certainly once we’re into October, they’re pretty much non-stop – as are all the cheesy hits being blasted out in shops and shopping centres all over the country. By the time the main event arrives, you’re sick and tired of the whole charade and feeling that it’s definitely not “The most wonderful time of the year,” despite what Andy Williams might tell you.

For many people Christmas is not a time to out-spend, out-consume and out-eat your fellow human beings. Instead it is a time for quiet reflection, to count one’s blessings and to spend time with friends and loved ones, if you are fortunate to have them. I’ll be putting some of my reflections out on my blog, before the year is out, but I want to say I enjoyed a quiet Christmas, at home, with my immediate family.

Being slightly older now, I can well appreciate why my father always preferred staying at home on Christmas day, rather than having to drive somewhere or have children and later grandchildren running amok. Mum had other ideas, of course, and expectations of  Christmas that were impossibly high, meaning disappointment was often inevitable.

I’ve never wanted to fall into that trap, and whilst during the early days of my marriage to Mrs PBT’s, I did have to endure driving off to spend time with parents, siblings or other family members, I’m pleased to say those days are passed. The worst part of those visits was, as the sole driver, not being able to enjoy a few beers. I’m not talking of getting tanked up, but I do like a beer or two with my Christmas dinner, without compromising my driving abilities, or breaking the law.

After having endured (sounds awful but it’s meant in the nicest possible way), the stresses arising from spending time in other people’s homes, with people you might not normally choose to spend time with, I can tell you there’s nothing better than being able to close the door on the rest of the world, (even if it’s only for one day), and just relax, chill out and just do your own thing in the comfort of your own home.

So how did I spend my December 25^th ? Did I over indulge on the food or the booze and, seeing as this is a blog about beer, what interesting beers did I enjoy?

I was actually quite moderate with my drink consumption on Christmas Day, and the same applies to the food. I woke up just after 8.30am, and went downstairs just before 9am. Mrs PBT’s had already surfaced in order to get the all important  turkey in the oven, but there was no sign of son Matthew stirring from his slumbers. I made myself a cup of tea, and joined Eileen in a spot of breakfast grazing – finishing up some of the “finger food” left over from Christmas Eve’s soiree.

Presents were opened two and a half hours later, once the preparations for the dinner were progressed as far as they might, and young Matthew had graced us with his presence. We don’t tend to go overboard at Christmas, so there was nothing too extravagant for any of us; although there were the odd few indulgences. 

Shortly after midday both Matt and I started on the drink. I wanted something light to begin with, so the bottle of Curious Brew Lager that was lurking at the back of the fridge seemed just the ticket. The “curious” part of the name comes from the use of Champagne yeast, used to conduct a secondary fermentation. This imparts a Champagne - like quality to the beer, making it a surprisingly refreshing drink. Curious indeed!

I waited for Christmas dinner before cracking open my second beer, which was a bottle of Fuller’s 1845. For the past decade or so, this excellent, strong, bottle-conditioned ale has been my usual accompaniment for a turkey dinner. The rich malt combined with the earthy hop character cuts in well against the flavours and texture of the turkey and associated vegetables.

The dinner was excellent, but then Mrs PBT’s always serves up a good spread, and she certainly did us proud yesterday. Without wishing to bore with too much  in the way of domestic details, we went for a turkey from Tesco this year, rather than from our usual choice of  a Waitrose bird. It was tender, succulent plus nice and flavoursome, proving that turkey doesn't have be dry, bland and tasteless.

I finished the 1845 before I finished my meal, so I moved onto the Larkin’s Porter from the mini-cask that I’d stored out in the summerhouse. It had cleared nicely since the haziness of the previous evening, and was rich, dark and satisfying. Having only managed to track down one outlet selling one of my favourite winter beers so far this year, it’s good to have some on tap to be enjoyed in the comfort of my own home.

No more beers for a while, as a break from both food and alcohol seemed a good idea. So did a couple of glasses of water, as both can leave one dehydrated. Later on I cracked open a can of Pilsner Urquell. As I've undoubtedly mentioned before, this world classic, original pilsner, is my go-to beer for drinking at home. It has a tremendous depth of flavour for a 4.4% beer, with just the right amount of bitterness from the Saaz hops balanced against a deep malty background. Without getting too technical, this has something to do with the triple-decoction mash that the beer undergoes in the initial stages of production.

I finished the evening with a can of Life & Death, the excellent 6.5% abv IPA from Vocation Brewery. Pale in colour, and packed full of juicy malt flavours, off-set by aromas and flavours of tropical fruits, the beer proved the perfect accompaniment to the obligatory turkey sandwich.

That then, was my lot, and all things considered an enjoyable Christmas Day, without too much in the way of excess, and nothing in the way of stress. I even watched the odd spot of TV, just to be sociable, but when all’s said and done, it does seem like a terrific fuss for what, after all, is just another day.

I trust everyone  had an equally enjoyable December 25^th, and I extend my best wishes and compliments of the season to one and all.

Christmas at home with Larkin's Porter

With Christmas just a day away, the vexed question of what beers to get in to enjoy over the Christmas period, once again raises its head. Or does it, as for the last few years I’ve largely given up on stocking up with certain favourites and instead have just gone with the flow.

That doesn’t mean I have a dry, beer less Christmas – that would be a disaster, but what I have tended to do is buy whatever is on offer at my local supermarkets; primarily Tesco, Waitrose and Asda, as Sainsbury’s seem to have given up on discounting or special offers. That way I can build up a reasonable stock of something drinkable and enjoyable, without breaking the bank.

I ensure that my festive season stock always includes personal favourites, such as Pilsner Urquell, Fuller’s Porter,  1845 and St Austell Proper Job. This Christmas I have built up quite a stock of cans from Vocation Brewery – Pride & Joy plus Life & Death. Last month I wrote about the promotion Tesco have been running on these beers

I have my father to thank for the long-standing tradition of Christmas beers within the Bailey household as, even though he was never much of a drinker, and certainly not a beer drinker, my dad was not averse to getting a few beers in for us to enjoy over the festive season.

I remember badgering him to get in some tins of Sainsbury’s Bitter; after I discovered it was brewed by Ruddles. A year or so later, I persuaded him to go for the real thing, in the form of Ruddles County – then available in those squat-shaped, stumpy bottles, with the ring-pull caps.

The Ruddles fascination was probably during my university years, whilst I was home with my parents, for the Christmas break. Those home visits were interspersed with sessions down at the Honest Miller - the local pub in the village, where copious pints of locally-brewed Fremlin's Bitter were enjoyed.

A few years later, after graduating, and after buying my first house, a two-up and two-down terraced cottage in Maidstone, I took what was the next step in home drinking, which was treating myself to a polypin of real ale, from a local brewery.

I’d become involved with the local CAMRA branch and ended up copying what one or two of the more senior members were doing. That was forty years ago, when I was approaching my mid-twenties, and some of those “senior” members were probably younger than I am now, but perception is everything when you’re young, and anyone over 40 was positively ancient in my book!

My polypins were mainly sourced from Harvey’s, although over the next few years I tried beer from several other breweries, including the Royal Tunbridge Wells Brewery, whose equipment, and premises, were later acquired by Larkin’s.

The advantage of polypins is the beer is contained in a flexible container, inside the sturdy cardboard outer box, and the liner slowly collapses as the beer is drawn off. Because the beer does not come into contact with oxygen in the air, the beer will last upwards of two weeks, but inevitably it will start losing condition.

This meant the beer wasn't always quite at its best by the time the contents were exhausted, but I also found considerable variation in quality between different beers. None were off, or even approaching undrinkable, but several were rather lacking in condition, meaning a flat and often uninspiring pint. When you’ve got 36 pints of beer to get through that you’re not particularly enjoying, then it becomes something of an endurance test.

I eventually gave up on polypins and moved on to bottles as, in my experience, they're a much better bet. Not only do they remain fresh until they are opened, but they can provide a lot more variety. And with so much good food and interesting flavours available over the Christmas period, variety is what's required.

My days of buying draught beer in bulk seemed over until last week. I’d popped into the "Causeway Stores," close to my work, to buy a few more stamps from the Post Office, and to post a card to my sister in America.  Stacked in a corner, close to the counter, were several 5 litre mini-casks.

Now many micro, and not so micro breweries offer beer in these containers, not just at Christmas, but all year round. These ones were from Larkin’s who brew a few miles away in Chiddingstone village. I wasn’t aware that their beers were available in these containers, so I had a quick look at what was on offer, and found most were filled with Larkin’s Traditional, which is the brewery’s weakest, but most popular beer.

I noticed one contained the brewery's much more satisfying Best Bitter, but there weren’t any Porters lurking amongst the stack. After buying my stamps, I enquired as to whether Porter might be available, and discovered that whilst the shop had none in stock, they could get the brewery to drop one down for me. I duly placed my order and collected my mini-cask after work yesterday. At £22, it was a real bargain  and works out at just £2.75 a pint, assuming the cask contains 8 pints.

I set it up in the summerhouse yesterday evening, and have just tapped and poured myself a  pint. The beer is still a little hazy, but that doesn’t’ matter in a dark beer. It was well-conditioned – as Larkin’s beers normally are, but I will probably leave it another day or so, before drawing off any more.

My only previous experience of beer in mini-casks, was one I brought back from a pre-Christmas trip to Bamberg, twelve eleven years ago. It was a cask of Aecht Schlenkerla Rauchbier, the city’s legendary “Smoke beer,” and very nice it was too; certainly for the first two or three days.

The beer then slowly began to go downhill as the level of liquid in the container gradually went down. As might be expected, the amount of condition in the beer (the level of dissolved CO2), was the first thing to decline, followed slowly by a deterioration in the taste of the beer.

Lesson learned, so I will do my best to consume the contents as quickly as possible. With a beer as good as Larkin’s Porter, that shouldn’t be difficult, and as I was moaning just the other week about not having come across this beer locally this year, I’ve now got ample opportunity to get stuck in and start enjoying it.

Don't just drive on by

Have you ever driven past a pub and wanted to stop there but didn’t, because the timing wasn’t right, you were on your way somewhere else, or stopping there would have interfered with your itinerary? What if you’d driven past that pub on a more or less weekly basis?  Wouldn’t it start gnawing at your brain, after a while, and wouldn’t you just feel compelled to make time and pull over, in order to check the place out?

The pub might turn out to be an absolute duffer or, a real gem. Most likely it would be something in between. At least once you’ve checked it out you would know whether you were right in just driving by, or perhaps you’d missed an absolute corker of a place.

There’s a pub on the A25, at a place called Bessels Green; a settlement on the north-western edge of Sevenoaks, which has largely been absorbed by the town. It would be rather generous to describe Bessels Green as a village, but it does have a couple of 18^th Century churches/meeting houses, an attractive village green, plus a rather nice looking pub.

The King's Head overlooks the green, and faces across to a row of brightly coloured, painted cottages on the opposite side. This combination of village green, cottages, posh house plus pub, forms a picturesque backdrop to traffic passing through on the busy A25. Before the M25 was constructed, the A25 was a major east-west artery for traffic wishing to avoid London, whilst travelling across southern England.

I remember having to use that route myself, when I lived in Maidstone, whilst on secondment to a company based in Hounslow. The noise, congestion and the pollution, especially from the lorries that used the route, must have been horrendous, so I imagine inhabitants of the towns and villages along the way must have breathed a huge sigh of relief when the southern section of the M25 finally opened.

The King’s Head is just the type of pub I was referring to earlier, and since Mrs PBT’s and I switched our weekly supermarket shop from ASDA to Tesco, we have driven past it most weeks. I’ve commented before that we ought to stop off there, if only for a coffee, but somehow the time’s never been quite right.

All that changed at the weekend, when son Matthew and I called in; not just once though, but twice! Allow me to explain, it’s become something of a tradition for Matthew to treat his old mum and dad to a few Christmas goodies. By this I mean a contribution to the Christmas feast over-indulgence. So father and son head off to the large Tesco store at Riverhead – just the other side of Sevenoaks, and stock up on items such as a cheese selection, Christmas pudding (I never feel like eating it on Christmas day), brandy sauce/butter, various types of stuffing and the eponymous “pigs in blankets, ” where did that piece of marketing originate?

We’d planned to go last Tuesday, but for some reason decided to postpone our trip until the Friday. Mrs PBT’s was going out that evening, for a meal with members of her ante-natal group, so Matthew and I decided we could pick up the Christmas goodies, and then stop off for something to eat on the way home. He was working late that evening, so I picked him up just after 7pm, and we drove over to Tesco at Riverhead to purchase what he deemed necessary for our festive feast. I also took the opportunity of picking up a few last minute Christmas gifts.

The next question was, where should we eat? Matthew’s idea had been to drive back along the A21 towards High Brooms, where we could grab something cheap and cheerful at the Robin Hood – the local Hungry Horse outlet. I wasn’t so keen on this, for a number of reasons and it was whilst walking up and down the aisles in Tesco that I hit on the idea of stopping off just up the road in Bessel’s Green, and calling in at the King’s Head.

I knew the food offering would be good as the pub is owned and run by the same small chain as the Little Brown Jug in Chiddingstone Causeway; the village where I work. Whiting & Hammond own eight pubs spread across West Kent and East Sussex, all run with a degree of autonomy, whilst benefiting from corporate purchasing power. You can read more about the company here, but if I tell you that Brian Whiting was formerly a director at the larger, and better known pub company - Brunning & Price, you will know the type of pub we were talking about.

We headed south and then due west out of Sevenoaks, before turning of the A25 and pulling up outside the King’s Head. We were struck by the warm ambience as we entered, with a log fire blazing away to our right, and the bar straight in front of us. I don’t know the history of the pub, but I do know that it underwent a major refurbishment in the Spring of 2014.

My first question to the barman was were they still serving food? Fortunately they were, so the next decision was what drinks to go for. With a choice of Taylor’s Landlord, St Austell Proper Job and Tonbridge Countryman, I went for the Proper Job; just a half mind you. It was getting close to Christmas, I was driving and there would be plenty of idiots on the road.

The barman said to choose a table and he’d bring our drinks over and take our food order. Before sitting down we had a brief look around this multi-roomed, slightly upmarket local. There are a variety of candle-lit tables of different sizes and styles, partitioned by a couple of exposed brick fireplaces. The small and cosy bar area seemed well patronised that Friday, with a group of drinkers standing and chatting at the bar.

The time was getting on towards 9pm, and by then any hunger pangs I might have had, had vanished. I opted for the “Ultimate homemade fishcake,” which consisted of smoked salmon and haddock, combined with potato and topped with a poached egg. It was served on a substantial bed of spinach. Matthew went for a more traditional offering in the shape of the homemade “Gourmet burger,” served with skinny fries. Both were just what we required at that moment in time.

The barman told us the pub had been rammed that afternoon, catering for various groups of diners, all getting stuck into their turkey dinners. Like its sister pub, the Brown Jug, the King’s Head must cater for local companies and their staff Christmas dinner.

It was pleasantly relaxed on Friday evening though, and like with the Jug, it was good to see local people who’d obviously walked to the pub, accompanied by their dogs. Matthew and I found ourselves back at the King’s Head on Sunday morning. 

We’d originally intended to drive over to Chiddingstone Causeway for a leisurely breakfast; either at the village hall, or at the Little Brown Jug, but after experiencing flooded roads on my drive into work on Friday, and further torrential rain on Saturday, we decided to try somewhere else.

We knew that the LBJ offers a good breakfast, so we surmised that the King’s Head would do the same. It did, but only offered fried eggs, rather than the fried or scrambled option available at the Jug. I could also have done with an additional round of toast. Apart from that the full English was fine, especially as we were provided with a nice large pot filled with plenty of tea.

So after driving past all those years, and wanting to stop off for further investigation, I found myself making two visits in the space of just three days. The barman even remembered us from Friday night! The main thing about the King’s Head though is that despite the obvious food trade, the pub still caters for the casual drinker; both local as well as from further afield.

We are sailing

It’s nearly two months since the short “taster cruise” that Mrs PBT’s and I undertook, and looking back I realise I didn’t actually write much about  life on board ship or, indeed, the ship itself. So as the pair of us are looking to undertake a longer voyage in 2020, I thought I’d put together a short piece about our all too short time afloat on the Cunard Queen Elizabeth.

As mentioned in a previous post, we voyaged with Eileen’s sister and her husband, after travelling down to Southampton with them. We stayed overnight at the Premier Inn Southampton West, but have to say it wasn’t the best Premier Inn by a long shot.

I don’t wish to sound like a disgruntled reviewer, posting on Trip Advisor, but the environmental control in the room didn’t work – we had to contact reception, who provided us with a couple of plug-in electric heaters. This wasn’t a huge deal, in itself, but when I returned from reception Mrs PBT’s informed me there was no plug for the bathroom sink, and the bathroom itself wasn't as clean as it might have been.

I’ll be kind about the place, as the staff did their best, but the hotel had a very tired look about it, and was definitely in need of some tlc. A Hungry Horse outlet, called the Vine Inn was attached to the hotel but, arriving as we did, on 31^st October, the restaurant was packed out with hordes of hyped up and over-excited kids, crawling  and jumping all over the bench seating, and generally running amok in their best Halloween costumes.

The following morning, my brother-in-law drove us over to a nearby Morrison’s where we obtained a reasonably-priced breakfast, before  heading off to the pre-booked parking-compound, where we would be leaving the car for the duration of the voyage.

The in-laws had chosen Penguin Cruise Parking, who are on the opposite bank of the River Test from the Cruise Terminal. We could see the superstructure of the vessel, that was to be our home for the next two days, towering above the cranes and other port-related structures, which lined the western side of the river. After parking the car and handing over the keys, we were chauffeured over to our departure point, by min-bus.

Once deported at the Cruise Terminal, check-in was a far easier, and less rushed process than when flying. Several weeks before departure, we’d been sent pre-printed, bar-coated labels, which we’d attached to the handles of our suitcases. We were able to just hand over our cases at check-in, knowing that the next time we saw them they’d be waiting for us outside our cabin.

 We then had the border-control section, which was the only time we were required to show our passports. After this we were each issued with a credit-card sized, pass-cum-identity card. The card acts as you room key, allows you to go ashore – and return to the boat. It also enables you to make purchases onboard ship, as whilst all meals and snacks are free, alcoholic drinks and certain luxury purchases are not.

So if you fancy a bottle of wine with your meal, or a couple of beers afterward, you need to flash your card. Another point to note, US Dollars are the de-facto currency on board ship, and everything is priced accordingly. Whilst this might seem strange for a prestige British cruise line, given the trans-Atlantic or Caribbean itinerary of many Cunard cruises, it is perhaps no surprise. The other drawback of pandering to the US market, was that most of the plug sockets in our room were two-pin, American ones. We will take adapters next time!

The other benefit to the electronic key cards was there was no need to show a passport when leaving the ship; either in the cruise destination port of Zeebrugge or upon return to the UK., as the card contained all relevant passport details.

Once aboard for the first time, Mrs PBT’s and I were like a couple of excited kids. After we’d located our cabin, and dumped the hand luggage we were carrying, we set off to explore the ship, from, top to bottom and bow to stern. With a 4.30pm departure, we went up on one of the outer deck, to watch as the boat pushed away from the quayside, turned herself around and began slowly sailing down Southampton Water towards the Solent.

Alongside the in-laws, we attended the compulsory life-boat drill at our designated muster station. After that, it was time to dress for dinner and enjoy some fine dining. We’d been assigned the early sitting in the restaurant, but with hindsight, the second sitting would have been more appropriate.

Apart from splashing out on a bottle of red wine at dinner (they re-corked and saved what was left for the following evening), plus a pint of keg London Pride which my dear wife bought for me, I didn’t drink that much onboard. With tea, coffee and water freely available, there was plenty to keep me hydrated.

And now some general facts and figures about the Queen Elizabeth, for all you ship anoraks out there; surely some must exist? The liner is a Vista class cruise ship operated by the Cunard Line. The vessel was built by the Italian company Fincantieri Marghera, who are Europe’s largest shipbuilders, at their yard in Trieste.

Vista Class ships are designed so that eighty-five percent of the staterooms have ocean views and sixty-seven percent have verandas; the extensive use of glass in the superstructure is also reflected in the class name. At 92,000 GT, the Queen Elizabeth is slightly larger than her sister ship, Queen Victoria, and is able to carry up to 2,092 passengers.

Although having an almost identical interior arrangement to Queen Victoria, the décor, with its many art deco  touches is very different, and evokes the era of the 1930s, in which Cunard's first Queen Elizabeth was launched. The name of the new ship was announced on 10th October 2007, and the ship set sail on her maiden voyage on 11th October 2010.  

Right, that’s enough geeky stuff and enough about cruising for the time
being. It was a pleasure to have sailed on the Queen Elizabeth at the beginning of last month, and I look forward to undertaking a longer voyage, possibly as early as next spring.

Right to roam?

Just a short post and a bit of a rant really, but from what I’ve seen it appears I am not the only person who’s annoyed by what’s happened, and not the only one either to take the culprits to task.

I’m not talking about the alarming prospect of five years of  “Bumbling Boris,” Britain’s own tousle-headed version of Donald Trump. Instead I’m talking about something far more important, and that is the obstruction of a well-used and highly convenient footpath, close to where I work.

The path I’m referring to runs from just opposite St Luke’s Church, on the edge of Chiddingstone Causeway, to the tiny hamlet of Charcott. It is a tarmac footpath which leads across the old Penshurst airfield; a grass landing strip which saw active service during World War II, before closing shortly afterwards.

It is a well-trodden and familiar route which forms part of my regular lunchtime walk; or at least it did until a couple of weeks ago. Now, the path, whilst still open, has been given over to a herd of sheep, and although towns folk might consider these animals cuddly and lovable, they make one hell of a mess!

Sheep have pretty much always been a feature of the first field, on the right hand side of the path, and there is nothing finer than seeing the new born lambs, skipping about, each spring, without a care in the world.

So far, so good, but the other two fields, an equal sized one also on the right, and a massive one, which is the size of the other two fields combined, on the left, have always contained arable crops. These range from barley to oil seed rape, maize and turnips.

It is the latter crop that has attracted all the controversy, as turnips have been planted in the both large and small fields, but not as a food source for humans, but for our woolly-coated friends instead.

To begin with, the sheep were confined to the larger of the two turnip fields, hemmed in  by a low, electric fence. The plan, so far as there appeared to be one, was to let then eat the foliage of the turnip tops, before then uprooting the turnips themselves by a bit of nifty harrow work.

Again, this was not a problem until earlier last week, part of the electric fence was removed, allowing the sheep to roam freely between the large field on the left, and the smaller secondary one on the far left. To prevent the sheep from escaping via the public footpath, temporary gates were fitted at either end of the path, with strict instructions to the public, to keep these gates closed at all times.

Now I don’t have a problem with sheep, and will happily walk through a flock of them without fear or hindrance. What I do have a problem with is the mud they have trodden all over the normally clean tarmac footpath, along with the far more unpleasant matter that comes out of their rear ends!

This, combined with the heavy rain we have experienced in recent days, has made the path virtually impassable – certainly to any one wearing normal shoes of the type acceptable in an office environment.

Along with other colleagues of mine, who also enjoy a lunchtime stroll, I have given up on this path until the livestock is removed and the whole thing tidied up. It seems we are not alone in our annoyance, as local residents are not happy either. People who live in Charcott rely on this footpath to access the nearby Penshurst station, as well as local buses and  shop and Post Office in Chiddingstone Causeway.

One local has been so incensed by the farmer’s thoughtless action that they saw fit to affix their own laminated sign to the gate. As you can see from the photo, one angry Charcott resident has, quite rightly, castigated the thoughtless farmer/land-owner, but shaming his/her actions. The section where the farmer is brought to task over making the footpath unusable for elderly residents is very apt, as it the line stating that there has never been a gate on the footpath.

I was particularly impressed by this anonymous, public-spirited individual, and after reading they had reported the matter to Kent County Council, I decided to follow suit. KCC have a section on their website, where members of the public can report problems on rights of way, so as soon as I arrived at work this morning, I’d registered an account and reported the problem caused by the sheep.

Once you’ve registered and logged in, you have access to an interactive map, where you can highlight the path in question (every footpath in the county has its own unique code, which makes things much easier).

I was really impressed to have received a response by mid-afternoon, and a positive one at that. I was informed that their Public Rights of Way Department have inspected the problem and are working with the land owner/manager responsible to resolve the problem. They went on to say that the gates and cable should be removed within 24 hours, and the path cleaned and fencing put back along the sides of the path to keep the sheep off the path.

Now that’s what I call a result, and whilst I suspect they acted following the initial complainant’s report, mine must have helped to spur them into action. I shall wait and see whether the farmer is as good as his word. It’s good to know too, that the local authority take these matters seriously, so that all Kent residents, as well as visitors, can enjoy unfettered access along the county’s footpaths.

 As well as being well-used by inhabitants of both Chiddingstone Causeway and Charcott, several of my work colleagues also use the path at lunchtime. Like me they will be pleased to the livestock properly fenced in, and the path cleaned up.

Double booked before Christmas

Well with just six and a half working days to go before the long Christmas break, it’s time to relax and chill out a little. I mentioned it somewhere – on the Beer & Pubs Forum, now I think about it, that the past fortnight had been pretty intense on the work front, with two back-to-back audits to contend with.

We’d been expecting one of these audits, and in fact actually welcomed it when a date was proposed. This was despite the event clashing with our works' Christmas buffet. I won’t go into too much detail, but a little background information might help to emphasise the importance of this audit.

My company manufactures dental materials. These are classed as Medical Devices, primarily because fillings, used to repair a partially decayed tooth, tend to remain in the body for a substantial amount of time. The same applies to dental cements, used to secure crowns and bridges in place.

All our products carry a CE Mark, which enables them to be exported and sold all over the world. To obtain this accreditation we have to be assessed by a “notified body”, who are in effect organisations with the wherewithal to inspect and verify that companies like ours, conform to internationally recognised standards. In our case, that standard is ISO 13485, which covers Medical Devices.

Back in February, our NB gave just four weeks notice that they were withdrawing support for Medical Devices; a move which left dozens of companies, like us, without cover. Fortunately the UK Medicines and Healthcare products Regulatory Agency (MHRA), which is the government agency responsible for regulating all medicines and medical devices, stepped in and threw us a lifeline, by endorsing our continued CE accreditation.

This was only a temporary measure, and the onus was on us, and other affected companies, to secure accreditation with another recognised notified body. We sourced and approached a suitable replacement, but after a promising start, earlier in the year, things went very quiet. You can imagine then our relief when we received notice on the Monday, that our new NB proposed carrying out our re-certification audit on the Thursday and Friday of the same week.

As alluded to earlier, we jumped at this offer, despite it clashing with our Friday afternoon Christmas bun-feast. Preparations for what we knew would be an intensive process, were well underway when who should turn up, un-announced on the Wednesday, but two auditors, from a different NB, who’d come to conduct an audit on behalf of one of our European customers.

We had no choice but to let them in to conduct their investigation, even though our QA and regulatory resource were already heavily involved preparing for our all important “re-certification audit” at the end of the week.

Fortunately we emerged relatively unscathed from both inspections but, as you can imagine, they were pretty intense and also rather tiring. Both audits involved two inspectors, who operated along the lines of “good cop, bad cop.” So with a constant stream of questions to answer, or various supporting paperwork requested, it really was a case of constantly thinking on ones feet, and making sure you kept all you wits about you.

Our staff Christmas “do” took place at the Greyhound in Charcott, just over ten minutes walk away from the factory. It was a buffet affair, and the pub put on a really good spread for us. The event was in full swing when a colleague and I arrived shortly after 2.30pm, having been “excused” by the auditors. Fortunately there was still plenty of food remaining, and the home-made sausage rolls, plus hot scotch eggs, with runny yolks, were particularly enjoyable.

There were four cask ales on tap from the likes of Ballard’s, Brumaison, Three Legs and Titsey. The latter are yet another new brewery that has popped up recently in this corner of Kent, the name coming from Titsey House, a posh country retreat that I’d never heard of, until last year.

I deliberately asked for two pints of Leveson Buck, which still didn’t prevent the barman’s  rather silly, schoolboy quip of, “I thought you were going to ask for two Titseys!” as he pulled up a couple of pints for us late arrivals. There were shades here of last month’s great Shifnall mix-up, which occurred over what constitutes a pint of bitter

Neither of us were impressed with the Leveson Buck, so we moved onto the Brumaison BB. It was perfectly drinkable and in good condition, but somehow it too didn’t hit the spot. I don’t think I tried the Ballard’s, although I perhaps should have done, given the brewery’s longevity. Founded  in 1980, Ballard’s beers are now brewed at the Greyhound Brewery, in West Chiltington, Sussex, following the retirement of the company's original founders.

The 4.5% Oatmeal Stout, from the Three Legs Brewing Co, was the best of the cask beers I tried that afternoon, although perhaps a little heavy for a lengthy session.  Back in February, Retired Martin and I called in at the brewery tap, which is situated on the edge of the village of Broad Oak, to the west of Rye. This was the first time since our visit that I’ve seen Three Legs beers on sale, anywhere.

Later in the evening, I moved onto Hofmeister, clean, refreshing and with just the right balance of malt and hops, this Bavarian-brewed Helles, was the most enjoyable beer of the session, taken as a whole.

This year was the first time our Christmas party has not involved a sit-down meal. There was a feeling that the less formal approach of a help-yourself buffet worked well, as it allowed people to mingle and socialise. As in previous years, the company paid for the food and ran a tab behind the bar. There was though, the strict proviso of no shots!

I left just before 8pm, walking back across the former Penshurst airfield, to the station, and the train home to Tonbridge. Despite the late start, it was an enjoyable Christmas “do,” and it was good for us to be supporting a local, family-owned enterprise.