Wot no micro?? Actually, there is one now!

I was carrying out a spot of maintenance on the blog earlier, when I came across a draft post, dating from November 2019. For some reason I didn’t publish it, so I thought I might as well let it see the light of day, now. The post is still relevant, and the only thing that has changed is that West Kent does now have its own micro-pub, in Edenbridge, called the Secret Cask. I haven’t visited, but the reports from friends an acquaintances who have, are favourable. There is no website for readers to refer to, but take a look on What Pub for further details.

One thing which is peculiar to this part of Kent; certainly when compared to other parts of the county, is the complete absence of any micro-pubs. Given that the micro-pub “phenomena” originated in Kent, there is not a single example amongst the four towns (Edenbridge, Sevenoaks, Tonbridge and Tunbridge Wells), which make up this corner of West Kent.

The nearest micro-pubs are in Gravesend, Maidstone, and Petts Wood, but none of these destinations are exactly on the doorstep, so unless inhabitants of this locality, fancy embarking on a bus or a train journey for their micro-pub fix, they are well and truly stuffed.

Tonbridge came quite close to getting a micro, a couple of years ago, but after taking the option of a lease on a vacant small shop at the north end of the High Street, and obtaining a Premises License, the potential proprietor got cold feet and aborted the project. The former shop is now an art gallery, and as far as I am aware is doing OK: not that Tonbridge is known as a centre for the arts!

Fortunately we now have our own branch of Fuggles; ironically not too far away from the aborted micro-pub, but Fuggles operates as a full-blown pub, along the same lines as the highly successful Tunbridge Wells original, and is therefore not a micro-pub.

Sky-high property prices may be partly to blame for the lack of micro-pubs, particularly when they manifest themselves in the form of high rental values. But at the moment there are a lot of empty shops, especially in Tonbridge and Tunbridge Wells, and I don’t see the situation improving anytime soon. Most of these shops are units in shopping centres - such as Royal Victoria Place, in Tunbridge Wells, so the rents are likely to be way beyond what most wanna-be micro-pub owners could afford. They are also on the large side, so the likelihood of a micro-pub opening are pretty slim. The uncertainty surrounding Brexit, which has followed from Cameron’s reckless referendum gamble, is not helping either.

Something tells me I ought to be disappointed by the lack of a true micro-pub in the area, but strangely I don’t, and whilst I think the basic concept is sound, I don’t see it as a panacea for the ills currently afflicting the pub trade. My micro-pub experiences have largely been confined to Thanet and Gravesend, and whilst I have visited some excellent establishments, particularly in East Kent, I have been in one or two real duds.

I feel that the guidelines set out by the Micro-PubAssociation, are too rigid; even though I accept they are laid out that way in order to encourage a particular clientele and discourage various other sorts. I am also not a huge fan of the really tiny ones, where if someone wants to visit the Gents, everyone has to make way for them; or if you turn round too quickly you are likely to knock someone’s pint out of their hands.

Also, whilst I am normally quite a gregarious individual, there are times when I prefer my own company, and to sit quietly and read a book, or just watch the world go by. You could say, “Don’t go into such places when you’re feeling grumpy or unsociable,” and of course you would be right, but as a micro-pub will often provide the best selection and most unusual selection of beers within a town, there is often nowhere else suitable to go.

Micro-pubs are also known for not doing food; certainly nothing beyond basic snacks such as filled rolls, pork pies or scotch eggs. Again, for many people, this is a big plus point, and as someone who frequents pubs a lot less frequently than I once did, it’s not really incumbent on me to dictate the food offering; even though I am likely to want something more substantial to help soak up the beer.

So should the famous “model”  based on the Butcher’s Arms at Herne remain the gold standard for a true micro, or is here scope for enhancement and improvement? Personally, whilst I would like the emphasis to remain on locally sourced, cask-ales, I see no reason why a couple of slightly more adventurous “key-keg” beers could not be stocked. Also, why not stock a couple of genuine, continental Pilsners, which would keep lager drinkers happy, without attracting the Stella, Fosters and Carling “lout” drinkers. I also don’t see a problem with offering a small range of quality malt whiskies or artisan gins and vodkas. Then there are the wine drinkers of course, and here something rather better than Cash & Carry, “bag-in-a-box” plonk, wouldn’t go amiss.

On reflection, I would leave the food offering alone, as not only would it be impractical, as well as financially unviable, to employ a chef, most micro-pubs aren’t large enough (yes I know the clue is in the name) and besides, the smell of cooking is enough to put many drinkers off.

So perhaps with a bit of tweaking, Paul’s “enhanced” micro-pub could be the way forward. Or perhaps not!

Same old, same old

It was back to work for me yesterday, but only for a couple of days. It was good to catch up with colleagues after the long Christmas - New Year break, but I must admit I’m feeling quite lethargic, at the moment.

It’s probably something to do with the time of year, but just in case it was something more sinister, I performed a lateral-flow test at home, yesterday morning. Fortunately, it turned out negative, but regular testing for Covid, is not a route I want to go down. Some people seem obsessed with the idea though, testing themselves every time they leave the house – even if they’re just popping out for a loaf of bread. Small wonder that lateral-flow test kits are in short supply!

Moving swiftly on, the lethargy has extended to blogging, but here I think it’s more a question of finding something novel and new o write about, instead of repeating stuff from the past. As an example of this, I started writing about Dry January, before realising I had written similar pieces about giving up the booze in 2015, 2019 & 2020. So, not wishing to repeat myself, or bore my readers, I aborted the piece.

This got me thinking and looking for other examples of a season-related theme cropping up on an annual basis. I didn’t have to look far, as “Old Ales” crop up in 2015, 2015, 2018, 2019 & 2021, proving just how seasonal some topics are – or how predictable I am becoming!

So, with nothing much new to write about, at the moment, I will sign off in a moment, and look for inspiration elsewhere.  The forecast is looking half decent for tomorrow, so a walk down into Tonbridge and around the Sportsground, might be in order. It will certainly help blow the cobwebs away, and who knows, I might just have to call in somewhere for a swift pint – Old Ale, of course, which means I won't be doing Dry January!

 

2021 - The Year in Beer

Ladies and gentlemen, boys, and girls, here at last is my review of 2021, from the perspective of the themes of beer and travel. As with the preceding year, 2021 was very much a year disrupted by the Coronavirus known as Covid-19, and the impact this pesky little piece of RNA had upon everyone’s plans, dreams, and general well-being, to say nothing of their general lives, is something that cannot be over-estimated.

 The year got off to a poor start, with pubs, bars, restaurants, leisure clubs and other indoor places where people gather to socialise, shut for the first quarter of the year. The one ray of sunshine that seemingly offered a way out of this mess, was the development and roll-out of a number of anti-Covid vaccinations.

Being of a certain age, Mrs PBT’s and I received our first dose at the start of February, followed by our second shot at the end of April. That wasn’t the end of it, though as we both received “booster injections” in mid-November. Throughout 2021, the virus continued playing cat and mouse, with the emergence of a number of “variants” that were different from the strain that first appeared in Wuhan at the end of 2019. We have therefore seen alpha, delta and now omicron variants, each one more infectious than the previous, as the virus continues to evolve and mutate. 

 It is too early to say how this is all going to end, and I’m certainly not going to make any rash predictions. I will though, be following the science, and by that, I mean observing the continuing research into Covid-19 that is taking place, as opposed to the “pseudo-science” conducted by the doom-mongering mathematical modelers of SAGE, who seem determined to always present the worst-case scenario.

On a deeply personal note, I lost my dear old dad on 6^th January, (Twelfth Night). He was six months short of his 90^th birthday, and whilst his death was attributed to Covid, the family’s belief was advancing Alzheimer’s was the prime cause of his death, rather than Coronavirus. As one of the two executors of dad’s will, I was left to make the funeral arrangements, and to start sorting the estate out. This is because the other executor was the elder of my two sisters, and she lives in the United States.  

The funeral took place at  the Breckland Crematorium, at Scoulton, just outside the Norfolk town of Watton, which is close to where my parents spent the last quarter century of their lives. With strict lock-down procedures in place, there were equally strict rules governing the funeral. Sadly, the only people in attendance, apart from the funeral directors and staff, were my immediate family and that of my younger sister.

There was no wake and nowhere in which to meet up after the service. With restaurants closed and hotel accommodation severely restricted by Covid regulations, the Bailey contingent drove up to Watton and back, on the same day, as did my sister and her family, who live in Nottingham.  I then had the complicated task of settling dad’s estate, a matter I placed in the hands of a local solicitor. It took until August before the estate was eventually wound up and the beneficiaries paid out, and from what I understand that was pretty good going!

By April, the UK government felt sufficiently confident to begin a gradual easing of restrictions, in their so-called “Roadmap out of lock-down.” People were allowed to gather in outdoor settings, such as pub gardens, or restaurants equipped with similar facilities.  Fortunately, April was a mainly dry month, but it was definitely on the cold side!  

I recall meeting up with group of friends, in the garden of the Nelson Arms, Tonbridge, a few days after my birthday. It was fine all the time the sun was shining, but as soon as it began to set, the temperatures nose-dived, and I was certainly glad to have brought some extra layers of clothing along, to keep out the cold. The following month, my wife met up with a group of friends for an outdoor meal – postponed from Christmas 2020. It was equally cold that evening, so a number of environmentally unfriendly space-heaters, strategically placed around the pub garden came into their own. 

The programme of tentative re-opening was extended to allow customers to eat and drink in an indoor setting, but with table service only. It wasn’t until July that restrictions were finally lifted, completely, and customers were allowed to mingle freely, buy their own drinks at the bar, and even drink there if desired. 

 In mid-April, I passed a major milestone in my life, by reaching state retirement age, qualifying, on top of my pension, for a pass entitling me to free bus travel. Six months later, I switched to part-time working, along with a new position. I now work just three days a week and am enjoying my newfound sense of freedom.

 The highlight of the year for both Mrs PBT’s and I was a four-night cruise to Liverpool and back, on the Queen Elizabeth. This was part of the Cunard group’s “return to cruising” programme, which involved a number of strict anti-Covid protocols. 

 These included a requirement for all passengers to be double-vaccinated, the wearing of masks in communal indoor settings, and the ability to demonstrate a negative lateral-flow test, prior to boarding. The ship didn’t leave UK territorial waters, and passengers were only allowed off the vessel at Liverpool, on pre-booked excursions.

None of this mattered to Eileen and me as it was just nice to get away from it all, whilst enjoying being pampered onboard ship.  Beer-wise, I brought a stash of cans onboard with me, Pilsner Urquell and Hawkshead Pale, to supplement the rather expensive beers available on the ship. There was a range of three beers, specially brewed for Cunard by Wiltshire-based, Dark Revolution. These were well worth trying despite the premium price, with the Cunard Black – Biscotti Breakfast Stout, worthy of special mention.. 

 The four nights we spent on the Queen Elizabeth, plus the night in Winchester, prior to sailing, represented the only time away from home, during 2021. That represents an all-time low for me as, although I managed to get some walking in, and finished several more sections along North Downs Way, unlike the previous year there were no overnight stops.

Whilst on the subject of hiking, and long-distance footpaths, I treated myself to a new pair of boots. New footwear was something that was long-overdue, as the soles had parted company from the uppers of my decade old, trusty pair of Trespass boots. I really splashed out, this time around, opting for a pair of hand-crafted, leather Bhutan boots from legendary Bavarian boot-makers, Meindl. Given the outlay involved, I also took the trouble of getting my feet measured and having the boots properly fitted at a well-known Outdoor Clothing chain of stores. 

 There were two more highlights to 2021, the first one being the “Codgers’” trip to Stockport, for a “Proper Day Out.” This represented my first long-distance rail trip for 18 months – the last one having taken place about three weeks prior to country going into lock-down. That too was a “Proper Day Out” with Burton-on-Trent the destination.

Local blogger, Pub Curmudgeon, aka Mudge, was our guide, leading us on a circular tour of some of Stockport’s finest hostelries. In a town dominated by Robinson’s Brewery, the latter’s beers obviously featured prominently on the schedule, but for me it was good to visit a couple of Samuel Smiths’ pubs, as well. Sam’s only cask offering, Old Brewery Bitter (from wooden casks, mind you), isn’t to everyone’s taste, but I have long been a fan, and the chance to enjoy a few pints, in some unspoilt pubs was an experience not to be missed.

We also visited a Holt’s pub, plus the Petersgate Tap – a modern free house, offering an interesting selection of both cask and craft beers. A hearty, filling and keenly priced pub lunch was also enjoyed by the majority of us, at the Arden Arms, a 19^th Century, brick-built pub, boasting three rooms, and a reputation for good food.

The visit to Stockport, allowed me to wallow in a bit of nostalgia, as for awhile I had lived in nearby Romiley, during my student days. It was over four decades since I had last set foot in Stockport, and whilst much had changed, there was still sufficient that was familiar, and which reminded me of those earlier times. The return rail journey too was enjoyable, despite having to wear a face-covering, and I am looking forward to many more such journeys, as well as days out, once our dalliance with this latest strain of Covid-19 is out of the way.

The other highlight for both Mrs PBT’s and I was seeing Sir Tom Jones performing live at Paddock Wood Hop Farm. Tom put on an amazing performance, demonstrating that at 81 years of age, he still hasn’t lost it. If anything, his voice appeared more powerful than ever, and his stage presence was unquestionable. He opened with a couple of numbers from the start of his career, What’s New Pussycat, It’s Not Unusual and Green, Green Grass of Home, before moving onto some newer material, such as Sex Bomb, and She’s a Lady.

The climax of the performance for us both though was Tom’s stunning rendition of Delilah. The band really pulled out all the stops as well for this number, and I have to say that they too, were amazing.  Tom had certainly gathered together some world class musicians, to act as his backing groups, and as if to compliment the virtuoso players, the sound quality was crisp and crystal clear.

The final two and a half months of the year have been spent enjoying my extended leisure time. I have carried out a few, small-scale home improvements and, for the first time since I can’t remember when, I am more or less up to date with the garden. In addition, as mentioned earlier, I knocked of a few more sections of the North Downs Way.

Son Matthew and I enjoyed a full-on, father and son day out in London, during which we visited three classic pubs, listed on CAMRA’s National Inventory. We had a pub lunch at one of the pubs, the Salisbury, close to Covent Garden, and also walked our socks off, taking in sights which varied from Hays Galleria, Tower Bridge, St James’s Palace, and Kings Cross station.

A month or so later I returned to the capital for the British Guild of Beer Drinkers’ Awards Dinner. Held in the lavish surroundings of the Institution of Civil Engineering, at One Great George Street, in the shadow of the Houses of Parliament,  the evening provided the chance to catch up with other Guild members, along with fine-dining and ample supplies of beer.

With beers carefully chosen to match the food, it was two offerings from north of the border that really stood out.  Wolf Dark Scottish Ale 6.0%, from Windswept Brewing of Lossiemouth, went really well with the main course of roast lamb rump, whilst the Waiting for the Rain 11% Imperial Stout, from Loch Lomond Brewery was a good, but high-octane match for the dessert of chocolate fondant with morello cherry compote dessert.

The following afternoon I attended my company’s Christmas dinner, in the slightly less opulent setting of the Little Brown Jug, at Chiddingstone Causeway. There was more excellent food on offer although after the previous evening’s excesses, I went very easy on the beer. After missing out last Christmas, due to the pandemic, it was good to spend time with colleagues, enjoying each other’s company, in a non- work-related setting.

Finally, unlike pre-pandemic times, there are no special category awards, loosely-based around the “Golden Pints“ idea that has been running for the past 10 years or more. There is still a:

Best Day Out - Stockport.

Best Location(s) to Enjoy a Beer - Elephant’s Head, Hook Green & Rock Inn, Chiddingstone Hoath.

Best New Pub Find - Miner's Arms, Dunton Green. 

Best Beer on Home Turf - Harvey’s Sussex Best, but that’s about it.

As for 2022, after the past two years I’m keeping my mouth shut and saying nothing. I’m sure I’m not the only person who’s thinking this way, either!

 

A classic, Victorian, street-corner local - the Garland at Redhill

I’m still not in the mood for completing my review of 2021, so this piece, about the cracking little boozer, I made a brief visit to yesterday will have to do instead. It demonstrates all that is good about traditional pubs, and encapsulates the joy of that spontaneous, “spur of the moment” visit.

The renowned Sussex brewers, Harvey & Sons of Lewes, have 45 tied houses, spread across Southeast England, with the majority concentrated in East Sussex. The company operate three pubs in London, and slightly more in Kent, but as far as I am aware, there is only one tied Harvey’s pub in Surrey.

That pub is the Garland, in the rather work-a-day town of Redhill, just under nine miles distance from Gatwick Airport. I had known of the Garland’s existence for several years, but somehow never managed to visit it, so when I found myself in Redhill yesterday, with just under an hour to kill, it seemed the perfect opportunity to put that right.

I was on my way home, by train, after a morning spent hiking across the top of  Box Hill, as part of my ongoing efforts to complete North Downs Way, long-distance footpath. You can read about my walk here but having decided to leave the last two miles of that particular section for another day, I caught the train from Dorking to Redhill, from where I would be able to take another train home to Tonbridge.

Unfortunately, the trains didn’t connect very well, and as the service from Dorking pulled into Redhill station, I witnessed the one to Tonbridge, pulling away from the opposite platform. The next train to Tonbridge wasn’t due for another hour, which provided the perfect opportunity for a quick, “in-between trains” pint. The question was, with a number of pubs to go for, which one should I choose?’

As my train pulled into Redhill, I had already noticed one possible candidate, in the form of the Home Cottage, a Young’s pub, on a hill, overlooking the station. In the early days of West Kent CAMRA, it was quite common for branch members to take the train from Tonbridge to Redhill, for an evening’s drinking at the Home Cottage. On several occasions, we met up with members from the neighbouring Reigate & Redhill branch, for a joint social.

A return visit seemed long overdue, but whilst I was contemplating that, another idea was taking shape in my mind, which of course was a visit to the Garland. A quick check on What Pub and Google Maps confirmed the pub was only seven minutes’ walkway, so off I went, pleased in the knowledge that the Garland was much closer to Redhill station, than I had thought. I saw the pub as soon as I passed under the bridge, where the line from Dorking comes in, and made a beeline for this classic Victorian, street corner local.

There is always that mixed feeling of excitement and anticipation, that comes when you enter an unfamiliar pub for the first time. I felt exactly that as I climbed the steps up from the street and stepped into the pub. The bar was directly in front of me, but seat back a fair way from the entrance. To my left was a table occupied by around five to six drinkers, all male and engaging in what seemed to be some good-natured banter. There was a single male drinker, sat at the bar, plus one other solitary customer, over to the right.

I did my usual, quick visual scan of the bar, noticing the availability of Dark Mild, IPA and XXX Old Ale, all Harvey’s beers, of course, as one would expect in one of the brewery’s tied pubs. It was the Old Ale I was after, as it only seems available in Harvey’s own houses, and my desire of this classic, seasonal dark ale, that formed a major part in my decision to seek out the Garland.

I stood watching with keen anticipation, as the barman pulled my pint. It certainly looked inviting as it was place on the counter in front of me. I took hold of it and made my way to a table in the opposite corner of the pub, keen to take the weight off my feet after the exertions of the morning’s hike.  The Old was certainly true to form, and in very good condition. I supped it with the thirst of a man who felt he had really deserved that pint, but not with the speed of a person who thinks he can squeeze in another.

I didn’t want to miss the train again, so after savouring the remainder of my glass, I drank up, ready to depart. Before doing so I listened with amusement to the conversations going on at the table to my left. I got the impression that the group were motorcycle enthusiasts, as bikes seemed to be the main topic of conversation, but there was another moment of pure pub theatre when the barman wandered over to their table and took the order for another round of drinks.

The barman was quite nattily dressed, with silk-waistcoat and a bow-tie. He asked the group if they had noticed he was dressed for a special occasion; the occasion being the seeing in of the New Year, later that evening.  They of course had and complemented him on his sartorial elegance. One drinker said they might well surprise him later, by dressing up themselves.

I would guess that the gentleman in question was several years older than myself, and when I returned my empty glass, he wished me a pleasant evening. I felt a short explanation, as to my reasons for visiting the Garland was in order, so after also wishing me a safe journey home, he expressed a desire to see me again, should I ever find myself stranded at Redhill station.

It was a nice touch and to me was the mark of a true professional behind the bar. It also strengthened my desire to make a return visit to this fine example of an unspoilt, 19^th Century, corner local.