Re-visiting the Bourne Valley

Last Friday’s trip made use of the 222 bus, operated by Autocar. It is a service the local CAMRA group and I have used in the past, and it runs between Tonbridge and Borough Green. It also runs to Tunbridge Wells a couple of times a day, but this seems to be connected with the school run.

There were three pubs on our schedule that day, starting with an old favourite, and ending with one that we don’t often manage to visit. It was a lovely sunny day, with hardly a cloud in the sky, as we boarded the 11.22 bus in Tonbridge. There was a reasonable number of people on board, apart from ourselves, which is encouraging given the looming threat of cuts to bus services.

We alighted from the bus on the edge of the hamlet of Dunks Green, right outside the Kentish Rifleman – our first pub of the day, and the one we would be spending the most amount of time at. As I mentioned earlier, this attractive 16^th Century pub is a long-time favourite and one we have visited on numerous occasions, but only once before by bus. Previous visits have normally involved walking uphill from Hadlow, towards the slopes of the Bourne Valley, and then cutting across to Dunk’s Green.

The Rifleman is a very difficult pub to photograph as the sun is invariably behind the building making the chances of a decent photo almost impossible, and given the conditions on Friday, the same applied. Inside the pub, there is a long room at the front, which serves as a public bar, with another room behind. This also has access to the bar-counter/serving area, but then leading off to the right, and behind the centrally placed chimney breast, is a further room still, which serves as a dining area.

The pub opens at 11.30, so arriving 15 minutes later there was still plenty of room inside. Given the fine weather we opted to sit in the garden, although as the lawn had been re-seeded, we were directed to a marquee at the back, that had been erected on the patio. The landlord advised us that those of us wishing to eat (all of us), would be wise to order sooner, rather than later, as they were expecting several parties of visitors that lunchtime.

There were four cask beers on sale – one too many as we subsequently discovered, and these were Harvey’s Best, Tonbridge Traditional, Old Dairy Blue Top and Pig & Porter Jumping Frog. I had a half of the Tonbridge, plus the Pig & Porter beer, before ending up with a pint of Harvey’s.  All were very good, so when one member of the group announced that the Blue Top wasn’t at its best, I felt somewhat relieved not to have chosen it. However, it does begs the question, is four one cask ale too many?

Food-wise, I opted for the homemade, steak & ale pie – somewhat predictably, although only after checking that it was a “proper pie.” I do think that the message has got through on this issue, as the infamous casseroles with pastry lids, masquerading as pies, now seem few and far between – good! Served with new potatoes, gravy, plus a selection of seasonal vegetables it was not too filling, but just the right amount. As the lunchtime wore on, all these areas started to fill up, mainly with diners, but their number did include a good sprinkling of drinkers.

After a most pleasant stay, where we witnessed the Kentish Rifleman as busy as I can remember, it was time to move. We thanked the staff and moved outside to wait for the bus. The sun was still problematic as far as photography was concerned, but the thing that really amazed us, was the row of parked cars stretching out down the hill, as far as we could see.

One member of our party remarked that it was a shame that some of these customers didn’t think to travel to the Rifleman by bus, but as another replied, fuel prices will have to rise far more steeply, than at present, for people to even contemplate abandoning their cars.

The second pub was just a five-minute ride away, in the nearby village of Plaxtol. We were somewhat surprised when the bus came into view, to discover it was a double-deck vehicle, particularly in view of the narrowness of some of the lanes on this route. We flagged it down, and the tour leader asked the young driver if we could be dropped off outside the pub, rather than at the official stop, which is the church, at the top of the hill. “No problem,” was the reply, although still somewhat amused to have picked up six passengers in such a rural location.

The Papermaker’s Arms, is an imposing Victorian building that is now the only pub left in a village that once boasted seven, and it seemed to have had something of a makeover since the last time I visited. That occasion was over a decade previously, and despite my initial surprise at the alterations, they seem to have worked, and if anything, the Papermaker’s seems more popular than ever.

The interior has been divided into two, by a sleeper wall, with a dining area to the left and the bar, plus drinking space to the right. Timothy Taylor’s Landlord and Larkin’s Traditional were the beers on sale, although I couldn’t help noticing the hand pulls were dwarfed by the line-up of oversized keg fonts dominating the bar counter. The two girls behind the bar were pleasant and friendly, and appeared to have everything well under control.

The Landlord was "drinking well," as the saying goes, and it was standing room only in the bar area. Contrast this with the dining area, where only a couple of tables were occupied, although to be fair, the area of raised decking at the rear of the pub, was well occupied – hardly surprising in view of the fine weather. Checking back on the photos I took during my previous visit, the decking wasn’t there, and neither was the car park, but I didn’t get a chance to see whether the rather pretty and rustic looking garden at the far rear of the plot was still in existence. We only had a half hour at the Papermaker’s before the return bus was due, but we saw enough to confirm that the pub was thriving.

It’s worth noting that this part of Kent, which is known as the Bourne Valley, was formerly a centre for paper-making, on a pre-industrial scale. The area takes its name from the stream which flows through its midst, so given Plaxtol’s association with this once thriving industry, the Papermaker’s Arms is a highly appropriate reminder of this trade.

We waited outside for the return bus, which took us on to the final pub of the day – the Chaser, at Shipbourne. Apart from the parish church, and the adjacent pub, Shipbourne has the appearance of a village without an obvious centre, but the large open space opposite the pub, which is where the bus dropped us, is popular with walkers and others who appreciate the great outdoors.

Judging by the number of parked cars, we expected the Chaser to be bursting at the seams, but it is a rather large pub, with an equally large garden, and given the warm weather, many customers were enjoying a spot of early spring sunshine. We made our way indoors, and after traversing the rooms at the front of the building, reached the centrally located serving area.

This was only my third visit to the Chaser, a pub which takes its name from the racehorses that are trained and stabled at the nearby Fairlawne Estate. The Chaser is part of the Whiting & Hammond group, a small, local chain of slightly upmarket food-oriented pubs. One of the company’s other pubs is the Little Brown Jug, just 10 minutes’ walk away from where I work in the linear village of Chiddingstone Causeway.

Comparing the two, it is relatively easy to spot a common thread, although I should add that pubs within the group are permitted a fair degree of autonomy. The beer range at the Chaser was certainly interesting with Musket Ball Puller, and Gun Brewery Chummy Bluster, complementing local favourite, Larkin’s Traditional.

We took our beers through to the front room at the far-left corner of the pub, and for a while had the place to ourselves. My pint of Musket beer was very good, demonstrating that beers from this brewery, who are based just outside Linton, to the south of Maidstone, have improved in quality over the past few years.

This final session afforded the perfect opportunity of catching up with friends, most of whom I hadn’t seen since before Christmas. Like me they’d been slowly resurfacing and getting back into the swing of things, although again like myself, two of them had also had Covid. It’s fair to say that all of us remain thankful that the vaccines had mitigated the worst effects of the virus, allowing us to get back on with our lives after a relatively brief period of isolation.

Being a CAMRA outing, most of the group were discussing the weekend’s forthcoming Good Beer Guide selection meeting, but not having to attend such an event was, as far as I was concerned a real bonus and yet another reason to be thankful!  We caught the 15.29 bus back to Tonbridge, where five of us decided to give the recently rennovated, Ivy House a try. There’s not a huge amount to report, although I might post a short article at a later date. Spoiler alert – the pub is still operating a table service regime –  you have been warned!

 

A brief catch-up

I went on another bus trip yesterday, and it’s almost as though these days out, by public transport, have become a regular Friday event. Yesterday’s trip was organised by West Kent CAMRA, and whilst I am no longer a member of the Campaign for Real Ale, I am still on their mailing list, and receive regular updates along with their newsletter.

Prior to lock-down, the branch introduced these end of the week bus trips as a means of getting out into parts of the branch area that were either difficult, or even impossible to reach during the evening. I am referring of course, to being able to reach outlying locations by public transport, and whilst this provides a reasonable service during the day, public transport is nearly always, non-existent at night. The situation doesn’t really apply to rail services, as these tend to run well into the evening, but on the other hand, trains run to far fewer places than buses

By their very nature, the daytime CAMRA bus trips cater mainly for retired, or otherwise non-working people, with those in the former category usually having bus passes as well. This is where I come in, and whilst I have missed a few trips recently, due to them clashing with other events, I am happy to join my former CAMRA colleagues in visiting some of these outlying pubs, wherever possible.

Yesterday’s trip took in three pubs to the north of Tonbridge, including one that afforded the opportunity of a spot of lunch. Full details will be revealed in a separate post, but the really positive thing which struck all six of us who took part in the trip, was how busy all the three pubs were.The fine weather may have had something to do with it, but we got the impression that this wasn’t the overriding factor. Their popularity might have been down to the day of the week – Friday, but again I feel this was a minor factor, rather than a major one.

The previous day saw Mrs PBT’s and I making a trip to IKEA. The Swedish store has two outlets within relatively close distance to Bailey Towers, namely Croydon and Lakeside. We opted for the latter, as it allowed me to use my Dartford Crossing account – last used in February 2021! It is only a 30-mile/30-minute journey, but I know from the times I used to travel to Norfolk that congestion at the approaches to the Dartford Tunnel, can often considerably increase this time. Also, as Friday is invariably the worst day of the week for travelling, it made sense to schedule our visit for a Thursday.

Luck was on our side for both outward and return trips, although it is usually the former where the hold-ups occur. The stretch where the A2 joins the northbound M25 is normally a notorious bottleneck, but on Thursday we were able to maintain the 60mph speed limit. Remembering to take the older, left-hand bore, we were through the tunnel in next to no time, and after negotiating the numerous roundabouts at Thurrock, were driving into the car park at IKEA.

IKEA was also devoid of the crowds which normally plague the place – families on a cheap day, whilst their kids run amuck around the store. We therefore felt at ease ditching the face-coverings because as one HSE official said to me the other day, distance and ventilation are the key factors in reducing the risk of infection, far more so than surface disinfection.

Unfortunately, the replacement office chair that Mrs PBT’s selected, was out of stock when we reached the warehouse area on the lower floor. That didn’t stop her from buying various plants, associated pots, plus one or two other items “that might come in handy.” The psychologists responsible for the layout of the store are rather clever in that respect.

We had to go for a meal, of course, and what could be more IKEA and more Swedish than meatballs? Priced at just £5.50 per plate, Eileen had chips with hers, whilst I went for the healthier (slightly), mashed potato. Topped off with peas and gravy the meal was tasty and satisfying, without being over-filling. There was a decent cup of coffee, priced at £1.50, to finish up with, and then surprise, surprise, as we joined the queues downstairs for the checkouts, what should be lurking in one of the freezers, but packs of frozen Swedish meatballs. (We picked up two packs, as you do).

Continuing the "cheap coffee theme" for a moment, earlier that morning, I broke my boycott of Wetherspoons by calling in for one of their coffees. I had an appointment at the barbers, and needed some change, in order to tip the hairdresser – see my post on tipping, and reluctant to fork out three quid for a Costa (nice though they are), a £1.20 refillable coffee from Spoons would provide both the change plus the caffeine fix I needed.

With time of the essence, I went for the take-out option, so no refill, but it did allow me the chance to sit down and enjoy my drink, in a sunny spot, next to the river. Pensioners enjoying a coffee or two, seemed to make up the majority of the Humphrey Bean’s customers that morning, but with just a fleeting visit to go by, perhaps I missed the usual early morning Stella drinkers.

I did stop to take a few photos of the set-up, close to the bar, promoting their forthcoming Beer Festival. The pub was also celebrating 12 consecutive years in the Good Beer Guide, so it must be doing something right as far as the CAMRA’s are concerned! It’s still not my scene though, but to be fair the Bean certainly provides a thriving and useful amenity for the local community, and guess what? There wasn’t a mobility scooter in sight, inside or out!

I shall sign off there, as you won’t want to read about my haircut!

A ride, by bus, along the edge of the forest

Friday just gone, saw yours truly heading off on another bus trip, and on what turned out to be the hottest day of the year so far, what better way to spend it than visiting four rural pubs along the upper reaches of the Medway Valley, close to the route of the former Three Bridges–Tunbridge Wells rail line.

A spot of detective work revealed that Metro Bus operate an hourly service (No. 291), between Tunbridge Wells and Crawley, via East Grinsted and Forest Row. Knowing there is a rich seam of attractive rural pubs along this route, prompted me into allocating Friday as the day for trying out this route.

The beauty of the 291 route, is its frequency, and with buses running in both directions, at hourly intervals, the scope for visiting three or four pubs over the course of the day, suddenly becomes very real. So, with printed timetable to hand, I set off armed with bus pass, plus a packed lunch, to make the short journey to Tunbridge Wells, and then see where the 291 would take me.

There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, as I stood waiting at the bus stop, opposite the entrance to the Royal Victoria Place shopping centre. I opted for the 10.48 bus, with the intention of travelling as far as Coleman’s Hatch, a tiny settlement on the edge of Ashdown Forest. I could then take a short, 10-minute walk up to the atmospheric Hatch Inn; an attractive, low-beamed old pub, which started life as three 15^th Century cottages.  

It all depended on bus arrival and departure times, plus that old chestnut and bane of many a pub-ticker’s schedule, pub opening times. The bus I was travelling on would drop me opposite the church in Coleman’s Hatch at 11.18, and with a 10-minute walk to the Hatch Inn, I would arrive just in time for an 11.30 opening time. There was conflicting information on the pub’s actual opening, with What Pub stating 11.30, and the pub’s website also showing 11.30 opening, but midday for food. I phoned the pub, several times, the day before, but no-one answered, so throwing caution to the wind I went for broke, alighted opposite the church, and headed uphill towards the Forest and the Hatch Inn.

The forest roads were surprisingly busy, and with speeding motorists, driving like there was no tomorrow, I needed my wits about me to avoid being hit. After cresting the brow of a hill, and traversing a busy junction, I could see the pub, a short distance away where the road began to level out again. As I approached, I could see lights on inside, and the outside Gin Bar appeared open as well.

All were good signs and so was the front door, which opened as I clicked the latch. Full of confidence, I approached the bar, only to be told by a woman who appeared from behind a curtain, that the pub was closed. A brief conversation about opening times then ensued, which resulted with her saying that if I only wanted a drink, I could have one! Perhaps she took pity on me, but whatever the reason, I accepted her offer.

Thinking ahead, I thought that if I just had a half, I could still make the 12.02 return service, and visit the next pub. Harvey’s Best, Old Ale plus a beer from Bedlam Brewery, were the choices, and despite my reticence that the beer might not have been pulled through yet, from the previous evening, I opted for a half of Old.

I was glad it was just a half, as the beer was a little “tired,” but I was also glad of the opportunity of nosing around the pub and taking a few photos. My only previous visit to the Hatch, had been on a vintage bus trip, organised by Maidstone CAMRA, back in 2015, and with a bus load of thirsty CAMRA members, in what is quite a small pub, it was difficult to take any meaningful photos.

So, with just myself and the barmaid present, I was able to snap away at will and appreciate all that one might expect from such an ancient building. This included the low sloping ceilings, supported by ancient beams, and a bar which occupies a central location. This opens up either side, into what are two separate rooms, with a log fire at one end providing a warming welcome.

The barmaid was on the phone as I was about to depart, but I shouted my thanks as I made for the door. It was downhill most of the way back to Holy Trinity church, and the bus stop for services back to Tunbridge Wells. I arrived in plenty of time, and although the bus was several minutes late, it was pleasant standing there in the warm, early spring sunshine.

My next port of call was only a few stops away, and it was a pub I hadn’t been to before, despite having driven past it quite few times. The Gallipot Inn, on the edge of Upper Hartfield, is an attractive, 16^th Century pub, close to the edge of the road.  It is a long, low building with a lower portion constructed from blocks of local sandstone, and a weatherboard upper section.

The internal layout seemed quite similar to that of the Hatch Inn, with a beer range almost to match. This time it was Cellar Head Session Pale complementing the Sussex Best although I stuck with the Harvey’s. There were a few diners inside, some with their canine companions tucked away under the tables but given the fine weather I took my pint out and sat at one of the tables enjoying my pint in the warm sunshine.

With very few cars passing by, it seemed a world away from the troubles of the outside world. I wasn’t alone as there was a couple and their dog, plus the odd jobbing builder – some building work was taking place at the rear of the pub. I later found out, after talking to a work colleague, that there is a pleasant garden behind the Gallipot, with views back across the valley, over to the High Weald.

An hour later, I was at the bus stop, directly in front of the pub, waiting for the next bus heading east. I jumped on and sat down for just a few stops until we reached the tiny village of Withyham, home to the legendary Dorset Arms. I say legendary because this lovely old pub has a soft spot in the hearts of those who appreciate unspoilt country pubs.

The Dorset started life as a 16^th Century farmhouse before coming an alehouse in the  18^th Century. For decades the pub has forms part of the Buckhurst Estate, owned by Earl De La Warr, whose arms are depicted on the pub sign. It is a listed building, complete with log fie in winter, and a wealth of old beams. It retains a public bar, which looks through, in places, to a much larger restaurant area.

I have always known the Dorset as a Harvey’s pub, but it appears that the brewery only leased it from the estate, and it has now reverted back to its original owners. My last visit to the pub involved an overnight stay in the village, whilst walking the Weald Way, long-distance footpath. My companion Eric and I had stayed at a B&B, housed in the Old Post Office, opposite the pub, and had enjoyed an excellent meal that evening, along with several pints of Harvey’s Best.

I’m not sure whether the Old Post Office still functions as a B&B, but today the Dorset offers overnight accommodation. I remember the father of a friend of ours telling us that him and his wife spent their honeymoon at the pub, which doesn’t surprise me as Tony was a connoisseur of unspoiled, traditional pubs, long before appreciation of old alehouses became more mainstream.

I certainly enjoyed my long overdue, return visit, sitting at the bar enjoying the finest pint of Sussex Best I’d had in a long time. There was a good mix of customers in the public bar, including, but not confined to, drinkers like me.  The bar staff were friendly, with the barmaid on first name terms with the group of carpenters who were celebrating the birthday of one of their team. On the other side of the partition, the restaurant looked busy, and I imagine it must have been reservations only.

I drank up and walked over to the bus stop, for the short ride to Groombridge, a village that is part in Kent and part in Sussex. The oldest part is in Kent, and at the end of a row of rustic looking, brick-built cottages, is the Crown Inn, overlooking the village green. The pub dates from the 16^th Century, and with its brick floors, old beams, and several interconnecting rooms, it is not hard to imagine it during those times.

Groombridge Place, a 17^th Century moated, manor house is at the bottom of the hill, and the extensive gardens and “enchanted forest” are a popular visitor attraction during the summer months. Groombridge was also once an important railway junction, but all that remains today are the heritage trains that operate on the Spa Valley Railway, between Tunbridge Wells West and Eridge.

Returning to the pub, Harvey’s Best and Larkin’s Traditional, were the cask ales on sale. I took my pint of Trad outside, and sat at one of the wooden bench tables, enjoying the view as well as the excellent Larkin’s beer. I also finished off the pre-prepared cheese rolls I had brought with me, by way of lunch. BRAPA would have been proud of me, I chuckled to myself, although he would have tried scoffing them inside the pub!

There was only time for one pint, as the Crown closes between 3 and 5.30 pm. I also had a bus to catch back to Tunbridge Wells. I was lucky with connections, because as the 291 pulled up in Tunbridge Wells, opposite the War Memorial, the No. 7 to Tonbridge was just about to leave. I jumped off the former and hopped onto the latter. It wasn’t quite so lucky when the bus picked up a full complement of pushing, shoving and plague-infected school kids, from outside the local grammar school.

I was glad of the FFP2 face mask I was wearing, but if truth be known I didn’t let the minor inconvenience of a bus load of excited kids, released for the weekend, detract from what had been one of the most enjoyable and productive bus trips, I’ve experienced to date.