Rye re-visited part 2.

The rain had cleared by the time I left the Ypres Castle, and I retraced my footsteps back to the churchyard. I walk the opposite way around this time and then continued across to where the road narrows before turning a corner, by Lamb House. Turning the corner took me into Mermaid Street which is where I was aiming for, because a third of the way down this steep, and quite narrow, cobbled street is the historic and rather picturesque Mermaid Inn. I stopped for a while on the narrow pavement opposite to take a few, obligatory photos on this lovely old hostelry, which has to be one of Rye’s most best-known attractions.

The Mermaid hasn’t changed much since Mrs PBT’s and I stayed here nearly 40 years ago, but why would an establishment with the words “Re-built 1420,” painted on its outside wall, wish to bow to modernity? I wasn't the only one taking photos, as there seemed the usual crop of Far Eastern tourists snapping away, alongside visitors from nearer to home. It was time to step inside, so I used the entrance steps situated below the archway, that leads to the garden and car park at the rear. I acknowledged the receptionist, as I walked past her desk, and then did a sharp left along a corridor, towards the comfortable and cosy bar at the rear of the inn.

The bar was busy, and whilst not packed, there were no free tables for me to sit at. Small matter, I made my way to the bar and noticed three cask ales on sale - Harvey’s Best, St Austell Tribute, and a mysterious beer badged as “Mermaid Ale.” I opted for this 3.7% premium bitter (according to the pump-clip), and after inquiring to its origin, the friendly barmaid informed me it was brewed by Young's. I only went for a half, as with nowhere to sit, and very little space at the bar, I felt rather in the way.

The bar staff were happy to chat, in between pouring drinks, so I mentioned my stay in 1985. They suggested going along to reception and inquiring about prices and room availability if I fancied booking a return stay. I took this advice as soon as I’d finished my drink, and retraced my steps along the corridor, in order to speak to the receptionist. She went through what was available, but advised that due to the Mermaid’s popularity,  I would need to book about four months in advance. She also went through the types of room that the inn offered, so that when I got home, I could surprise Mrs PBT’s with the prospect of a luxury weekend in Rye.

I thanked her for her time and patience and in possession of this extra information left the pub. I made my way to the bottom of Mermaid Street and followed the road round until I found myself back in Cinque Ports Street – the road where I’d started out on earlier. it was time now to discover the delights of the Waterworks, so I hurried along until I reached Rye’s first, and so far, only micro-pub. In a previous article – “Change of Plan,” I explained the story behind the pub and its quirky name, so I won’t repeat myself here, but as I was to find out, the Waterworks is a thriving drinking establishment that is popular, not just with locals, but also visitors to Rye. It was no surprise then, as I stepped inside, to find the place rather full.

In common with most micro-pubs, the Waterworks has just a single room, with the bar counter adjacent to the door. The beers, and ciders, are kept in a temperature-controlled room, behind the bar, and dispensed by gravity, direct from the cask. The majority of them are locally sourced, which makes sense. The ceiling is festooned with hops, and pump-clips, whilst the walls are hung with various paintings and prints. Given the preponderance of antique shops in Rye, it’s no surprise there are large amounts of bric-a-brac, scattered about the place. There are just six tables of various shapes and sizes, for drinkers to sit at, and the pub has a laudable policy of encouraging customers to move along and make room for other drinkers. A notice reminds patrons that micro-pubs are for sharing, and suggests that visitors should find a seat, sit down, and say hello to the people next to them.

This policy is fine with me, so after ordering my beers (I bought two to save coming back up to the bar again), I did exactly what was requested of me, and found a seat on the end of a table. I had a light and a dark beer. The pale beer was a 4.9% Imperial Session IPA, from Only With Love, a micro-brewery based in Uckfield. It was a well-balanced and most enjoyable beer, but the same could not be said about the second beer, Black Udder, from Hop Fuzz Brewery of Hythe. The latter was supposed to have been a milk stout but to me it was more like a dry Irish stout. There was certainly very little in the way of residual sweetness – a characteristic you would normally expect from a milk stout. The beer was still perfectly drinkable but wasn't quite what I expected.

If the Waterworks seemed crowded when I arrived, it began to fill up even more over the course of my stay, but people in the main were sensible and following the guidance described above, all those who wanted to sit down, managed to get a seat. As in many pubs there was a hard core of regulars sat at the bar, but the staff were aware of this and managed to serve people approaching the bar, without any hassle. I was hungry by this time and knew from the pub’s website that homemade pork pies and Scotch eggs were on sale behind the bar. I was therefore looking forward to trying one of these, so when I noticed the big chalk cross, scrawled diagonally across the blackboard, my heart sank. I inquired about the pies but was told they wouldn't be available until January, as they are sourced from a nearby bakery, which was closed during the Christmas-New Year break. 

I had to make do with crisps, and to my delight, they were Pipers, a brand that has been my favourite for a long time now. However, despite munching my way through two bag of ready salted crisps, I was still hungry peckish. I’d planned to catch the 15: 48 train back to Ashford and knowing there was a chip shop fairly close to the station I drank, said farewell to the Waterworks, and set off in search of the chippy. Looking at the map in hindsight, Marino’s Fish Bar would have been the best bet. It was certainly nearer, and I recall Retired Martin and I enjoying some good chips from there. Instead, I headed for the station, which then meant cutting back into the bottom of the town, past the Pipemakers Arms, and then to the Kettle o’ Fish.

The latter is another Rye fish and chip shop that the family and I have used in the past. It overlooks the River Brede at the area known as Strand Quay. There was a small queue inside, but I didn’t have long to wait for my freshly fried portion of chips. I left them in their wrapper and headed back to the station, waiting until I was on the London bound platform before devouring them with relish. Smothered with salt and vinegar, they were especially good and just what I needed following a day spent walking around Rye and taking refreshment in several of its hostelries. I’d finished eating by the time the train pulled in, and after boarding, settled down in my seat to enjoy the return journey to Ashford, as the sun set slowly across the flatlands of Romney Marsh.

Rye - re-visited part 1.

Well, here we are, exactly a week later, looking at last Thursday’s trip to Rye. The train dropped me at the station, shortly before midday for what was the first time I had arrived in the town by rail since who knows when. It was also my first visit to Rye since the one I made with Retired Martin, back in February 2019.

I know the town well, having made umpteen visits over the past four and a half decades, but most importantly, I know where all the good pubs are. After exiting the station, I made my way along Cinque Ports Street – the thoroughfare at the bottom of the hill which is overlooked by the Old Town. I stopped, on the way, to take a few photos of the Waterworks micro-pub, although given its 2:00 PM opening time, I wouldn’t be able to pay it a visit until later.

Continuing on my way, I turned up the hill through the historic Land Gate and into the bustling High Street. Rye was teeming with visitors and townspeople alike, with many dressed accordingly in keeping with the upmarket feel that seems ingrained into the local DNA. My original plan had been to make the Ypres Castle my first point of call, and then continue back down to the Waterworks, but given the 2:00 PM opening time, there was a lot more time available than I first realised.

I therefore decided a visit to the historic Mermaid Inn would also be in order. I’ve mentioned this before, but this ancient 15^th Century inn is where Mrs PBT’s and I spent part of our honeymoon, nearly 40 years ago. I was also inspired to re- visit the Mermaid, following a recent blog article from Retired Martin, in which he praised both the bar at the rear of the building, as well as the quality of the beer.

I was mulling these plans over, as I walked along the High Street, and it was then that I noticed the George. With parts dating back to the 16^th Century, this former coaching inn, is now Rye’s premier hotel, and calls itself "The George in Rye." Following a serious fire, the premises reopened in May 2022, having undergone a tasteful and thorough renovation – both inside and out. The hotel has retained many of its original features, including the old oak beams and the original fireplace

It has always acted as a focal point and meeting place for the town and its publicity material boasts of having entertained three King Georges, one Duke of Wellington and one Mayor of London (wonder which one?). In 1778 the first coaching service ran between Rye and London, with the journey to taking 16 hours, each way. The George is a place I'd always wanted to visit but despite umpteen trips to Rye, I'd never manage to do so. This then was to be my chance. I hadn't bothered checking on WhatPub, but after spotting the drinks menu displayed outside, I noticed that Harvey's, Long Man, and Romney Marsh beers were available.

I walked in through the porticoed main entrance that overlooks the High Street and having established the bar was at the rear of the building, walked past reception, up some steps and entered the bar. There were quite a few people seated enjoying drinks, but fortunately there was space at one of their larger tables. I ordered myself a swift half of Romney Marsh Amber and sat down at table nearest the bar. I’m not overly familiar with Romney Marsh Brewery, although their beers seem increasingly common in this tucked-away corner of south-east England.

The clientele appeared mainly middle-aged, although there were a few younger people. Dogs seemed an essential accessory, as did stylish, but expensive outdoor clothing.  One such group arrived, which look like an older mother and father, with a younger couple obviously related to the latter. I beckoned them to take a seat, as there was plenty of room, and they gratefully accepted. I had a brief chat about pubs and beer with the elder of the two men, and he recommended I try a pub called This Ancient Boro’, in Tenterden, as it features gravity-dispensed beer.

I promised to remember the place when I was next in Tenterden. It was time to move on, so I headed up towards Rye’s imposing church, through the graveyard, and then down towards the imposing Ypres Tower, which overlooks the flat marshlands, reclaimed from the sea, below.  Here, just down a series of steep steps, leading off from the tower ramparts, is the Ypres Castle, an attractive weather-boarded pub, which seems to cling to the side of the hill.

Inside, there is one large bar with an open fire, and an adjoining room behind the serving area. I know the Ypres Castle well, following many visits to Rye, over the years, and it has everything you would expect from such a venerable old inn. I’ve always regarded it as a special sort of pub, given its tucked away location, so four years ago, I was delighted to learn that the Ypres Castle had been bought by Jeffrey Bell, a lawyer and blogger, turned pub landlord. Jeff established a legendary reputation for running a good pub, during his tenure of the Gunmaker’s in London’s Clerkenwell area, and he has continued this at the Ypres Castle.

By the time I arrived, the pub was already quite full, although after buying a pint of Thornbridge Brother Rabbit, I managed to find space at the end of one of the large wooden tables.  Despite its 4% abv, I thought this beer from the Thornbridge stable, was on the thin side. Fine for a summer’s day, but not ideal for a chilly day at the tail end of December. In fact, looking out of the window opposite, behind a table occupied by a group of dedicated walkers, I could see the sky, visibly darkening. Several of these ramblers had been champing at the bit and were keen to commence their hike. Off they went, but only after courteously returning their glasses to the bar.

They shouted to their companions, who were still finishing their drinks, that they would wait for them at a particular spot, but they hadn’t long departed before the sky darkened further, and the heavens opened. This was despite there being no rain in the forecast, a fact pointed out by a member of the now returned “advanced party” of ramblers, as they scurried back inside the pub, their tails between their legs.

More drinks were called for, but not for me, as I had an historic old inn, plus a micro-pub to visit. I drank up and left, but not before I heard the bar staff confirming that Jeffrey wouldn’t be coming down from London, for a while, because of the looming rail strikes. There was probably another reason for the landlord’s absence, as I noticed on the pub’s website today, that the Ypres is currently closed until 27^th January, for it’s annual, post-Christmas break. In the meantime, I had two more watering holes to visit, and you can read about them, in the next post.