Goudhurst - a hill-top village, and real wealden gem

If I thought Thursday's weather was bad, Friday’s was even worse. At least on the previous morning we had some sunshine and I managed to get a fair bit done in the garden, although from mid-afternoon onward heavy rain put paid to any outdoor activities. With Friday forecast to be wet for most of the day, as well as several degrees colder, I decided the best thing to do was to get out of the house, leave Mrs PBT’s with the year-end tax returns, and all the other boring, financial stuff she has to do deal with and find a pub somewhere.

But where to go, especially on a day when the train drivers embark on yet another strike? Of necessity my day out would have to be a bus trip, but even then, it took a while to decide exactly where to go. Late last night, I finally settled on the large and rather picturesque village of Goudhurst, situated on the brow of a rather steep hill, in the heart of the Kentish Weald. The main A262 road runs right through the centre of the village and then does a dog leg around the churchyard, at the top of the hill. It's a road totally unsuited for large motor vehicles, and I would possibly even include buses here, whilst large lorries, and anything articulated, should definitely steer well clear!

It's a route I have travelled dozens of times particularly as it is the most direct route from Tonbridge to Ashford, the town where I grew up and where my parents lived until retiring up to Norfolk. The A262 isn't the quickest route, although it’s certainly much prettier and more attractive than the route via Hadlow, Kings Hill and M20 motorway. So having travelled through Goudhurst on many previous occasions I thought it high time I stopped for a look around. The fact that there’s a free car-park, close to the village pond, which is just before the really steep section of the hill begins, means there was no real excuse for not having stopped before.

Opposite the pond, is the Vine Inn, an attractive old, weather boarded pub sited at the junction of two roads leading into the village. Until yesterday, it was the only pub in Goudhurst I had visited, but that was over 20 years ago, and I’m sorry to report that the Vine is currently closed, and up for sale. Although I don’t know the reasons for its closure, I’m surprised that it’s shut, The pub I was making for though was the imposing, and rather striking, half-timbered Star & Eagle Hotel, situated on the right-hand side as you ascend the hill, just before the kink in the road, next to the churchyard. It's a pub with a very upmarket appearance but after looking online I noticed it had some good reviews, so I thought I would give it a try.

I also wanted to take a look at Goudhurst’s attractive mediaeval church situated right on the brow of the hill. It’s said that the church tower affords some spectacular view out across the weald, but quite understandably, the tower is only open to the public at weekends between April and October. There wouldn't have been much of a view on Friday anyway, given the low clouds and rain that were blowing in from the west, but was still well worthwhile having a look around inside this lovely old church.

As mentioned above, with no trains running I caught the No.7 bus from Tonbridge to Tunbridge Wells, although whatever possessed the bus company to put a single deck bus on a route that is normally operated by double deck buses? Even worse was doing so on a day when no trains were running. I gathered from the crowd of people waiting at the bus stop in Tonbridge that one bus had already been cancelled but somehow, when the bus eventually arrived, we all managed to squeeze on.

Unfortunately, the nearest available seat was next to a rather large gentleman who not only took up part of my seat allocation, but also stank to high heaven! I hate to think the last time this person made contact with soap and water, but the smell emanating from him was overpowering. Perhaps the little old lady who’d got on after me, and to whom I offered my seat, had noticed the pong too since she declined my offer. A real shame, as I would gladly have stood all the way to Tunbridge Wells just to get further away from this obnoxious individual.

Once we’d all squeezed our way off the bus in Tunbridge Wells, there was time for a leisurely flat white plus a bacon roll from Greggs, before walking along to the bus stop to await the 297 Hams Travel service to Goudhurst and Tenterden. The bus turned up on time but with only me, plus a couple of other people getting on, there were very few passengers on board, and most of whom got off at nearby Pembury. It's a very pleasant journey through the Weald of Kent travelling through the attractive villages of Matfield, Benchley, and Horsmonden. I was only person leaving the bus in Goudhurst, and as was getting off I asked the whereabouts of the return bus stop. A passenger, who was getting on, told me it was back around the corner, just passed the junction. He turned out to be the relief driver, as I discovered an hour and a half later, when he was driving the bus on its return journey to Tunbridge Wells.

A few steps up the hill from the bus stop was a rather nice-looking baker's. I'd already clocked the place on Google Street View, so I popped in and bought a cheese and tomato baguette, to eat later, whilst waiting for the bus back. I knew from the website and from photos of the Star & Eagle on social media, that the pub was rather upmarket, and that a simple item, like a cheese roll, would either be non-existent, or cost an arm and a leg, so the local baker’s made perfect sense.

With lunch settled for later, I crossed the road and headed off up the hill. I walked around the church first, with this extensive graveyard that extends across to the other side of a small lane where again there would be some rather splendid views, but not on that particular Friday. Afterwards I stuck my head inside the church and had a good look around. I half expected someone to appear, asking whether I was in need of salvation, or just wanted to pray, but as no one did, I had a nice look around, enjoying the peace and quiet of this lovey old church.

Afterwards, I walked back down the hill for a quick look at the pond, before retracing my steps up to the Star & Eagle. I was right in thinking the pub would posh, and whilst it was upmarket, in a nice sort of way, it very much reminded me of Rye.  The general layout of the pub was the bar occupied the middle section of the building, with a restaurant leading off to the right. There were also a number of other rooms to the left. On sale at the bar, were Harvey’s Sussex Best, plus a coronation ale from Brakspear’s. The latter company, appear to own the pub, and as with the George & Dragon at Speldhurst, plus the Leicester Arms at Penshurst, they have acquired some rather prestigious and historic pubs, in this part of Kent.

I took my pint of Sussex, plus bag of Piper’s Crisps – total cost £7.10, so work that one out! and sat at a table, overlooking the rainswept garden at the rear of the pub. It was nice and cosy inside, but for a while, I was the only customer. Later on, a couple turned up, and ordered themselves a meal, sitting at a window at the front of the pub. I imagine, the unseasonably cold weather had put a stop to much of the passing trade that an attractive village like Goudhurst, normally attracts, but it’s also worth noting that the Star & Eagle has ten bedrooms, for those contemplating a longer stay. There is also a reasonably-sized car-park at the rear of the pub, accessed by the appropriately named Back Lane.

One rather fascinating aspect of the Star & Eagle, is that it also owns the adjoining building, which formerly housed the Eight Bells pub. The latter always gave the impression of a far more basic and down to earth sort of place, which I’m sure it was. I'm not sure when it closed, as like the Star & Eagle, it was a pub that I never managed to visit. However, as a rather neat twist to this tale, the Eight Bells does open occasionally, for private hire events such as pop-ups, parties, and music events. As a former pub, it still contains a bar, dart board and pool table, plus a large open fire. The Eight Bells is separated from the Star & Eagle, by a narrow passage, at ground floor level.It would have been nice to see inside, although I imagine there would have been various keys to find and security alarms to deactivate, and that’s assuming the two girls behind the bar had the authority to open the place up for a casual onlooker, such as me, but it’s nice to learn that this former pub is still functioning, albeit in a somewhat limited capacity.

After leaving the pub, I crossed the road, walked down the hill, and found my way to the bus stop. I was glad of the shelter behind the stop, as I sat there enjoying the cheese baguette I’d bought earlier. I was the only passenger on the bus as far as Matfield and was glad at the progress the bus was making. There was a rather tight connection at Pembury Hospital, for the bus back to Tonbridge, and we would probably have made it, if the driver hadn’t decided to pull up outside a convenience store in Pembury village, to pick up some lunch!

I can’t really begrudge him for that, but missing the connection meant a 25-minute wait, in the freezing cold, for the next bus. I did toy with the idea of nipping into the hospital reception area, and waiting there, but hospitals aren’t the healthiest of places, so steeling myself against the cold I waited for the next 218 Arriva bus, to Tonbridge. Several bus routes include the hospital on their routes, so it does form a handy interchange that avoids the need to travel in and out of Tunbridge Wells. Consequently, despite the wait, I was back indoors by 2.30pm, glad that I had finally made the effort to experience a piece of Goudhurst for myself.

 

Pub talk

I mentioned in a previous post how after one of the driest February's on record, March and April turned out complete opposites, as not only were these months characterised by persistent, and at times heavy rainfall, but temperatures too seemed way below average. I was reminded of this the other evening whilst looking through some photos, trying to find some to help illustrate a post I was writing at the time. From the dates on the photos, it appears March and April 2022 were characterised by plenty of sunshine and relatively warm temperatures. Many trees were also in leaf, and we're talking here about pictures taken in April.

Something seems to have gone horribly wrong this year, because apart from the odd warm day, May has continued in the same vein. The wind has a chill to it which, by right, should have disappeared long before, but it's the rain that's been the most annoying, and with low pressure hanging over the country, drawing in wet fronts from the Atlantic, there doesn't even seem to be any end in sight,

This topic came up last Thursday, when I joined members of West Kent CAMRA at the Nelson Arms, in Tonbridge, for a presentation marking the pub achieving Branch Pub of the Year. One friend I was talking to, said exactly the same thing about the weather, and being a keen walker like me, was equally cheesed off. We’d both concluded that with conditions under foot being far too wet and slippery, the risk of falling over, or becoming stuck in the mud, were sufficient to detract from the usual pleasures of hiking in the great outdoors. Consequently, like me, my friend has done very little walking this spring.

Another topic of conversation that evening, was the news concerning the Black Sheep Brewery of Masham, North Yorkshire, being on the verge of going into receivership. This is bad news for anyone who likes a decent pint, and sad news too for a company which celebrated its 30^th anniversary last year. Founded in 1992, by Paul Theakston, of the famous brewing family, Black Sheep became a major force in Yorkshire brewing. Now it is facing a “perfect storm” of post-COVID debt, rising costs, and uncertain demand.

There had been a fair amount of debate on one the local West Kent CAMRA WhatsApp groups, about possible reasons for Black Sheep’s troubles, with one of the younger members stating, that the beers the company brewed weren’t exciting enough to appeal to his generation. Several of us responded that whilst there might be the odd grain of truth in this, not everyone wished to drink beers with a strong citrus flavour. I made the point that with very few pubs of their own, Black Sheep might have placed too much reliance on the free trade, and have now found out just how fickle this section of the market can be, and how cut throat is the competition to get their beers on the bars of Yorkshire pubs.

Another contributor chipped in saying that the lack of a flagship brand within the Black Sheep portfolio, was a serious handicap for the brewery.  He claimed that Riggwelter would fit the bill, but it was a beer that drinkers rarely come across, and one that seems to receive very little promotion, certainly outside of its Yorkshire heartland. I personally think that a flagship brand can be a double-edged sword. In the past, breweries have been purchased by a larger rival, that just wants to get its hands on the better known, named beer.

Theakston’s Old Peculier was one such beer, and after the original family company fell into financial difficulties, the brewery was purchased by Matthew Brown of Blackburn. This turned out to be a bad move for the Lancashire company, as their ownership of Theakston’s attracted the attention of a much larger fish, in the guise of Scottish & Newcastle. The latter didn’t give two hoots about Matthew Brown, its brewery or its beers, they just wanted to add the Old Peculier brand to their portfolio.

Sure enough, following a rather bitter takeover battle, S&N acquired the Theakston brands they were after, Matthew Brown’s Blackburn brewery was closed, and the Brown name very quickly disappeared. If you want to know how quickly, ask how many of today’s drinkers have heard of Matthew Brown? I suspect there is a large proportion of CAMRA members who haven’t heard of the brewery, either.

I’ve laboured things rather on this last point, and we’ve drifted way off topic from my opening remarks about the weather, but this is often what happens with many conversations that take place over a few pints. There’s no getting away though from the point that, like the weather, the brewing industry and pub trades are both in a state of flux, with no-one really knowing what the end game will be. As with all the other bad stuff that is going on in the world at the moment, a little stability, would be most welcome, but whether or not it materialises, is anyone’s guess.

How do you like your eggs in the morning?

My son Matthew and I haven't done much in the way of Sunday breakfasts, this year. A combination of circumstances, such as Matthew working at weekends, but also with the appearance on the scene of a new girlfriend, have conspired against what had become something of a weekend ritual. In addition, Mrs PBT’s has been dishing up a cooked breakfast on Sunday mornings – not every week, mind you, but enough to disrupt, if that’s the right word, any plans we might have of driving off somewhere to feed our faces.

I might be wrong, but I get the impression breakfasting out is more of an American tradition than a British one. Certainly, on my first visit to the US I breakfasted with my brother-in-law, on several occasions, and my sister joined us a couple of times as well. Whatever the origin of this custom it's good to drive off and grab something satisfying and filling, on a day when there’s no work to be done, and no need to hurry. Looking back, Matthew and I had, whenever possible, been going along to support the fortnightly breakfasts held at Chiddingstone Causeway Village Hall, just a short hop from where I work. The idea behind these breakfasts is to raise money for the maintenance and upkeep of the hall, and for the bargain price of £7 a head, one can obtain a tasty and substantial full-English breakfast. The people who cook and serve these breakfasts are all volunteers who live locally, but unfortunately these Sunday sessions have become so popular, that the kitchen sometimes becomes overwhelmed.

Things reached a stage where Matthew and I stopped going, even on those occasions where we were both free, and it’s all down to a large crowd of diners who turn up, mob-handed, from one of the neighbouring villages.  I wouldn’t like to say which one they are from, although the smart money is on Penshurst. The latter is much larger than the Causeway, and it’s only a five-minute drive away. Consequently, a large group of around a dozen people, turn up more or less at once.  They arrive in a number of different cars, but once at the hall begin rearranging the furniture, by putting two or three tables together, so they can all sit round and gossip – as only country folk can do!

A you can imagine, this put quite a strain on the kitchen, which is staffed and run by a small team of volunteers, which includes the parents of one of my work colleagues. He has started getting to the hall, just after the 8am opening time, but that’s a little early for Matthew and me, but leave it until much after 8.45 am you will find yourselves having to wait a long time for your full-English to be served. I feel sorry for my colleagues’ parents both of whom are in their early 70s for being put under pressure in this way, but although I'm a fairly patient person, I really don't like having to wait too long for food I've ordered to arrive on the table.

This has been another factor in why we've only breakfasted there around three times this year. This is a shame, as it’s all in a good cause, but it has sparked off the search for a new breakfast venue. In doing so, I wanted to find somewhere of a similar standard, where the breakfast consisted of quality local ingredients, rather than the greasy spoon, cut-price establishment where the thin and watery bacon, the sawdust-filled sausages and rubbery, fried eggs are sufficient to put you off a cooked breakfast for life. I’d endured far too many of these type of places over the years, which made me all the more determined to find somewhere decent, for a change.

This is where the Chaser Inn at Shipbourne, appeared on the scene. Shipbourne is an attractive and well-spaced-out village to the north of Tonbridge, situated at the base of the Greensand Ridge. I knew the pub used to do breakfast on a Sunday morning, and a few years ago, before the advent of the pandemic, and Matthew and I had even tried to get ourselves a breakfast there. We arrived a bit late that particular day, and whilst I wasn't expecting to be able to park at the pub itself, I thought there would be spaces on the large green opposite. Unfortunately, there was no such luck, as Shipbourne Common is a very popular spot for dog walkers and people setting off on rambles or longer hikes, so it was definitely a case of no room at the inn.

Fast forward to a few weeks ago, and I was again looking at somewhere where we could get a decent breakfast. I wasn't sure if the Chaser was still offering this on a Sunday morning, but a quick check on the pub website confirmed that they were. 

Furthermore, rather than the 8:00 am start operated by the Causeway Village Hall; the Chaser opened for breakfast at the slightly more civilised time of 9:00 am. So, on a rather dull and slightly overcast Sunday, I drove Matthew and I over to Shipbourne. Sure enough, there was no space in the pub car park, but fortunately this time around there was plenty of room on the green. We parked the car and walked across to the pub, and upon entering, were greeted by member of staff. I inquired about breakfast and was asked whether we had booked. I said no and was told that it was necessary. Looking around I noticed plenty of empty tables, in fact when we arrived, only one of them was occupied.

The young lady showed us to a table in the dining areas, at the right-hand side of the bar, an area decked out with various bookcases, to give it that antique, “lived-in” look. I ordered a pot of tea between the two of us, and a few minutes later a member of staff came over and took our order. I went for a full-on English breakfast, although I passed on the baked beans. For some strange reason haricot beans no longer agree with me so despite enjoying beans on toast when I was younger, I give them a wide berth these days. Matthew also went for the full English, but with hash browns as an extra.

It didn't take too long for our breakfasts to arrive, so this was a totally different experience to the Causeway Hall. The two poached eggs I'd ordered with my bacon, sausage, tomato, and black pudding were cooked just right, and were served on top of two slices of thick, nicely done toast. The food was very good, and it was obvious from the taste of the bacon and the sausage that they were quality items. Locally sourced too, according to the menu. It really does make all the difference paying that little bit extra, backing up what Mrs PBT's is always saying, about you get what you pay for.

The price of this excellent breakfast was £10.95, with the pot of tea costing £3.95 between the two of us, but it was a large pot, which contained more than enough for several cups each. Not long after we arrived, two other groups turned up, still not enough to crowd the place out, but sufficient to allow for a nice and relaxed atmosphere. I think we shall be going back again, the next time the pair of us have a free Sunday. Like I said earlier, I've had enough of budget priced transport café, greasy-spoon places where price comes before quality.

It's worth recording that the Chaser is owned by the same small pub-group (Whiting & Hammond), who own the Little Brown Jug in Chiddingstone Causeway, and like the village hall, just a few minutes’ walk away, they too offer breakfast on a Sunday morning. The lad and I have eaten there before, prior to the pandemic, so we might give place another try, especially if we arrive in the village and find that the hall car-park is full to overflowing. Having to wait ages, for my breakfast to arrive, is not the best way to start my day, and whilst I'd like to see the village hall succeed, I’m not sure what they can do about the influx of diners from the next village.