Celebration Day

It was my birthday on Saturday. It wasn't a significant birthday but it's not far off being one, although for the time being at least, that's as far as I’m prepared to go on the subject. The Bailey family decided it would be nice to celebrate the old man’s special day, but where to go? Being the name in the frame, I of course got to choose, but I was determined that we should go somewhere different, and some where we hadn’t been before.

After quite a bit of searching both online and asking around amongst work colleagues, we settled on a pub called the Vineyard at Lamberhurst Down. Nestled in the Kent countryside and close to the vineyards of Lamberhurst, the Vineyard is a cosy country pub, formerly known as the Swan.  It is an attractive pub which dates from the 1700's, and originally started life as three thatched cottages.  Today, the pub is largely given over to dining, but according to What Pub, it retains a comfortable bar area for drinkers.

I didn’t get to see the bar, as after checking in with the front of house, we were immediately shown to our table, located at the rear of the building, and close to a door leading to the outdoor drinking/dining area and terraced garden. It was all very pleasant, with a bright airy feel to the place, but the thing that caught my eye, and kept me entertained was the large pizza oven and pizza preparation station, to the right of out table. I don’t know what you call the person in charge of cooking pizzas, but the chap looking after this side of things, was certainly kept very busy.

I can't remember the last time I visited the Vineyard, and it may even have been back in the day (early 90’s) when I worked in Lamberhurst at Crown Chemicals, a small privately owned pharmaceutical company that specialised in veterinary products. I'm not sure either when or indeed why, the pub changed its name, but today it is one of 15 upmarket family dining outlets, scattered across mid Kent and extending down into East Sussex. The company behind this chain is Elite Pubs, even though not all the group’s outlets started life originally as pubs.

Son Matthew visited another Elite Pub a month or so ago, when he dined out with his cousin and her fiancé at the Lazy Fox, just over the Sussex border, at Mark Cross. He enjoyed his meal but in typical Matthew fashion was very understated about the place, so we didn't get much in the way of feedback about the pub, or the food. However, a colleague with connections to that part of the world, and who has dined several times at the Lazy Fox, thought that the Vineyard would be a good bet, so after running my decision passed Mrs PBT's, I went online and made a reservation.

Yes, I booked a table, and yes, I know that one or two people (mainly one), aren't going to like that, but turning up at Saturday lunchtime on the off chance that the pub “might” have a vacant table was always going to end in disappointment, even more so when the Met Office was promising the first decent spell of weather this spring. Booking online was a lot easier than phoning the pub and waiting for a harassed member of staff to answer, find the diary, and a pen, in order to take down my details. I even received an e-mail confirmation sent to my phone.

We drove over to Lamberhurst, which is a reasonably sized village, which straddles the River Teise. The latter is a tributary of the Medway, and whilst it looks quite benign, it can occasionally flood and burst its banks, during times of heavy rainfall.  Lamberhurst is much quieter now than it was during my days working at Crown Chemicals, and it’s hard to believe that the A21 – the main, London-Hastings trunk road ran through the heart of the village. Fortunately, a newish by-pass runs to the east, and Lamberhurst is now a peaceful settlement, and a pleasant place to live.

When we arrived at the Vineyard, the car park nearest to the pub was already full, and the overspill parking area, which is larger than the main one, was beginning to fill up as well. I doubt we would have secured a table had we not booked one.  Our reservation was for 1 pm and were probably about 10 minutes ahead of that time, so after parking we climbed the steps past a series of attractive looking terraces, overlooking the garden at the rear of the pub, and entered, as described earlier.

Apart from the location, plus the recommendation from colleagues and family members, my main reason for choosing the Vineyard was the homemade pie which featured on the menu. Many readers of this blog will be well aware that I really love a pie, especially a proper homemade one where the meat and the rest of the filling is all encased in pastry. Fortunately, the practice of calling, what is in effect a casserole with a pastry lid, seems to be seems to be waning, and more and more places are going the extra mile and producing proper pies.

The featured pie at the Vineyard, had a filling of gammon, chicken and leeks, and was served with new potatoes, broccoli spears plus green beans all smothered in butter, not especially healthy, but it was a treat a birthday treat. The dish came with a small pot of gravy, but as the veg and the new potatoes tasted so good on their own, I was reluctant to smother them in gravy, although I did put a small dollop on the side of my plate, to soak up the pastry part of the pie.

Drink wise, I knew the pub stocked Harvey’s, so I ordered a pint of Best, and when Matthew was asking about the lagers, I heard the name Curious Brew mentioned. This was confirmed afterwards by a member on the family WhatsApp group, who also claimed the pub sold Cellar Head beers. I mentioned this brewery in a previous post, stating whilst there was nothing wrong with Cellar Head beers, I just wasn't overly keen on them. The Sussex Best was excellent, although as I was driving, I only had the one pint.

After the main course, we decided to push the boat out and go for a dessert.  Eileen and I both went for a election of different-flavoured, Cornish dairy ice creams from Callestick Farm – wherever that is, in Cornwall? Matthew chose sticky toffee pudding. With coffee to follow, it was the perfect birthday blow-out. I also have to say that the service at the Vineyard was exemplary, and the girls who took our order and brought the food over, were pleasant, friendly, well briefed, and a pleasure to engage with.

My only gripe was not getting the chance for a proper look around the pub itself. That wouldn’t have been very practical, given the number of people inside, and it certainly wouldn’t have been appropriate to go round taking photos – something my family like to remind me of, whenever the chance arises. I’m tempted to take a drive over there, during an off-peak moment, and enjoy that more detailed look around.

We drove home, via Tunbridge Wells, taking the B2169 Bayham Road through Hook Green and Bells Yew Green. Both settlements have their own tied Harvey’s pubs, the Elephant’s Head in the first instance, and the Brecknock Arms at the latter. All these places (and pubs), can be reached by bus, as can the Vineyard, so for those with a bus pass, this forms an enjoyable way of spending a day in the attractive, Kent-Sussex border area.

 

 

Beer, deer and cultural highlights in the land of the rising sun

Last Wednesday evening, I was relaxing after a busy few days at work, and sitting down to watch, what for me is a rare spot of television. The programme I was about to watch was the first episode in a new series of Race Around the World. For those who might have been asleep, or otherwise missed the previous three series, five pairs of travellers participate in a race that will take them through several different countries, although there is a major catch. The pairs cannot travel by plane, must leave their smartphones and credit cards behind, and will not have access to the internet. Provided only with the cash equivalent of their airfare from their starting destination to the finishing line, they must find innovative ways to manage their budget and conduct their journey. If the pairs run out of money, they must earn some more to continue the journey, and they must also pass through a number of checkpoints along the way.

Series 4 (Season 4, for American readers), saw the pairs starting in Sapporo, capital of Hokkaido, the northernmost of Japan’s main islands, on the first leg of an epic journey that will eventually take them to Indonesia. Their destination at the end of this first leg is the resort city of Nara, a short distance from Kyoto, in the south of the country. The mention of Nara, with its attractive deer park, and numerous historic temples, brought back pleasant memories for me, as this was the town that I visited, with a colleague, at the end of a business trip to Japan. That was in May 2013, so almost 11 years ago. But on the last day of what was quite an intense week-long visit, it was good to escape the hustle and bustle of Kyoto and take the short (50 minutes) train trip to Nara.

Regular readers of this blog will be aware that the company I work for - part-time, now, is Japanese owned, and whilst there are obviously quite strong links between us and Japan, we operate with a fair degree of autonomy. I’m not 100% sure how the idea for the visit came about, but whatever the reason I jumped at the chance when it was offered. I travelled out with Marielle, our Operations Manager who is originally from France. With no direct flights between the UK and Kyoto, we had to change enroute. Several options were available, but we went with Dutch national carrier, KLM, which meant changing flights at Amsterdam Schiphol.

We were well looked after by our Japanese hosts, and we both came away having learned a lot about how the parent company operates. My sphere of interest was quality control and product testing, whilst my colleague’s specialty was automation of production and packing operations. I’m not quite sure what prompted us to visit Nara, but it probably came about after a senior colleague from the UK joined us, towards the end of the week. On the Saturday evening, the three of us went out for dinner, and as this was our first evening without our Japanese hosts, we decided to choose a European style restaurant, rather than a more locally themed one.

Our choice for the evening was the Beer Restaurant, located in the basement of a tower block, just outside Kyoto’s sprawling central station. Unashamedly styled on a Bavarian Beer Hall, the Beer Restaurant served draught Löwenbräu, bottled Export Bass plus a couple of bottled Belgian beers, but as we were in Japan, I decided to stay local and opted for a mug of Asahi Kuronama. Described as Japan’s favourite dark beer, this distinct, rich, and ultra smooth beer, is brewed from a blend of dark, crystal and Munich malts. It was very good, and slipped down a treat, so much so that I ended up over-indulging and knocked back three "medium" sized mugs of this excellent beer.

Fortunately, the following day was our final one in the country and was reserved for sight-seeing rather than business. Our recently arrived colleague Barry, wanted to do his own thing, but if we wanted somewhere close by to visit, he recommended the of Nara, which is home to a large number of impressive shrines, temples, and other World Heritage sites.  Having done our present and souvenir shopping earlier that day with our Japanese colleagues, a spot of culture, plus an escape from the metropolis, seemed a good idea, which is why Marielle and I found ourselves on Kyoto station the following morning, waiting for a train to Nara.

There are two main rail stations in the town, both called Nara, but are distinguished by the train lines they serve: JR (Japan Railways) and Kintetsu. Whilst this can be a little confusing for first-time visitors, the two stations are only a 15-minute walk from each other. We travelled with the JR service, primarily because we had been given a complimentary JR rail pass (basically a Japanese version of an Oyster Card), when we booked our return ticket from and back to Kansai Airport, when we first arrived in the country. This system where separate rail companies run their own separate trains on their own rail tracks, was what John Major envisaged, when he carried out his flawed privatisation of British Rail, between 1994-97, although things didn’t quite turn out the way he planned.

I digress, we had a pleasant journey through the Japanese countryside, and despite feeling rather hungover from the excess Asahi Dark I’d consumed the previous evening, I enjoyed the ride. My colleague was feeling fine, after restricting herself to wine in the Beer Restaurant, so I allowed her to take the lead when it came to navigating our way around the town. Our colleague Barry had told us that the majority of Nara’s temples, and other attractions were located either in, or close to the large deer park sited at the top of the hill, overlooking the town, so after picking up a map from the station, that is where we headed.

There was a definite “resort” feeling about Nara, as we stepped out of the station, and headed towards the deer park, the whole town felt less hurried, less busy and seemed virtually traffic free. The air too, felt cleaner and fresher – probably due to the town’s location amongst the hills and forests of southern Japan. The thumping in my head was starting to subside, and apart from a thirst, cured by drinking copious amounts of water, I was starting to feel much more human than I did when I crawled out of bed that morning.

Nara Park is a large park in central Nara, and is the location of many of the town's main attractions including Todaiji, Kasuga Taisha, Kofukuji and the Nara National Museum. It is also home to hundreds of freely roaming deer. Considered the messengers of the gods, the deer have become a symbol of the city.  "Deer crackers" are for sale around the park, and some deer have learned to bow to visitors to ask to be fed. Nara's deer are surprisingly tame, although they can be aggressive if they think people are about to feed them, so visitors should not try teasing them teasing them with food.

I won’t detail all the temples we saw because a) I can’t remember them all, b) they wouldn’t mean much to those who haven’t visited Nara, and c) there were too many of them, but the one that really stood out, and attracted the largest crowds, was Todaiji the "Great Eastern Temple.” This is one of Japan's most famous and historically significant temples and a landmark of Nara. Todaiji's main hall, the Daibutsuden (Big Buddha Hall), is one of the world's largest wooden building, and houses one of Japan's largest bronze statues of the Buddha, which stands at 15 metres tall.

There were also many well laid out, and attractive gardens, and creating these serene and relaxing spaces, is something the Japanese excel at. Nara Park was teaming with visitors that day, including organised school parties, plus many other visitors, mainly Japanese, but there were some European faces amongst them. 

As we made our way towards one of the exits to the park, we chanced upon a traditional Japanese wedding taking place. This was at Kasuga-Taisha, a Shinto shrine, famous for its lanterns.
These have been donated by worshipers, and hundreds of bronze lanterns can be found hanging from the buildings, while numerous stone lanterns line its approaches.

Upon leaving the park, we made our way back to Nara JR station, for the train back to Kyoto. It had been a fascinating day out, and a fitting end of our visit to the Land of the Rising Sun.

 

Breakast at the Ivy House, at last

Here is another short post for your delectation and delight, and whilst it appears to be yet another article about a pub breakfast (spoiler alert, it is), it was second time lucky on Sunday morning, as far as the Ivy House, at the far end of Tonbridge High Street was concerned. This was because, unlike the scenario which unfolded back in March, the lad and I managed to secure a table in this historic old pub, where we enjoyed a first-class breakfast.

I took the precaution of booking a table the night before, and I also booked it for the civilised time of 10 am. Unless I am going somewhere special, or planning on a hike, I really don't like being rushed on a Sunday. You see, over the years I got fed up with getting up early in order to reach the village hall at Chiddingstone Causeway, before the influx of other customers and the ensuing long wait for a cooked breakfast – nice though it was. That involved ideally getting there for 8.30am or at the very latest 8.45am, which was far too early in my book.

I persuaded Matthew to drive us that morning, primarily because we had some items of shopping, but also because I had a new pair of boots that I wanted to break in – second spoiler alert, I still ended up with a blister on the base of my Achilles tendon. It was a blustery day, with named-storm Kathleen affecting the bulk of Ireland as well as much of Wales and the west coasts of both England and, Scotland, but it was also a day for blowing the cobwebs away. Upon arrival at the pub, and confirming our booking from the previous day, we were shown to the small bar at the far left of the Ivy House, an area which, years ago, constituted the Public Bar. I am going back several decades when I say that, but the pub has had quite a few different owners over the years, with each spending considerable amounts of cash on both renovations and improvements. The Ivy has also found itself trading as a gastro-pub, plus a restaurant with a small bar attached.

Happily, the most recent incarnation has seen the pub restored to its rightful place as an historic and characterful High Street pub, but one which also happens to serve good food as well, which basically means the current owners have got things right. Before describing the breakfast, which btw, was excellent, a word or two about the beer – this is a beer blog, after all. The main stalwart on the bar was Harvey’s Sussex Best, a “must stock” beer for most local pubs, and one which carries a long and unblemished record at the Ivy House. The other beer was Session Pale Ale from Cellar Head Brewing.

The latter are a brewery whose beers I've never really taken to, and it's something I can't quite put my finger on. They must be doing something right though, as their beers seem to crop up all over the place. Cellar Head are based at Flimwell, which is well just over the border into Sussex, and have been brewing a distinctive and wide range of beers since 2017. Look out for their distinctive motif of a man with the sunglasses, bowler hat and the long bushy beard, that resembles a hop cone.

Mrs PBT's is a fan of the Ivy House, and the night before, asked if we we’d booked a table in the covered outdoor
section, at the far right at the building, or in the pub itself.  I told her that we wanted to sit inside and enjoy the ambiance of this historic old inn. “Won't it be rather cramped, in the pub?” was her response, to which I replied that we would cross that bridge when we came to it. As things turned out, it wasn’t crowded at all inside the pub, although it was difficult to see what was going on in the outside area.

 On the table behind us, was Eileen’s boss from the scaffolding company she does work for, together with his partner. They were sitting there, sitting with another couple waiting, like us, for the waitress to come and take their order. I think both Chris and I were equally  surprised to see each other but after exchanging a few pleasantries, we sat down and got on with our conversation whilst those at the neighbouring table did the same. 

Shortly afterwards a waitress came over and took our order, starting with a pot of tea each. Having looked at the Ivy House menu beforehand, I was really looking forward to breakfast there, as I knew it would be top notch. Mrs PBT's is a great believer in the saying that you get what you pay for, and this was certainly true at the Ivy, because when our food arrived the quality was without doubt, first class. The dry-cure bacon had a flavour that was out of this world, and the sausages, from local butchers, Haywards, weren't far behind. My scrambled egg, served on sourdough toast, was light and fluffy, and the Parmentier potatoes were also good, although like Matthew, I would have preferred some hash-browns instead.

That Ivy House breakfast was just right to set up both Matthew and I, for the rest of the day. After saying goodbye to Chris and his partner, we popped round the corner into the main part of the bar and paid the bill. Afterwards we had a bit of shopping to do which mainly involved Matthew’s shop Robert Dyas. I needed some picture hooks, plus some stout garden twine, whilst Matthew had to pick up some shelving, identified as surplus by the store manager at Tonbridge, but eagerly snapped up by the East Grinstead branch of Dyas, where Matthew works.

So that was Sunday morning done with, and I spent a rather lazy afternoon, catching up on the blog, whilst managing to avoid doing any gardening. I has another reason for wanting to take things easy, as the new pair of boots I bought, three weeks previously from George at Asda. I wanted to start breaking them in, so I wore them to breakfast that morning. They were a little tight around the heel and alarms bells should have rang, but I persisted, nevertheless. So, as mentioned earlier, I ended up with a blister in the area between the top of my heel, and the base of my Achilles tendon.

That wasn’t the first time I’ve made such an error, as several years ago, on a visit to Cologne for a trade show, where I was representing the company on our sales stand, walking across the Rhine river, from our hotel to the exhibition centre on the first morning of the exhibition, was sufficient to crucify my heel. Despite this setback, I will break in these boots, and I'm sure that with a bit of dedication, they will become comfortable and will end up fitting like a well-worn glove.

 

 

Samuel Smths's legendary Yorkshire Stingo

What I’m going to write about now is a very special beer, in fact it’s so special that it’s the stuff of legends. Named after an 18th century slang word for strong or old ale, Samuel Smith’s Yorkshire Stingo is a bottle conditioned ale that is fermented in Yorkshire stone squares, and then aged in oak casks for over a year, in Sam Smith's underground cellars. Yeast and sugar are added when the ale is bottled to induce a second fermentation in the bottle.

Samuel Smith’s are Yorkshire’s oldest brewery, and can race their history back to 1758, a date that features prominently on the label for the company’s Yorkshire Stingo. This strong ale is brewed to a strength of 8.0% abv, before being aged in oak ale casks, as describes above, and unlike some strong ales, this classic and highly sought after beer, really does live up to its reputation. It is also rather hard to come by, although I did notice the other day that it is available on Amazon. It is normally available in bottled form only, but back in November 2019, Sam’s announced that for the first time ever, Yorkshire Stingo the beer would be served straight from an oak cask at a limited number of their London pubs. This would be from the end of November until Christmas.

Same of you might recall my attempts to track this legendary beer down, when I visited the Princess Louise, a beautifully restored, Victorian masterpiece in Holborn, and one of the jewels of Sam Smith’s tied, London estate. I wrote at the time how my excitement had mounted when, after entering the pub, I noticed a pump, advertising “Oak barrel-aged” Yorkshire Stingo. That joy quickly turned to gloom, when the barman informed me, stocks had run out. To make matters worse, he didn’t know when the pub would be getting more in.

Disappointed or what?? Word had obviously been passed around on the beer bush telegraph, although as a few lucky enthusiasts had revealed, this wasn’t a just a publicity stunt, and the beer had actually been on sale. I wrote at the time that I was unlikely to be visiting the capital this side of Christmas, not knowing that the worst pandemic in just over a century was slowly making it was from central China, and out across the entire globe. There would be no further attempts to track down Yorkshire Stingo, for a couple of years, and it wasn’t until yesterday, in fact, that I finally managed to sample this legendary beer for the first time.

If Yorkshire Stingo is only available in cask, on special occasions, it is almost as rare in bottled form as well. The Christmas before last (2022), I was fortunate to pick up a bottle at Armstrong’s – an independent, family-owned business in East Grinstead. I fully intended on drinking this bottler over the festive season but after noticing the BBE date of Dec 23, on the neck of the bottle, I decided to give it another year. I noticed the bottle the other day, so thought that I’d better crack it open, but fortunately the contents proved none the worse for being 3 months passed that date.

Before opening the bottle, I read the back label which described how some of the oak casks at Samuel Smith’s date back more than a century, with the individual oak staves being replaced by the Old Brewery coopers, as and when necessary. Yorkshire Stingo is matured in these well-used oak casks, which over the years will have absorbed more and more of the character of the ale that began its life by being fermented in stone Yorkshire squares. As this strong, special ale slowly matures in the brewery cellar, it picks up flavours of vine fruit, raisins, treacle toffee, Christmas pudding and slight oaky tones.

These aromas were apparent as soon as I cracked open the crown cap, and when I first tasted the beer, I discovered a slight vinous taste that enhanced the flavour of the beer, rather than detracting from it. The beer itself, poured with a tight, fluffy head, which subsided very slowly. Despite being bottle conditioned, the beer was wonderfully clear, with a deep amber colour, that contrasted well with the dense, white head. Due to its strength, I have consumed the bottle over the course of two evenings – partially re-capped it, and placed it in the fridge, until earlier this evening.

I can therefore thoroughly recommend Yorkshire Stingo, should you be lucky enough to come across a bottle. Samuel Smith’s, of course, produce a wide range of bottled beers, as you can see from the photo, and I still have a few other interesting ones to try. I purchased them from the aforementioned Armstrong’s of East Grinstead, which appears to be the nearest Sam Smith’s stockist to here, and I shall be writing about a few of them, in a subsequent post.

 

 

 

A couple of National Inventory pubs at Sandgate by the sea

Easter Monday, and after a weekend of digging, digging and more digging I felt the urge to escape, so I that’s what I did. The previous evening I’d been looking at pubs on CAMRA’s National Heritage list, in order to tick one off, and whilst one of them, the Earl of Clarendon at Sandgate had been on my radar for some time, the fact that there was a couple of two-star rated pubs in the same seaside town, clinched it for me.

Sandgate, which lies between the towns of Hythe and Folkestone, is classed as a village, although in my mind it’s more of a small town. I have memories of this settlement from childhood, as it lies on the route my father always took when taking the family on a drive to nearby Folkestone. Both my parents were very fond of the place, and it wasn’t unusual for us to spend an afternoon in the town. So, shopping for mum, at the stylish, but long-closed, Bobby’s department store. Dad’s role was primarily that of chauffeur, whilst for my sister and I it was a trip out, plus the chance to pick up a comic, a toy, or both in one of the local shops, and perhaps even an ice cream

As mentioned above, it had been in my mind for some time to make a return visit to the Earl of Clarendon, as the last time I set foot in the pub must have been back in the early 1980’s, but how to get to Sandgate by public transport, was the issue. I checked on Google to see which, if any buses ran to the village from either of Folkestone’s rail stations, only to discover it was just over 1.5 miles on foot from Folkestone West. I also noticed on the way, that the route passed the Ship Inn, Sandgate’s other pub with an interior of national, historic interest. It would therefore be possible to visit both National Inventory pubs in an afternoon.

I arrived at Tonbridge station in sufficient time, not just to buy my ticket, but also to purchase that all important train coffee. By general consensus amongst my friends and I, FCB Coffee, with its opening into the station booking hall, serves by far the best coffee in town. The company also has outlets at eight other stations, primarily in London and the South East, so keep an eye out for these when travelling by train.

The train wasn’t crowded, and I had a pleasant and uneventful journey down to Folkestone. I don’t think I have ever used the town’s west station before, as the central station is far more convenient for the town centre, and the Leas Cliff Hall. The latter was the venue for many visiting rock groups during my teenage years, including Fleetwood Mac, Uriah Heep, Caravan, Groundhogs and many other early 1970’s acts that appealed to sixth form school boys. We passed through a heavy shower on the journey along from Ashford, but the rain had stopped by the time the train reached Folkestone.

I was relying on Google maps to navigate my way down to the Sandgate seafront, although I had taken the precaution of writing down the names of the roads. I don’t like trying to follow Google on my phone, as the display likes to re-orientate itself, whereas I prefer to have the screen oriented in the direction of travel. Despite this initial confusion, I soon reached the main A259 Folkestone road. Looking later, at the map, I discovered there is a private road that cuts through parkland surrounding the headquarters of the SAGA Group. This is the organisation that looks after the interests of the over-50’s, and the group is still one of the largest employers in the area, as well as a major benefactor.

It wasn’t much further to the Earl of Clarendon, but would the pub be open? The Clarendon’s website was down the night before, but whilst checking my phone on the train journey down from Tonbridge, I noticed to my horror that the pub doesn’t open until 4pm on Mondays. There was no mention of this on What Pub so, not wanting to turn back I plodded steadily on, keeping my fingers crossed that on Bank Holiday Monday, the pub would open at Midday. Fortunately, it did, although I only found this out after fact checking with a couple, I met just a few blocks away from the pub.

My last visit to the Earl of Clarendon had back in the early 1980’s, when it was a Shepherd Neame tied house. Shep’s used to run a “Passport Scheme” back in then, as a means of encouraging drinkers to visit as many of their pubs as possible. With a different, and unique stamp for every pub, the idea was to buy a pint, and then get your cardboard, passport-style booklet stamped. Prizes ranging from “T” shirts, ties, sweat shirts and even an ornate pottery tankard were awarded, depending on the number of stamps in ones’ passport, and hence the number of Shepherd Neame pubs visited.

I still remember visiting the Clarendon with the previous Mrs Bailey, after cycling to Sandgate from my parent’s bungalow, which was in the small village of Brook, a few miles outside Ashford. We had been staying there, house-sitting whilst my parents were on holiday, enjoying one of their numerous caravan trips. Walking up the steep, and narrow cobbled street leading to the pub, was a reminder of that visit, and having to push our bikes up what seemed like the side of a mountain, eagerly awaiting a cooling and refreshing pint of Master Brew – back in the day when Shep’s were still producing decent beer.

The Earl of Clarendon was originally built as a hotel and provided refreshment to troops stationed in the area at the nearby Shorncliffe Camp, as it is on a path between the barracks and the sea. It belonged to several different breweries over time, starting out with local brewers Mackeson of Hythe, Whitbread and then Shepherd Neame, before becoming today’s free house. The pub was empty when I arrived, although both front doors were open. The landlord was sitting at one of the side tables reading the paper, when I bowled in. I noticed there were two cask ales on the bank of unusual-looking, hand pulls, one from the local Romney Marsh Brewery and the other from Parkway Brewing Co. I remember trying one of their beers at the well-known Bell in Bath, but this time I decided to stick with the local beer and go for a pint of the 4.5% Marsh IPA.

The beer was excellent, and mine host told me it was a newish brew from Romney Marsh. I told him that we rarely see beers from that that brewery in West Kent, and this led us on to discussing other beers. He said that he particularly misses Old Dairy (so do I), and he blamed their demise on Brexit, and the amount of red tape now necessary to export goods to the European Union. I replied that leaving the EU was supposed to reduce unnecessary form filling, where in fact we all know the opposite was true.

A whole discussion then ensued, mainly revolving around him having to sell his property in France – the one him and his wife had spent the past 20 years restoring. I shan’t say anymore, otherwise certain people will wade in and say, “There he goes again, banging on about Brexit!” Regrettably, the hard facts speak for themselves, as my company, and our many customers within the EU, know only too well, much more of course than the Daily Mail, a publication the landlord was particularly scathing about.

I asked the licensee if I could have a wander about and take a few photos, so following a nod of approval, you can see for yourselves the plain, but rather attractive interior of the pub. Shortly afterwards, a couple and their grown-up son came in, although it was disappointing to see that there wasn’t a cask drinker amongst them. Guinness and Peroni seemed the drinks of choice, so wanting to do my bit for cask, I ordered another pint of Marsh IPA.

Whilst enjoying it, I was working out in my mind, the time to the next pub (10 minutes), plus the timings of trains back to Tonbridge, and having done so, I drank up, thanked the landlord for his time and wished him well with his property sale. I then headed down to the seafront and walked along the promenade to the Famous Ship Inn. According to What Pub, this narrow corner pub extends from the High Street to the beach, with the middle part forming the original alehouse dating from 1798. The restaurant with sea views and upstairs deck for drinkers were added in 2010. If I’m honest, I found the place rather underwhelming and failed to see why the Ship had secured its listing on the National Inventory.

Apparently, the historic interior interest here is the front bar, which is claimed to have been refitted in 1948. This would have been unusual in the immediate aftermath of the second world war, when there was a severe shortage of building materials. The walls have full-height panelling, together with a panelled ceiling, a horizontally boarded counter, fixed seating, a gently curved concave fire surround and an array of seats and tables made out of old casks. I can remember lots of pubs receiving similar treatment, later than the late 40’s, I grant you, but still nothing special in my book.

The front bar was rather crowded, so I didn’t manage any photos, and instead, headed for the large room to the left of the narrow corridor, where the walls were also panelled, although this time painted green. On the way through, I’d picked up a half of Dark Star, Hophead which was in fine form. The pub itself seemed pleasant enough and seemed popular with family groups, but I was thinking it a shame that the Providence Inne, just across the way, looked more interesting. “A pub, the way we think a pub should be,” according to the website – well, don’t you think it should be open, then?

It was time to go, so I navigated my way back to Folkestone West. Needless to say, the toilets were locked – don’t they think that people might want to use them on a bank holiday afternoon? I had a 10-minute wait for my train, although there was a Javelin HST due imminently. For the uninitiated, the Javelins operate as normal South Eastern trains until they reach Ashford. They then switch onto the high-speed rail line HS1, towards the capital, stopping only at Ebbsfleet and Stratford (both stations with the suffix “International”, even though no Eurostar services have stopped there, since the before the pandemic!)

The toilet was of greater concern to me, but fortunately it was open, there was no queue, and it was relatively clean. I arrived at Ashford, in time to change platforms, and grab an expensive cup of coffee (Starbucks), before my train back to Tonbridge pulled in.  So one excellent pub, which brought back a few memories, plus one not so memorable. However, speaking of memories, my walk along the seafront, at Sandgate, certainly brought back a few happy ones, from childhood.