An expensive make-over for the Vauxhall Inn, Tonbridge

There are two pubs within easy walking distance of Bailey Towers, and by this, I mean a 10-minute stroll. Both pubs are quite ancient in appearance and form, as evidenced by the attractive, period buildings, they are housed in. Both date back several centuries, and interestingly the first of these establishments only became a pub shortly after World War II. That particular pub is the Cardinal’s Error, and I shall deal with it in a subsequent article, but for now I want to talk about the second of the two pubs, which is the Vauxhall, a former coaching inn, situated on the edge of Tonbridge and close to the main A21 Hastings – London highway.

When I first moved to Tonbridge the Vauxhall was a fairly basic and perhaps a trifle run down boozer, but it had character and a welcoming open fire in the winter. Like many local pubs at the time, it was owned by Whitbread, and back in the mid 80’s was the perfect place to take the family dog to, after she’d had been exercised around the nearby fields. Several years later, Whitbread sold the Vauxhall off to a small, and recently established pub company, who had a handful of pubs scattered across West Kent. The pub was extended to the rear and also joined to a former stable block, that was originally a “stand alone” building.

This effectively trebled the Vauxhall in size, with the original part of the pub forming an extended bar, whilst the rear extension, plus the old stable block acting as the main dining areas. The real open fires were replaced by fake, gas-fuelled "log-effect" fires and the place re-opened as a "Chimneys" restaurant.  Dogs of course were no longer welcome, so I too decided that my custom was not wanted either and took myself elsewhere. In 2012 the Vauxhall returned to the Whitbread fold and became a Chef and Brewer pub. It was a pleasant enough place to go for a quiet drink, even though prices were on the dear side, and as far as dogs were concerned, we had lost our hound 10 years or so previously.

Since then, I’ve had a pretty much indifferent association with the pub, as had my wife primarily, because the Vauxhall was chosen by her group of friends as a convenient meeting place. I’m right in saying, that pretty much every time she’s come back disappointed. She’s also convinced that the pub is haunted, because things are continually going wrong there. Somewhere along the line, the pub passed into the ownership of Greene King, leaving Whitbread to concentrate on running the Premier Inn, situated at the rear of the pub. If you can put up with the traffic noise, the Premier makes a good base for those visiting the area and wishing to explore it further.

Apart from last weekend (see below), my last time of dining at the Vauxhall was in July 2023. Matthew and I ate there at a time when Mrs PBT’s was feeling poorly. I won’t go into too much detail about that, but you can read more about it here, should you wish. That evening, whilst there was a reasonable number of customers in the pub, it wasn't exactly heaving. Also, as most of the diners were already there when we arrived, Matthew and I ended up being the last to leave. The quality of the food was good, and I enjoyed a chicken and ham hock pie, served up with mash, vegetables, and gravy. Matthew went for his usual choice of a burger.

Moving swiftly on, last Sunday, Matthew took me to the Vauxhall for a Father's Day. It was the first weekend that the Vauxhall had been open since closing last month for a major renovation ahead of the summer season. If the reports are true, Greene King spent a six-figure sum, on a facelift designed to achieve a new look inside, with new furnishings to modernise it while honouring its “rich heritage”. This was a bold, and possibly a brave move too, given it was Father’s Day, although I’m guessing that Mothering Sunday, is THE special occasion when families enjoy taking their mother out for lunch, to show appreciation and express gratitude for their mothers.

It was a bold decision by the Vauxhall management to reopen during over such a significant weekend, although I’m not certain that it was the right, or indeed the wise one. Our mid-afternoon arrival was probably after the peak lunchtime period, but the staff were obviously still adjusting to the changes, brought as a result of the makeover. Space management seemed to be a challenge, and whilst Matthew and I were waiting to be served, I overheard a staff member expressing concern about running out of glasses. In actuality, it seemed the problem was not a lack of glasses, but rather that no one had collected the empty ones and loaded them into the dishwasher. A more obvious issue seemed to be lack of space behind the bar counter, as the expensive upgrade hadn’t addressed what must have been an issue prior to the makeover.

I was left thinking what had the money been spent on, as apart from the chintzy-looking furniture, not much seemed to have changed. Being a warm day, many customers were sat outside, so the pair of us had little difficulty in finding a seat. The beers on sale were the obvious duo of IPA and Abbot, plus a new one for me in the form of a golden ale brewed specially for Chef & Brewer, called, rather unimaginatively Golden Nectar. This 3.4% abv offering was pleasant enough, although it’s no Taylor's Landlord, or Fuller's London Pride, but it was in good condition. I can’t say how much it was, as the round was Matthew’s “treat”.

In summary, I am unlikely to be returning, and whilst she wasn’t present, I doubt that Mrs PBT’s will either, given her previous experiences of the place. As for the bad vibes surrounding the place, the pub, rumoured to be haunted by the ghost of a young girl who was brutally murdered nearby in 1901. You can read the full story here, should you wish.

Three of the best - Newhaven, Stornoway and Cobh

There were three, standout destinations on our recent cruise around the British Isles. Two of them I've already written about, albeit quite briefly in the case of the second, but they all stand out well. Those destinations were Newhaven, Stornoway and Cobh. The first two ports of call were in Scotland, whilst the third was in the Republic of Ireland, and it was the latter, and final destination that, for me, was the outstanding of the three. So, let’s take a brief look back at the two Scottish settlements, before taking a more detailed examination of Cobh, a town remembered for all the wrong reasons. This is due to it being the final port of call for the Titanic before setting off on its ill-fated voyage across the Atlantic, and that collision with the iceberg.

First up is Newhaven, a district of Edinburgh which borders the much better-known port of Leith. The only downside of our visit to the town, was having to be transferred across from Queen Anne’s anchorage in the Firth of Forth, by “tender,” which in this instance was the ship’s fleet of lifeboats. The journey across was fine, but what wasn’t so good was the lengthy wait in order to board one of the tenders. After a pleasant, and calm trip across to the pint-sized harbour, I stepped ashore and set off to explore Newhaven. The town has an attractive sea front, overlooking the Firth of Forth in a delightful setting, and if that wasn’t enough has a number of excellent pubs.

Next up is Stornoway, capital of the Hebridean island of Lewis and Harris and by far the largest town in the Outer Hebrides. Our ship docked mid-afternoon, but Mrs PBT’s and I left our trip into the town until the following morning.  Our berth for the duration of our stay was Stornoway’s new, deep-water cruise terminal, a construction so recent that the surrounding rocks still bear scars from having been blasted from the surrounding hillside. The Scottish Government has invested wisely in this new terminal, in the belief that it will allow cruise ships to visit this outlying Hebridean settlement, and I’m sure their speculation will pay off.

A free bus shuttle, running every 20 minutes, transported visitors into the heart of Stornoway or, if you were feeling adventurous, there was an off-road footpath, with a walking time of 50-60 minutes into town. Stornoway was a pleasant, and quite substantial, self-contained community, with many of the retail outlets that grace towns in other parts of the UK. Mrs PBT’s was happy with the presence of a Boots, plus a Peacocks, and I confess to making a purchase at the latter establishment as well. We partook of some liquid refreshment at the Star Inn, a cracking little pub looking out across the harbour. No cask, of course, but only to be expected in this part of the world, with the Guinness proving a worthwhile substitute.

We then come to Cobh, which was the real highlight of the Around the British Isles cruise. From 1849 until 1920, Cobh was known as Queenstown, but following the creation of the Irish Free State, the newly independent nation, quite understandably, wanted to drop all references to the British crown, and the royal connections were dropped. 

The town reverted to its original name, and today this town of 14,000 inhabitants, acts as the port for the nearby city of Cork. With its island setting, overlooking a large natural harbour, Cobh’s deep-water facilities mean ships can dock right in the heart of the town.  One such ship, of course, was the aforementioned Titanic, a vessel that is remembered for all the wrong reasons, but for those interested in tragic events from more than a century ago, the Titanic Experience Cobh is a themed attraction, housed in the former ticket office of the White Star Line.

Our day in Cobh was characterised by perfect weather conditions, with spells of bright, warm and welcoming summer sunshine. All this contributed to a holiday-like atmosphere, with flags flying in the breeze, and a band of local guardsmen entertaining the crowds from the bandstand, sited along the promenade.  The town’s setting was gorgeous, with some fine properties set up on the hillside overlooking the expanse of water contained by the arms of the surrounding hills. 

For those feeling slightly more adventurous, there is a regular train service into Cork, which departs from Cobh station, sited just a few 100 yards away from stepping off of the ship. With a journey time of just 20 minutes, it would have been worth making the journey into the Republic’s second largest city. However, with plenty to occupy visitors in Cobh itself, and a holiday atmosphere about the place, Mrs PBT's and I were quite content to remain where we were.

It was time for a beer, and time too for experiencing some true Irish hospitality. There were several pubs, stretched out along the road that runs along the seafront, but most were bursting at the seams, as they attempted to cater for the dozens of thirsty visitors who, like us, had come straight off the cruise ship. 

Fortunately, we found a seat at the Mauretania, a traditional and quite basic pub of the sort that was once quite, common in Britain, but which now is increasingly rare. It was a proper Irish boozer, with a warm welcome, plus a good selection of beers, including some excellent Murphy's.

Back in the late 1980’s, a pint of Cork-based, Murphy’s Irish stout, was a common sight in UK pubs, alongside stout from rival brewery Beamish & Crawford, who are also from Cork. It’s a long time since I last had a pint of Murphy’s, as whilst the beer is still available in canned form in Britain, I can’t recall seeing it on draught for many a long year. It was really good though, dark, smooth, creamy and delicious, and to my mind far superior to the much vaunted, and much more widely available Guinness. Apart from packets of Tayto crisps, there was no food, but the nice atmosphere more than made up for it. The only downside, according to Mrs PBT’s, was the steep, and narrow staircase up to the equally cramped “Ladies.”  I had to laugh, although Eileen didn't find it quite so amusing!  After leaving the Mauretania, we took a stroll back to where our ship was moored, but before going back onboard, had a look around the Titanic Visitor Experience.  

Cobh was definitely one of the highlights of the cruise, if not the main one, and as the last port of call, before heading for home, we went up onto Queen Anne’s top deck, where we soaked up the nautical setting, as the ship slipped its anchor, and majestically sailed out of Cork Harbour. We passed the former fortress, and prison of Spike Island, before heading back out into the Irish Sea, and a journey, through the most tranquil of seas, back to Southampton.

 

Home, sweet home

We’ve been back from the cruise now for a week and a half, and although feeling rested after two weeks away from home, rolling about on the high seas, we’ve come home to a mountain of work. Some of you may remember me mentioning having a new kitchen fitted, whilst we were away, and whilst it was obviously a good idea to have the work carried out in our absence, we arrived home to find the place in chaos. Like nearly all construction projects, the job over ran, and whilst not by much, it was still sufficient to cause more than its fair share of chaos.

Although the majority of the work was complete, many items were either out of place, or packed away in various boxes, and then tucked away in the garden shed. The most significant issue was the amount of dust, which was perhaps inevitable given the poor condition of the room to begin with. The previous owner of the property had a fixation for pine match-board, which he used to line the kitchen walls, but what might once have been fashionable in the late 1970’s, now looked drab and decidedly outdated. It certainly made the room appear very dark, a look accentuated by the fact that whilst pinewood starts off very light in colour, it darkens significantly with age.

Moreover, the ceiling was in poor condition, a fact made worse by this person’s clumsy DIY attempt at covering it in Artex. The stuff was all the rage during the post-war years, but I have never been a fan of  as it collects dust and looks untidy, even when professionally applied. Left to a bodging amateur, the finish is as bad as you can imagine, but fortunately all that has changed, with the installation of a nice, smooth replacement ceiling directly over the old one. The same applied to the walls, as I’m sure you can imagine the damage caused when it came to removing the pine match boarding. The kitchen now has smooth, professionally plastered walls and ceilings, along with a new vinyl floor covering. Also included in the deal were the cupboards, drawers, work surfaces and appliances, including a gas hob, electric oven, and much to our delight, a dishwasher.

We started the clear out of the old kitchen, several few weeks before our holiday, a job that included the room that connects the space to the dining and office area. We spent a significant amount of time boxing-up crockery, cooking utensils and cutlery, taking some  items to the charity shop, whilst disposing of others. It was a race against time, as the deadline loomed for our Sunday morning departure, but we managed by the skin of our teeth to clear the kitchen-cum-dining room, storing items we wanted to keep in our garden summer house. A few days before leaving, we handed over the keys to the two brothers we’d engaged to carry out the work and then left son Matthew in charge of the property.

That worked well for the first week, but for the second one, the lad was dog-sitting for his cousin, looking after three very lively spaniels. Rather him than us, as he certainly had his work cut out with these hounds, but it did give him a break, plus a change of scenery as well.  His cousin’s house also provided Matthew with a place to shower because halfway through the build project, our hot water system developed a fault. The cause was later identified as a build up of sludge, plus a malfunctioning pump, which was relatively easy to rectify. This isn't the first time that something like this has happened during our absence, but in this instance we’re fairly certain that replacing a radiator in the dining room and thereby disturbing the sludge that had built up in the system, was the cause of the incident.

It was straight back to work on Monday morning, but fortunately my in-tray, or should that be inbox, wasn’t too full, although on the home front it’s back to the clutter and the “joy” of sorting through several decades of accumulated junk. I made a rather half-hearted effort before we went away, but now I have some time to go through what has been haphazardly stored in the shed. I trust that Mrs. PBT will do the same, as she tends to keep many items, but I get the impression that this time around she will grasp the opportunity, and finally let go of things she no longer requires, or indeed desires.

That’s more than enough domesticity for now, but in spite of the upheaval remain convinced that we did the right thing by having our kitchen replacement carried out whilst we were away from the property. And as things slowly get back to some semblance of normality, I shall have more time for the pleasurable things in life, such as trips to the pub. I’ve only had time for a couple of pub visits, so far, one of which involved some excellent Goacher’s beer, in one of their tied pubs- the Rifle Volunteer, in Maidstone. Closer to home, there are several pubs that are due to re-open following either refurbishment, or a change of ownership. So, some interesting times in the pub trade, as well as things closer to home.

 

 

 

A day in Liverpool

The day after Bank Holiday Mondays' disturbing events in Liverpool, Mrs PBT's and I spent some time time ashore in the city. The incessant rain didn't help lift the rather sombre mood in the city, although it didn't seem to deter tourists, or indeed cruise ship passengers. There was an air of excitement onboard ship, as Princess Anne had been due to visit the ship that day, and my good lady wife was keen to catch a glimpse of the royal personage. The Princess Royal's schedule was delayed, because quite understandably the royal personage had stopped off to visit one of Liverpool's hospitals where people injured in the previous day's "incident" were being treated. 

It was my wife's idea, rather than mine, to indulge in a spot of princess spotting, although in the interests of marital harmony,  I went along with her. We ended up flitting  around the ship in search of the elusive "Mrs Lawrence", although as things turned out, we'd have been better staying in our cabin. From our balcony,we would have had a bird's eye view of the royal party as they arrived, as well as saving ourselves a lot of dashing about. We apparently just missed the royal personage as we were getting out of the lift, not that it really bothered me. Five decades ago, when I was a student at Salford University, Anne's late father the Duke of Edinburgh, visited paid a visit to the campus in his capacity of  University Chancellor. Myself, plus a group of friends had been hanging around in much the same fashion, trying to catch a glimpse of "Phil the Greek", and were surprised when he wandered across to where we were standing, to say hello. 

That was then, and this was now, and once the Princess Royal and her party had departed, it was time for Eileen and I to go ashore. So, despite the rain, which by now had started to fall in earnest, we stepped off the ship and set off to explore the city. 

We headed along the water front towards the Albert Dock, and after stopping for the obligatory photo of ourselves by the statue of Liverpool's most famous sons, the Beatles aka, the Fab Four, found a convenient coffee shop, next to the Beatle's Experience. I explained to Eileen that there weren't many pubs in the direction we were heading in, and that we'd be better off climbing up the hill towards Lime Street station. She wasn't over keen on the idea, so we agreed to part company, and meet up back at the ship.

So, I set off into the city, in search of a few public houses. I had a few possibilities in mind, although one was probably rather ambitious. That particular pub was the Roscoe Head, an outlet that has featured in every edition of CAMRA's Good Beer Guide. That's 54 issues, at the last count, and the Roscoe is one of just five pubs to have achieved this distinction. Looking at Google Maps, it was about 30 minute's walk from the city centre, not too far, but far enough, especially in view of the heavy rain, so with no firm plan in mind, I set off in a roughly northerly direction to see what I could find. When we first got off the ship, I had a brief chat with one of the advisors from the Liverpool Tourist Authority, regarding the best pubs nearby, and the quickest, plus most convenient routes to them.

The area where the previous evening's incident took place, was still cordoned off, and to a much greater extent than I expected, so I continued up the hill where a block or two away, I noticed an Okell's pub I'd been to before. Back in April 2010, I enjoyed a pint of Okell's Bitter at the Thomas Rigby. I was on my way across to the Isle of Man, where that year's CAMRA AGM was taking place, and had a couple of hours to kill before the IOM sea-cat departed to the island. The Thomas Rigby was inaccessible, this time around, stuck on the wrong side of the police cordon, erected around the previous day's crime scene, but the nearby Railway, was well and truly open. Decked out in the livery of Robert Cain, a legendary, former Merseyside brewer, it looked very inviting, so I stepped inside.

 I discovered a well-laid out, multi-room establishment that was buzzing which, for a wet and windy, post-bank holiday,  Tuesday afternoon, was a real turn-up for the books. I ordered a pint of Higson's Pale, which turned out to be an excellent drop of beer. Higson's was another, equally famous Liverpudlian brewery, before succumbing to the advances of Boddington's of Manchester. 

The Higson's name has now been revived under the ownership of the Home Bargains chain  and, according to the barman, its beers are now produced by a brewery based in Liverpool's Baltic Triangle area.  I noticed the menu board on the wall, and found the prospect of a fish-finger sandwich too good to resist. At just £7.95 it was good value, especially when it turned up with a small wire basket of chips! With a pint of good beer, a tasty and filling lunch, plus the vibes associated with a thriving, and traditional city-centre alehouse, what was there not to like?

Whilst tempted to stop for another, I thought it would be good to visit another pub whilst in the city, so after consulting What Pub, set off along a side street. Unfortunately there was a police barricade at the bottom of the road, indicating I had inadvertently entered the exclusion zone surround the scene of Monday's incident. Retracing my footsteps, I stopped to take a few photos of what I thought was the other corner of the Railway, even though it was actually another fine, traditional pub called the Lion Tavern. I didn't realise my mistake until back on board ship, and only then after stumbling across the Lion in the book I was reading at the time. 

"A Pub All Seasons" by Adrian Tierney-Jones, constituted my chosen reading material for the cruise, and whilst I still haven't finished it, I've read more than enough to know what Adrian is getting at in this real gem of a book. I'll leave out the name-dropping, despite having met Mr Tierney-Jones, but without giving too much away (I will probably write a review of the book, in the fullness of time), the publication can best be summed up by the sub-title- "A Yearlong Journey in Search of the Perfect British Local." Starting with autumn, Adrian works his way through the four seasons, contrasting the mood and the atmosphere that he finds in journeys up and down the land. Two days after our cruise ship departed Liverpool, our intrepid author finds himself in Liverpool where, unlike me, he finds time to visit the Roscoe Head.

His description was enough to make me wish I'd called in at the Roscoe, but worse is to come, as on page 145, Adrian stops off at the Lion Tavern - the very same Lion I mistook for the rear of the Railway. I'd obviously missed another gem of a pub, and one which, if anything surpassed the adjacent Railway. It's obviously easy to be wise after the event, but had I been a few pages further on in the book, then I could have visited the Lion, alongside the Railway.

We're getting near the end now,  and I ended up at the nearby Denbigh Castle, thanks in no small part to the aforementioned police "exclusion zone."  Situated in the quirky named Hackins Hey, just off Dale Street, the Denbigh Castle is one of two pubs owned by the independent Small Hands Company. 

 With its attractive, blue-painted frontage, spacious and well-laid out bar, plus four cask ales, it was quieter inside the pub than was the case at the Railway, and there were fewer customers as well, but the pub had a nice chilled-out atmosphere. A pint of Heaps of Sheeps from Castle Rock Brewery, rounded off the afternoon, before I headed back to the Queen Anne, and a catch up with Mrs PBT's.