Confined to quarters!

I suppose it was inevitable really, and the only surprise is that it has taken so long. After all, the pandemic caused by the SARS-CoV-2, virus, has been with us the best part of two years. So, after managing to successfully evade Covid-19 since March 2020, I tested positive yesterday morning, and have now been confined to quarters.

Now I am not one of those people obsessed with testing themselves every day, so the reason I took a lateral-flow-test was that I felt somewhat under the weather during Saturday. Come Sunday, what I first thought was just a minor sniffle had turned into more of a full-blown cold., with a runny nose, sneezing, headache plus aching limbs.

So out came one of the lateral-flow kits I’d obtained from work, and whilst at first everything seemed fine, before the 30-minute cut-off time had elapsed, a thin red line appeared next to the “T.” It was quite faint, and whilst I was at first, tempted to dismiss it, I checked further on the NHS website. Their advice was even a faint line nest to the “T” must be regarded as positive.

It was then panic stations in the Bailey household, whilst wife and son checked their status. Fortunately, and for the time being at least, they both tested negative, but I was unceremoniously bundled up to the back bedroom and shut in – locked away from the world, only allowed out to use the bathroom.

I also had to scan the QR code on the test cassette and submit it to the NHS Test & Trace service, so that they could contact me, and tell what I already knew. The last day of my 10-day self-isolation is 15^th February, although from day 5, which is the 10^th February, I can start taking lateral flow tests. If I record negative tests, two days in row, I can end my incarceration after the second negative test. All quite intriguing, but also very efficient after the cock-ups that occurred when Dido (without an “l”), as in charge.

And so, here I am. I don’t feel that bad, as the symptoms are more in line with a bad cold and can be kept in check with regular dosed of paracetamol. Mrs PBT’s understandably is taking no chances, so it’s meals on a tray, left at the foot of the stairs and communication my mobile, or failing that, by shouting. Despite her feigned grumpiness, she’s a very good nurse, and I’m being well looked after.

I was somewhat puzzled as to how and where I’d managed to pick up this particular dose which, from the sound of things, is probably the Omicron variant. A call in to work this morning, revealed that two colleagues had also gone down with Covid, one on Thursday and the other the following day. 

Because I only work Monday to Wednesday, I was unaware, until this morning, that mycolleagues had gone down with the same ailment, but as the three of us sit in the same part of the office, it all falls into place, and also points to Omicron being responsible, due to its much higher rate of transmission.

I’ve had quite a busy morning though, as I can pick-up and answer emails from my desktop PC at home, so I’ve been re-scheduling appointments, and also re-arranging the Manual Handling Awareness training, due to take place this coming Friday. I imagine my Covid-stricken colleagues will be doing the same, especially our sales manager.

I don’t actually mind, as to helps to pass the time, but the one area I am concerned about is the lack of exercise. I am quite an active person and with the aid of my Smart Watch – soon to be upgraded, monitor my step count, on a regular basis. Whilst I don’t usually reach the magic 10K over the course of a normal working day, I do get past 7K, so yesterday’s total of 786 steps is quite derisive. Today’s quantity is looking even worse, as it’s only just passed the 300 mark!

 

So, tomorrow I shall head out into our lengthy garden at the rear of the house, but without passing through the living room and kitchen. It will be straight down the stairs, and back along the passage at the side of the property, followed by numerous circuits of the garden. I might even put in some more work on my greenhouse restoration project, which is coming to fruition, quite nicely. With the first week in February already behind us, it’s getting closer to the time when the greenhouse will be needed to bring on seedlings, and protect vulnerable plants, and because of the reduction in my working hours, I have now had the time to get stuck into these projects.

Indoors, I’ve made a start on sorting through various accumulate paperwork, especially that relating to the three pension schemes I’ve been a member of. Because I am still working, albeit part-time, I haven’t drawn on any of these investments yet, but they do need keeping an eye on, and collating the paperwork.

If I really get bored there’s a TV in the room I can watch, along with a pile of books I’ve yet to read, but before signing off, I will echo the words of one of my colleagues, who copped a dose of Covid, during the run-up to Christmas. Although it’s unpleasant, she said, just imagine how much worse it might be had the vaccines not come along, so to all those unvaccinated souls out there, and there are still quite a few, do yourselves and the rest of us a favour and get a shot!

50 Years of CAMRA

Amongst several books I received for Christmas, was on entitled “50 years of CAMRA.” It’s the official biography of the Campaign for Real Ale and tells the story of how what started as half-baked idea, amongst four young friends, on a drinking holiday in Ireland, grew into Europe’s largest, single-issue consumer movement. I finished reading my copy, a few days ago, and found it an absorbing and, at times, enlightening read. It was hard to put down at times, something that is always a hallmark of a good book.

The book contains first-hand accounts from CAMRA members, brewers, licensees, and industry observers, detailing the highs and lows of the Campaign. Beer writer, Laura Hadland, was specially commissioned to write the book, and has done a first-class job. This is despite much of the research having to be conducted remotely, due to the various lock-down restrictions.

"50 years of CAMRA" is neatly and logically structured and starts off with an explanation as to why cask ale needed saving. This is perhaps the crux of not just the book, but CAMRA itself, because the unique set of circumstances that existed at the time, provided the reasons behind the need for an organisation such as CAMRA.

What then follows are a set of rather broad headings, about how the campaign works, in relation to beer, breweries, and pubs. The book then ends with a look at CAMRA today. These headings encompass a wide range of related sub-headings, covering topics and developments, laid out in chronological order. These demonstrate how CAMRA has evolved over the past half century.

The first half was the most interesting as it was the part of the campaign that I really identified with. Back in the late 70’s – early 80’s, it seemed that CAMRA had become an unstoppable force, and what we (because it was, we) were doing was not only worthwhile, but somehow noble as well.  I appreciate that sounds rather pretentious now, but when looked at against the increase in interest, of all matters relating to beer, that CAMRA inspired, I don’t regard it as an exaggeration. The same applies to the huge increase in the number of breweries, not just here in the UK, but globally and particularly in the United States.

I don’t intend to cover all the topic covered in Laura’s book, although there are a number that I would like to explore further. One story, which makes interesting reading, is the development of beer festivals - events that we now take for granted, Cambridge was one of the first off, the mark in 1974, with a successful festival that acted as the template for future CAMRA events. A year later the Covent Garden Beer Exhibition, became the first national beer festival.

I was fortunate to have attended this pioneering event, and two years later I was present at the first Great British Beer Festival, held at London’s Alexandra Palace. I have since attended countless beer across the southeast, worked at several, and even helped to organise the odd one or two.

Organising protest marches, either through towns, or outside breweries earmarked for closure, was another favourite tactic during the early days of CAMRA. Laura recounts the “mock funerals” held in memory of a brewery about to be closed, and I recall attending such a demonstration at Whitbread’s historic Chiswell Street Brewery, in the City of London. Beer had been brewed at this location for over 200 years, before the brewing giant closed the plant in 1976.

Meeting up with fellow members, concerned at the loss of the country’s brewing heritage, was great fun, and it felt like we were not just getting our point across, but by drawing people’s attention to these closures, we were making a difference.  I was certainly proud to be associated with such like-minded individuals, and regarded them as “comrades in arms,” for want of a better term.

Those days have all gone now, the fun has gone out of the campaign and CAMRA has become dull and boring. Like a lengthy marriage that is missing its spark and slowly going off the rails, CAMRA seemed to be just going through the motions. Ticking boxes, surveying pubs for the GBG, attending the Great British Beer Festival, campaigning for Mild during the month of May and cider during the autumn, the whole year was marked out by CAMRA routines and rituals, that hardly varied from one year to the next.

As Laura points out, CAMRA changed from a campaigning organisation to a lobbying one. Sure, the campaign has the ear of parliament and of the brewing industry, but the heart and soul has completely gone from the campaign, the organisation takes itself far too seriously, and like the Conservative party, is riddled with internal politics.

There was the half-hearted attempt at reform, dubbed the Revitalisation Campaign, which culminated in a number of Special Resolutions being put to CAMRA’s National Conference. The majority of these passed, but the most controversial resolution fell at the last hurdle, when it narrowly failed to achieve the 75% majority required to change the campaign’s articles of association.

The resolution would have meant that CAMRA would “act as the voice and represent the interests of all pub goers and beer, cider and perry drinkers.” It would have made CAMRA a much broader church, embracing all the above groups. The motion failed by the narrowest of margins, 72%, and just short of the 75% % required. Similar guidelines should, of course, have applied to the 2016 referendum on Britain’s EU membership, but that’s another story.

Many in CAMRA regarded the failure of this Special Resolution as a missed opportunity for the campaign. An opportunity which would have taken the organisation forward, and beyond the somewhat narrow remit of “Real Ale.” For an individual like me, already disillusioned at the direction the group was taking, it was the final straw, and I cancelled my membership at the end of 2019.

These issues aside, CAMRA over the course of the past 50 years, has achieved far more than those four young journalists could have envisioned, when they sketched out those original hazy details for the campaign, on their lads’ holiday to Ireland.

I am proud of the role I played within this success and am honoured to have been a member of Europe’s largest, single-issue consumer movement for 45 years. During this time, I have made many good friends, visited some amazing pubs and breweries and generally, have enjoyed a thoroughly good time. So, to discover more about this unique and ground-breaking organisation, I thoroughly recommend getting a copy of “50 years of CAMRA,” whether you are a CAMRA member or not.

Finally, a little piece of doggerel from a Christmas card, sent in the very early days of the campaign, by one of CAMRA’s four founders.

"Whether in city bar you sup, Or in village vault you get tanked up, Be on your guard against bad ale, Or you’ll never live to tell the tale………….of CAMRA."

Nostalgia is alive and kicking at the Hooden Smokehouse & Cellar

At the start of my recent post about Ashford, I brought up the old adage that, “You should never go back.” I said at the time that there is more of a grain of truth in this piece of advice, but this does need qualifying. I meant what I'd said, but with the following provisos, because sometimes you end up being pleasantly surprised, as I'll explain shortly.

Nothing stands still, and things change and evolve all the time, and if you actually embrace the change, then when things aren’t quite what you expected or indeed remembered, that’s not always a bad thing. There is one strict condition here, and that is the change must be positive, as there’s no point in going back and re-visiting a favourite place from your youth, if you find it’s been altered out of all recognition. Even then, it still might represent a positive change, if the alterations that have taken place are for the better, so the key is to keep an open mind when returning to old haunts and places that have sacred memories from childhood.

I experienced this, at first hand, a couple of Friday’s ago, as part of that return visit to Ashford, and neighbouring Willesborough, as they were the places where I not only grew up, but also spent my formative years. So, as part of the planning for our trip, I paid careful attention to somewhere suitable for a lunchtime drink, plus a bite to eat.

As the idea was to walk through the housing development where my sister and I had lived with our parents, between the ages of 3 and 11, I was banking on finding somewhere nearby. Straight away, I thought of the Rose Inn, a pub I visited several times as a child, with my parents and maternal grandparents. The latter made regular visits from London, after we first moved to Kent, and as both enjoyed a drink – unlike my parents, the Rose was within easy walking distance, and a place that the whole family could enjoy.

It was an unusual pub, being built into the side of a hill, and was therefore constructed on two levels. The public bar was at the higher level, fronting the road, and a saloon-cum-games area, which doubled-up as children's room, at the lower level. It was reached by descending a series of steps from the road, and also the car park. I remember as a child, sitting out at some tables in the top car park, enjoying a pineapple juice, and a packet of crisps.

My grandmother’s tipple of choice was a gin and tonic, but my grandfather was definitely a beer man. He preferred bottled, rather than draught, and I think this was quite a common preference during the early 60’s – something to do with variability of the draught beer back then. “Draught” would invariably have been cask, and poor cellar skills shown by many licensees at the time, helped lead to the development and wider promotion of keg beer.

The latter, was originally, nothing more than bottled beer but served and dispensed from a much larger container. My grandfather stuck with his bottles though, and whilst I have no idea of the brew served in the Rose, at the time, I imagine it would have been Fremlin’s. I say this because shortly after leaving school, I became re-acquainted with the pub. It was a Whitbread pub back then, the latter company having acquired most of its pubs in the area, following the takeover of Fremlin’s in 1967.

I hadn’t long turned 18, and along with a couple of former school friends, had taken a job at a local food processing factory, whilst awaiting my A-level results. The work was dull, repetitive and boring, but paid reasonably well, and we were placed on permanent late shift, which ran from 2pm until 10pm. Back in those days most Kent pubs closed at 10.30pm Monday to Thursday, with an extension to 11pm on Fridays and Saturdays.

The Rose was the nearest pub to the factory, and if we left as soon as the shift ended, we just had time to hot foot it along to the Rose and get a couple of quick pints in before time was called. Presiding behind the bar was this fearsome old lady called Norah. She appeared to run the pub single-handed, although we later learned that one of her sons helped with the cellar work and other heavy duties. We tended to frequent the lower saloon bar on our after-work visits, primarily to engage in a game or two of bar-billiards, and despite our relatively young ages, Norah seemed quite glad of our custom.

One friend though, recounted a tale of how Norah had once barred his father from the pub, purely because she "didn't like the look of him,” we paid little attention to this story, as we really looked forward to those after work beers, especially after a gruelling 8-hour shift. As proof of this, the couple of pints we squeezed in before “last orders” were called, barely touched the sides.

At the end of that summer, I left home to go to university. When I returned the following summer, I had a different part-time job at a location that was nowhere near the Rose. I consequently lost touch with the pub, until a few weeks ago, when my interest was re-kindled, following a search on What Pub, for a place in Willesborough, to enjoy that lunchtime drink.

I did something of a double take when I first saw the pub and its address. It is no longer the Rose, but instead goes under the name of the Hooden Smokehouse & Cellar, which puzzled me somewhat as I remember a small chain of pubs all with the word “Hooden” in their title. We had one in Tonbridge, for a while, when the Somerhill Arms was renamed the Hooden Horse.

That was quite a few years ago, and the pub has reverted to its original name, but I’m not sure what the story was regarding the Willesborough outlet. I wasn’t that bothered either, because the pub was open, the food and drink offerings looked good and the reviews on TripAdvisor were also positive, so the former Rose it was then. As mentioned in my Ashford article, the Hooden Smokehouse & Cellar (HS&C), was just a few hundred yards past my old primary school, and as soon as we arrived the outside of the pub looked familiar. One thing which was different, was the upper bar was no longer accessible.

We walked down the steps to the lower bar instead, passing through a covered area which serves as the games room. This led through into the main bar which was the one I remembered as the saloon bar, nearly half a century ago. There was a handful of people inside – a couple having lunch, as the far end of the room, a couple of lads, sitting at the side of the bar, plus the landlord who was doing some work on his computer.

We ordered some drinks and grabbed a copy of the menu. I opted for the Harvey’s Sussex Best, which was the only cask ale on sale. Matthew went for a pint of Heineken. We both chose the Dry Aged Beef Burger and chips option for our lunch, and I have to say the food was excellent, and the service prompt. The Harvey’s was good too, which led me to order a second pint.

Afterwards I had an interesting chat with the landlord, and the subject of the legendary former landlady, Norah came up. He had heard several stories, from various sources, about Norah, and had even met one of her sons. I told him one of mine, which sort of tied in with the tale my friend told, about her refusing to serve his father. The story is too long to repeat here, but if you click the link, it will direct you to a post I published in 2010, entitled Fearsome Pub Landladies.

A few quick lines about the pub, to finish on. It was built in 1648, as a coaching inn, and as remained a pub ever since. A serious fire broke out in November 2016. Because the fire started in duct-work, associated with the extraction system, from one of the fryers, in the kitchen, it was some time before it was noticed. This meant the damage was much more extensive than I might have been, and consequently, the clean-up and rebuilding work necessary, meant the pub didn’t re-open, until March 2018.

Unfortunately, the renovation work revealed some structural weaknesses, which meant that it was not possible to re-open the upstairs bar; without some prohibitively expensive remedial work. The landlord told me that steep, wooden, nautical-style which Norah clambered up and down between the bars, was still in place.

The pub’s menu places a strong emphasis on American-style food, with items such as ribs, pulled pork, chicken wings, as well as burgers, a major feature of the Hooden’s food offering. As for the beer, the landlord did say that prior to lock-down, he was running with 2-3 cask ales on, but had (sensibly in my book), dropped this figure down to one. The pub also features two or three craft offerings. On the landlord’s own admission, these are expensive at around £6 a pint, but they were selling.

The Hooden Smokehouse & Cellar is well worth checking out if you are in the area, and with happy childhood memories for me, I’m really glad that I stopped by, to re-live some of them.

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Curious Brewery - Taproom & Restaurant

It seems I’ve been pipped at the post in my rush to bring the story of my visit to Curious Brewing to readers of this blog. The person who beat me to it, with his own account of a visit to this impressive brewing set-up, is none other than master brewer and fellow beer blogger, Ed Wray. Ed’s visit was a professional one, as a member of the Institute of Brewing & Distilling, whilst mine was purely one of pleasure that came at the end of a visit to my old hometown of Ashford.

I wrote about that particular excursion last week but left no hint that the day ended with son Matthew and I calling in at Curious Brewing. However, as the company’s state-of-the-art brewery and hospitality centre, are just across the tracks from Ashford’s International station, it would have been rude for us not to have called in.

The Curious Brewery was established in 2011, as an off shoot of Tenterden-based, Chapel Down Winery. At first, the beers were all contract-brewed), by Hepworth & Co in Horsham, but it was always Chapel Down’s intention to switch the production of these products to an “in-house” operation. To achieve this aim, a crowd-funding campaign was launched, which raised around £1.5 million.

After acquiring a 1.6-acre site, directly opposite Ashford International station, work began on the construction of a state-of-the-art brewing facility, which opened in May 2019.  A total of £6 million was spent on the 50HL 5-vessel brew-house, complete with 19 fermentation tanks, giving a total capacity of 2,900hl. 

 

The new plant is versatile, and adaptable, as it allows the brewing of smaller batch sizes, to ensure improved freshness and quality, and will also enable the launch of an exclusive small batch series. It also looks very impressive, being all shiny and new. Three core brews are produced, at present – an award-winning lager, a session IPA, plus a rather nice, porter, and these are also supplemented by seasonal and occasional brews. I even noticed a  handpump for a caskGreen-Hop Ale, hidden away at the back of the bar.

I first became aware of the company, and its “curiously-branded” products after spotting some of their bottles on sale at Waitrose. This must have been seven or eight years ago, and since learning of their expansion plans, a couple of years later, I had been following developments with interest. Following the opening of the Ashford plant, a visit had been on my “must do” list, and I was just drawing up some plans, when along came Covid!

Like many businesses, Curious were badly affected by the pandemic, with the various lock-downs hitting its sale to pubs, particularly hard. It was perhaps no surprise then when in February 2021, Chapel Down put the brewery business into administration. It was subsequently sold to Risk Capital Partners, who not only stressed there would be no redundancies, but also vowed to rebuild the business.

 So, with this in mind, Matthew and I turned up, as couple of  Fridays ago, to see for ourselves and enjoy a pint or two, before catching the train home. The designers of the Curious Brewing certainly set out to make a bold statement, as the frontage of the brewery sets out to grab your attention and shake you to your core. The stylish restaurant and tap room are on the first floor, with an exterior window looking out towards the station, and an interior one looking out at the brewing kit.

The restaurant was busy that afternoon, with plenty of customers enjoying the beer and the food. Matthew went for a pint of Curious Pilsner, whilst I got stuck into a pint of Curious Porter. Both were very good. I can thoroughly recommend visiting Curious Brewing, and if time allows, perhaps taking in a tour of the brewery as well. I also wish the new owners every success for the future.

 

Some of what I've been up to recently

I realised I haven’t posted anything since last weekend, although that’s not strictly true, as I’ve been working on an article for my website. "Regensburg – pearl of the Danube," was part of the slightly cheesy title, even though this UNESCO World Heritage site is anything but cheesy.

If you are looking for somewhere for your next holiday – once travel gets back to normal, that is off the beaten track, that combines a beautiful and well-preserved medieval city, in a stunning location with some first-class beer, then click the link. Otherwise, please read on.

Since last Friday week, I’ve visited six different pubs, in six separate locations, and whilst this tally is probably all in a day’s work for seasoned pub people and serious GBG tickers, it’s quite an achievement for me, coming as it does as the country begins to shake of the shackles of Covid-19 restrictions.

To break these visits down, there was a pub the week before last, in Willesborough, plus a brewery tap room and restaurant in nearby Ashford. Thursday evening saw me nipping in for a swift pint, at a well-known cask outlet in Tonbridge High Street, after a late-night haircut. Friday saw me making full use of my bus pass, visiting two Wealden pubs, both sharing the same name as well as the same suffix in their location. The final pub was an unscheduled stop, necessitated by a rather full bladder – the perils of bus travel on top of a few pints!

There are stories attached to both  the Willesborough and Ashford outlets, so I will save those posts until I’ve got a bit more time, but Friday’s bus trip involved a ride out on the 297 service, which runs throughout the day between Tunbridge Wells and Tenterden. I boarded the 10.45 departure from outside the town’s railway station and headed off to Rolvenden. This attractive village is only five miles or so from the terminus at Tenterden.

 My destination in Rolvenden was the Bull Inn, one of two pubs in the village, the other being the Star. I hadn’t been in either, so the bus allowed the perfect opportunity to rectify one of those omissions. This time around it had to be just one, as the bus timings only allowed 30 minutes pub time, before the return service that would drop me at another Bull, where I had planned a longer session. (More of that in a minute).

So, the Bull Inn it was, and as the bus had, rather conveniently, dropped me right outside the pub, it would have been churlish not to have ventured inside. The first thing I noticed was there were two bars. I could tell this from the outside, due to the large, plain glass windows, fronting the pub on either side of the door, and for no particular reason I chose the left hand one. 

As I walked in, there was a customer sitting in the window seat, nurturing his pint whilst, at the far end of the bar, and at a slightly lower level, I noticed a couple sitting around the rather cosy-looking log burner. They’d gone, by the time I took the photo, but sidling up to the bar, and ignoring the two “T”- bars dispensing both faux and genuine craft, lager, and ciders, I ordered myself a pint of Harvey’s Sussex Best – the only cask offering available.

The barmaid had some difficulty in pulling my pint, as the pump was making that splurging sort of noise that is a sure sign the cask is on the verge of running out. I made a remark to that effect, and she agreed, so when the chap who’d been siting in the window came up and requested another pint of Harvey’s, she mentioned about popping down to the cellar, to check things out. I took my pint across to an empty table, in front of the side window, and started drinking it – conscious that I only had half an hour to do so. It seemed OK at first, but after a couple more mouthfuls, I realised it was definitely off.

By this time the girl had enlisted the help of a young lad, and between them they were pulling the fresh pint through. I didn’t have to say anything, and my “end of the cask” pint was replaced without question. Full marks to the bar staff here, and I sat back down to enjoy my pint. A family that had booked for lunch, entered via the rear car park, and were shown through to the other bar, which is obviously the one for posh nosh/fine dining.

I just had time to finish my pint, thank the girl behind the bar, and cross the road to the bus stop opposite. I was able to get some good photos of the pub exterior, before the bus turned up – the same double-decked vehicle I’d arrived on earlier. I boarded, and with only one stop to go, sat downstairs. I must say, sitting on the upper deck on the outward journey, had seemed a little hair raising at times, as the driver put his foot down, trying to make up for the earlier hold-up we’d encountered in Pembury, caused by a narrow road and a bin-lorry doing the weekly collections. I do wonder who routes buses that are more suitable to urban environments, through residential areas where the roads are clogged with inappropriately parked cars.

There wasn’t far to go, as we approached the larger village of Benenden, where on the edge of the green, the second Bull Inn of the day stands, ready to welcome customers. I’d already clocked the pub as we passed through on the outward-bound journey, and it was only a short hop from the bus stop to the pub, but before I’d left the bus, I recognised the person coming down from the upper deck.

Before I’d had the chance to acknowledge me, he was off the bus like a shot, and making his way towards the pub entrance. I hung back a while, primarily to take a few photos of the exterior, but after I’d entered the Bull and made my way into the left-hand bar, I could see no sign of this individual.

He soon appeared, having first visited the Gents and laid claim to a table. He was no less than Jeff Tucker, former chairman of MMK CAMRA, tour-guide extraordinaire and an old friend who I have known for many years. He was as surprised to see me standing at the bar, as I was to see him disappearing off the bus – or perhaps not, because Jeff is both a former bus driver and something of a public transport guru.

His reason for visiting the Bull at Benenden was to carry out a survey for the Good Beer Guide and yes, I am talking about the 2023 edition! So, despite being just a month into the new year, CAMRA branches are already pontificating over next year’s guide, proving that by the time the GBG hit’s the bookshops in time for the all-important Christmas trade, much of the information will already be six months out of date.

The survey didn’t take long, as Jeff had printed off a list of questions, all of which the bar staff were able to answer. Between us we “tested” three of the beers – Dark Star Hophead, Larkin’s Traditional, and Cellar Head Flapjack Oatmeal Stout, and all passed muster! The pub was starting to fill up quite quickly, so it was fortunate that Jeff had managed to secure a table, tucked away on the other side of the bar.

We spent the time catching up on things, some CAMRA related, like the annual Good Friday Ramble, others less so, although I did have to explain why I was unable to make Jeff’s trip to Pilsen, this coming May. The trip had originally been scheduled for May 2020, but due to the pandemic had been scheduled and then postponed  on a further two occasions.  Unfortunately, the trip now clashes with the Baltic cruise that Mrs PBT’s and I have booked for late April-early May.

I was feeling hungry by this point and fancied something to eat. I like to have something solid, when I am drinking at lunchtime, such as a roll or a sandwich, but the Bull’s menu only offered “Light Bites & Starters” or mains. Soup would have been ideal, but with the day’s choice being tomato, I opted instead for a prawn cocktail starter, with brown bread and butter. No ideal, but it filled a hole, as they say. Jeff stayed with his “liquid lunch,” and said he would be catching the same 14.14 bus as me, and then alighting at Cranbrook in order to visit Larkin’s Alehouse – a micro pub, which despite its name, has no connection with Larkin’s Brewery.

He asked if I’d care to join him, but I had to decline due to an errand I’d promised to fulfill for Mrs PBT’s. This involved picking up a fluorescent light tube, in Tonbridge, to replace the failed one in the kitchen. Failing to do this would mean her cooking under reduced light that evening, so being the dutiful husband, I thought it wise to comply.

Before leaving the Bull, I remarked to the barmaid as to how busy the pub was. She said they weren’t expecting such a crowd but were obviously surprised and pleased with the numbers. Perhaps this is the start of the long-awaited recovery in hospitality?  

Jeff and I then boarded the bus, and before he got off at Cranbrook, he pointed out Larkin’s Alehouse to me. He chuckled and asked would my bladder last all the way back to Tunbridge Wells? I said it would, but by the time the bus reached Goudhurst, I was beginning to have my doubts. I decided I’d have to get off in Matfield, visit the strangely named Poet, next to the bus stop, and make use of their facilities.

I would obviously have a beer as well,

 and Matfield was a good place to break my journey, as the No.6 bus passes through, much more frequently than the 297. This meant I could travel back to Tunbridge Wells, or journey in the opposite direction to Paddock Wood, and the train back to Tonbridge. The Gents at the Poet was on the small side, with just one urinal and one closet. Fortunately, neither were occupied, so feeling much relived I approached the bar and ordered a swift half.

Despite the choice of Harvey’s or Cellar Head, I opted for a cool, refreshing and palate-cleansing glass of Pilsner Urquell – my favourite lager and a beer that’s rarely seen on draft in this neck of the woods. It was in good form, which was proof of good turnover, because even keg lagers can become stale, if kept for too long.

I took an instant liking to the Poet, not having been in there before – certainly

not under its present guise. I’ve a feeling I might have been in several decades ago, when this ex-Watney’s pub was known as Standing’s Cross, but there was nothing I could relate to from that time. The Poet at Matfield, to give the pub its proper name, offers an "informal yet refined dining experience," and whilst the menu prices seemed mouth-wateringly high, it still seemed a pleasant enough place to stop by and have a drink. The welcome I received from the staff was sufficient to encourage my return, and that, gentle readers, is the mark of a good pub.