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.

 

Wrapping up the Black Country - or a part of it, at least!

We’ve reached the final part of the other Friday’s amazing tour around some of the Black Country’s finest pubs, and we pick up the story from outside Sedgley’s Beacon Hotel, where Stafford Paul and I said farewell to Retired Martin. A short walk back to the A459 then ensued, followed by a bus in the opposite direction to that which we’d travelled on earlier. Our destination was the Britannia Inn at Upper Gornal, the second Batham’s pub of the day and one which, like the first, didn’t disappoint either.

We arrived shortly before 4pm, although somewhat foolishly I failed to take a photo of the pub’s exterior. Having already diced with death once, whilst crossing the busy main road outside the Britannia, I didn’t fancy my chances a second time, so readers will have to make do with some shots of the rear of the building, along with plenty of the amazing interior. The main bar at the front of the pub was buzzing and packed with a good mixed crowd of drinkers winding down at the end of the working week. This particular part of the pub was formerly a butcher's shop, but was incorporated into the main building, by Batham’s when they took over the place in 1997.

With the two Batham’s stalwarts of Best Bitter and Mild on the bar, I opted for the former, whilst Paul stuck with the latter. The Best Bitter was every bit as good as it was at the Vine.Paul was keen for me to see the taproom at the rear of the pub, which forms an important part of the Britannia’s nationally important and historic, interior. Upon inquiring discovered he the room was closed, to the time being. The reason for the closure was the taproom was being used to interview potential bar staff and would re-open to the public at 4.30pm.

In the meantime, I took a wander out to the garden, at the rear of the pub, and noticed the adjoining stone-built block, with its colourful sign on the wall, proclaiming the words “Britannia Brewery – Batham’s.” This ties in with the pub having brewed its own beer until 1959, during its tenure under the Perry family who owned the place for many years. It was known then as "Sallie's", after the landlady from 1942 to 1991.

As promised, the rear taproom re-opened to customers, the interviews having concluded for the day. Paul and I made our way eagerly inside and were not disappointed with what we saw. Paul, of course, had been in the taproom before, and was pleased to point out its historic features, the most noteworthy of which was the bank of four, wall-mounted hand pulls, complete with a pewter drip-tray, set against the corridor wall. This arrangement of a servery without a counter, is now very rare, although a century or so ago, such a set up would have been much more common, particularly in smaller and more basic establishments.

I’m pleased we were able to experience this unusual taproom, but there was still one more pub for us to enjoy, before my visit drew to an end. We finished our drinks and stepped outside to wait for the No. 1 bus that would take us back to Wolverhampton. I don’t remember that much about the journey back to Wolves, although I suspect the amount of beer I’d consumed had something to do with that, but upon leaving the bus, Paul and I made towards the railway station. There, on the other side of the tracks, and close to the former low-level railway station lies the Great Western, a former CAMRA National Pub of the Year.

The pub is one of 20 pubs owned by Holden’s, the largest of the family owned, Black Country brewers – I’m not including Bank’s (Wolverhampton & Dudley), as they’re no longer family-owned, and following their reverse takeover of Marston’s and subsequent tie-up with Danish brewing behemoth, Carlsberg, are no longer a serious player in the world of cask ale and traditional pubs.

Holden’s is still run by the fourth generation of the Holden family, who remain just as proudly committed to their history and heritage, as they were when the brewery was founded back in 1915. Holden's acquired the Great Western in 1988, and the pub went on to win National Pub of the Year, three years later. Today the pub interior consists of four areas, front bar, long lounge, snug and conservatory at the back, and is Grade II-listed.

Paul and I sat in the front bar, where we were lucky to grab a seat, following the departure of a group of drinkers. The place was packed – it was early Friday evening, and as I looked around, I had the feeling that I’d been there before. Paul thought the same too but looking back as the various photos I’ve taken over the years, and the times I’ve changed trains at Wolverhampton station I can’t find any record of my having been there. That includes the visit to Shifnal, which was my first Proper Day Out, with members from the Beer & Pubs forum, back in November 2019.

This aside, the Great Western was on top form, the Friday before last, as was the Holden’s Black Country Mild, which slipped down a treat. Both pub and beer proved a fitting end to what was, in effect another Proper Day Out, and a splendid one at that! My thanks go to Stafford Paul for the groundwork that went into preparing the tour, and especially the hours he put in sorting out local bus routes and bus times. Most of all, though, I’d like to give him special thanks for his local knowledge, company and good humour, and trust that it won’t be too long, before we enjoy another tour, that is equally enjoyable and rewarding as this one was.

 

 

 

Black Country Walkabout - Part One

Having set the scene for our Black Country Walkabout, it’s now time for the main event, which of course was visiting the five, classic Black Country pubs, as originally earmarked by me, then verified and approved by Stafford Paul, local expert, and Pub Man extraordinaire. Paul had spent a lot of time tidying up the provisional route that I’d suggested last summer, even to the extent of trying out some of the local buses and finding a much more workable alternative to my original idea of starting out from Cradley Heath rail station. This meant some good came out of us postponing the trip, back in August, due to COVID – me, rather than Stafford Paul.

The intention, to begin the tour from Brierley Hill, the most southerly point, remained the same, but this time all we had to do was sit on the No. 8 bus from Wolverhampton, all the way to the first, and arguably one of the best, pubs on the crawl. It took the best part of an hour before the bus and ourselves, parted company, just five minutes’ walk from the Vine, and whilst I had seen many photos of this classic Batham’s pub, I was surprised by its open situation and outlook, across the rolling hills of the Black Country.

Those hills were first described to me by pioneering beer writer Frank Baillie (no relation), in his ground-breaking book, "The Beer Drinker’s Companion," although little did, I think after reading those words, that it would take me 50 years to see the pub for myself. And not only visit it, but step inside its hallowed walls and enjoy a couple of pint’s of Batham’s finest, brewed at the quaintly named, Delph Brewery, behind the pub. Paul had warned me that the Vine, also known as the Bull & Bladder, would be busy, and that we would need to get our food order in quick. This was because the first half of our tour was governed by a tight schedule, for reasons I shall reveal later. So, after pausing to take a few photos ox the exterior, whilst making way for customers eager to get inside, we too passed through the portal and joined the queue that had formed at the serving hatch.

A pint of Batham’s Best Bitter for me and a pint of the brewery’s mild for Paul. Just £2.60 a pint, and a couple of the best beers I’ve drank in a long, long time. Smooth, creamy, well-conditioned, clear as a bell and topped with a white creamy head that clung to the glass leaving “lacings” as the contents were eagerly drained by both Paul and me. It was beer heaven, as far as I was concerned, and I know my companion was equally enthusiastic about this marvellous beer.

Paul went off to order some food, leaving me at a table, in the large room to the left of the lobby, which we shared with a couple of other appreciative Batham’s drinkers. Not long after, our lunchtime meal arrived - steak pie, chips and mushy peas for me, and faggots, gravy, chips, and mushy peas for Paul. Both meals came in at just £5.00 each, which was amazing value. Most of the pub regulars, of which there were many, were eating as well, but with a large room at the rear, plus a staunchly traditional bar at the front, there was plenty of room for everyone. After finishing our meal, we too moved to the latter room, in order to soak up the atmosphere of this amazingly unspoilt local, which judging by the queue outside.

All too soon it was time to move on and so we retraced our footsteps back towards the huge Merry Hill shopping complex, where after a shot wait, we boarded a bus that was travelling in the direction of Dudley. 

This dropped us at Netherton, where we alighted, and crossed the road to the second pub of the day, the legendary Old Swan, known locally as Ma Pardoe’s. The Old Swan is one of the four surviving home-brew pubs that were around at the time that CAMRA was founded, the other three being the Blue Anchor, Helston, Cornwall, the Three Tuns, at Bishop’s Castle, Shropshire, and the All Nations at Madeley, also in Shropshire. The latter is now the only one of those four historic pubs, that I have not been to.

Last Friday’s visit to Ma Pardoe’s, was another first, and it was definitely worth visiting. As with the other pubs, Stafford Paul had done his homework, and discovered that the “wonderfully evocative original bar, unchanged since Victorian times” doesn’t open nowadays until 5pm. Tim Newey, who is  the long-serving licensee at the Old Swan, told him that “most of the bar customers are dead now," although anyone particularly interested can sit in there having bought their pints in the 1980s extension next door. The exterior of the extension can clearly be seen in the photograph below and looks like it may have once been a separate building.

We followed Mr Newey’s suggestion and after purchasing our pints of Olde Swan Original, asked the barman if we could take them through to the original section of the pub. He escorted us round, and left us to admire the interior, which is virtually unchanged from Victorian times. It features an ornate, enamelled ceiling, with a picture of a Swan, and this gracious bird also features on a mirror behind the bar. A standalone burner provides the heating. There is a cosy snug, plus a two-room lounge in the newer section of the pub.

Paul and I were just sitting there enjoying our pints, when a WhatsApp message came through from Retired Martin, informing us that he was in the Swan, but where were we? We put him straight, as to our whereabouts, and he came through an joined us. He had done well in catching us up, particularly in view of his dislike of buses, and it was good that he was able to join up with us at Netherton.  We enjoyed listening to his various escapades, but regrettably there wasn’t time for a further pint at the Old Swan.

I mentioned earlier that we were on a tight time schedule, and this was because the Beacon Hotel at Sedgley, the next pub on our itinerary still keeps old fashioned hours, and closes at 3pm, for an afternoon break. Although we had 75 minutes to reach the Beacon, the journey involved a change of buses in Dudley. The traffic was also heavy, after all it was Friday afternoon, but there were road works as well. With time ticking away, there was a danger we might not make it to the pub before it closed for the afternoon.

Martin came to the rescue and jumped off the bus a few stops before we reached Sedgley. He then gallantly power-walked to the pub, arriving several minutes ahead of us. When Paul and I eventually reached the pub, we found Martin waiting there along with three dimple pint mugs of Sarah Hughes Ruby Mild on the table. This 6% abv dark mild, was a good beer on which to finish the lunchtime session, although I was admittedly quite taken aback by the strength of this ale, which is one of several brewed on the premises, at the tower brewery at the rear of this characterful pub.

The beers are served from a small central hatchway, complete with leaded windows, and we caught up with our friend in one of the adjoining rooms, which was still busy with drinkers finishing off their pints. When I visited the Gents, I noticed a couple of doors marked Brew-House and Fermenting Room, and as you can see from the photo, the brew-house is housed in a substantial red-brick building to the rear of where we were sitting.  

Sadly, it was time to drink up and say goodbye to the Beacon, and also to Martin, who had an engagement that evening, back home in Sheffield. It was good of him to have taken the time and effort to join us, although it’s a pity he wasn’t able to continue the crawl, as there were still two more cracking pubs to go.  You can read about these in the next, and final post from this Black Country Walkabout.