A few poignant reflections on visits to East Anglia

A few years after my late father retired from his job with the Royal Mail, my parents moved from their bungalow, located in a small Kent village, to a similar, but slightly smaller one floor dwelling, situated in a much larger Norfolk village. Dad had joined the Royal Mail, after completing his National Service, “playing soldiers, out in Germany”, as he like to put it.It was a fortunate posting though, as some national servicemen ended up in war zones (Korea or Malaysia), where it was very much the real thing and, sadly, not all of them returned. Following completion of his stint in the army, dad spent the rest of his working life employed in various parts of what was then known as the General Post Office (GPO).

His own parents had also retired to East Anglia, although in their case it was a small village in Suffolk, rather than Norfolk, where they spent their twilight years, and it was at their long, low and traditional looking bungalow, that my sister and I spent several happy summer holidays. It was the prospect of downsizing, and releasing some of the equity tied up in the Kentish family home that prompted my parent’s relocation to East Anglia, although I’m still not sure why they chose Norfolk over Suffolk.

Mum and dad’s move to Norfolk, took place a few years after Eileen and I started our own family, and with money being quite tight in those early years, the odd long weekend say at my parent’s bungalow provided a low-cost holiday, in a new location. Later on, when our financial situation improved, we spent more time in that part of the world, by renting a cottage on the Suffolk-Norfolk border. We did this several times, as the arrangement worked out better, than staying at mum and dad’s, especially as it curtailed much of the well-chronicled antipathy that sometimes occurs between a wife and her mother-in-law.

All these visits provided ample opportunity to become acquainted with the local pubs – a tradition that continued after my mother’s passing, dad’s Alzheimer’s diagnosis, and his subsequent move into a care home. My preferred option was to make a weekend of these visits, drive up either on a Friday or a Saturday, book into a convenient B&B, and combine the trip with a visit to the parental bungalow. Son Matthew would often accompanied me on these trips, as grandmothers in particular, love seeing their grandchildren, especially when they’re the first-born. Mum was no exception, although her interest waned a little after my youngest sister hatched a brood of her own.

Looking back, I probably made 3-4 such visits a year, to Norfolk, and those that involved visits to pubs, on the journey up, or whilst there, which must have been virtually all of them, have been chronicled on this blog. This was especially the case if there was a pub of special note. It’s therefore well worth taking a look back at some of these establishments, seeing what they had to offer, at the time of my visit, and whether they are worthy of a return visit. I’m going to start with five pubs, united by a common thread, as they all feature on CAMRA’s National Inventory of pubs with interiors of historic importance.

First up, we have the Cock at Brent Eleigh, in the south-western corner of Suffolk. I managed a brief stop there on a journey up to Norfolk, where I spent a couple of days visiting my father. The Cock is an attractive thatched and pink-rendered wayside inn which dates back to the 18th-century. The main bar with its quarry tiled floor, and 1930s brick fireplace is on the left and is accessed from a corner door. A coal fire was blazing in the grate, complete with a dog laying stretched out in front of it. Seating consisted of two basic bare benches, plus an assortment of chairs and bar stools. I enjoyed a pint of Adnam’s Southwold, which at just £3.10 a pint (2016 prices), represented good value.

The Cock is situated on the not terribly busy A1141, which runs down from Lavenham to Hadleigh. Alternatively, you can do what I did and follow your nose up from Sudbury; a route which takes you through some charming villages. The villages on the route I took northward, after leaving the pub, are if anything even more charming with Chelsworth and Bildeston absolute gems.

Next up is the Viper, at Mill Green, near Ingatestone, which is one of only two pubs in the country to be named after Britain’s sole poisonous snake. Situated on the edge of a wood, the Viper is a white-painted, four-room pub, which appears to be a pair of 19th Century cottages knocked into one. I didn’t get the chance to explore the pub properly, as my visit took place on a busy Sunday lunchtime. I was on my way back to Kent, following the weekend visit to Norfolk, described above.

I parked myself at a table in the small "tap room" which occupies the centre left of the pub and enjoyed a cheese sandwich along with a pint of the appropriately named Jake the Snake 4.5%, brewed for the pub by Mighty Oak. It is hard to believe this pub with its rural woodland setting and unspoilt plain interior is so close to both London and major transport links, as it seems a world away. It would be nice to return for a more leisurely visit, ideally after a walk in the woods.

Next, we have the half-timbered Green Dragon, in the picturesque Norfolk market town of Wymondham. I was on my way to visit my ailing parents, and after a lengthy drive up the M11motorway and A11 trunk road, I was in need of what the Americans would call a “comfort stop”. I was also feeling a trifle peckish and had marked Wymondham as a suitable lunchtime stopping place.  After turning off the busy A11, I made my way into the town centre and found a space in one of the municipal car parks and that all important “comfort station”.

The Green Dragon dates back to late 15th Century although much of its exterior is Tudor and half-timbered with a dormer window. It was lucky to have survived only superficial damage in the great fire of 1615 and there are still scorch marks on external timbers. The interior retains some of the old features such as beams and mantelpiece, and this is reflected in the bar, the cosy little snug with wooden pew type furniture and a small dining area on one side.

The pub was busy when I entered, with the right-hand dining room completely full and the main bar likewise, but on inquiring at the bar, I was told there were still a couple of tables spare in the tiny snug. This was situated off a corridor, leading off to the left of the bar. Before disappearing to grab one of these tables I ordered myself a pint of Horizon from Lincolnshire brewers, Newby Wyke along with a lunch of battered cod and chips.

I like old pubs, especially ones like the Green Dragon which have been serving thirsty customers for hundreds of years. The snug was simply decorated and simply furnished with a timeless feel to it, but one thing bang up to date was the free Wi-Fi; an important feature which more and more pubs are now providing, with the people sitting at the other tables all engrossed in their own conversations, a spot of web surfing helped pass the time until my food arrived.

It’s back to Suffolk for the next CAMRA National Heritage pub, and where better than the unspoilt King's Head at Laxfield The pub took a bit of finding, but this time I had the assistance of a recently acquired Sat Nav, plus the presence of son Matthew, for company. The pub took a bit of finding, as it is tucked away down a narrow lane, at the back of the church, but fortunately modern technology took us straight there.

The King's Head is also known as the “Low House”, probably on account of its long low profile, which is topped by a thatched roof. It is a timeless, multi-roomed pub, and is one of two hostelries in this attractive, mid-Suffolk village. We arrived, shortly before 8.30 pm and found the car park, and most of the lane outside already full of parked vehicles. Fortunately we managed to squeeze the car in just below the church, and soon discovered the reason for the pub’s popularity; the King's Head was hosting its annual May Bank Holiday Beer Festival. We made our way inside, keen to see for ourselves exactly why the Kings Head had made its way onto CAMRA’s Heritage Pub list. According to the website, “The main room at the King’s Head, features listed high back settles set around a small fireplace.”  The pub also has the added attraction of gravity served beer, which is kept in a small tap room to rear.

We found our way into this room, pausing for a look at the high-backed settle which takes up much of the space, before proceeding to the aforementioned tap room, at the end of the corridor. Here we could see a row of casks racked ready to dispense a range of Adnams beers. We asked about food, only to be told that all tables were booked, but fortunately there was some space in the smoking shelter, out in the yard adjacent to the taproom.

We grabbed a couple of spare seats then I went off to the serving hatch to order our beers and also our food. As I was driving, I opted for the ordinary Adnams Southwold Bitter. Matt, on the other hand, opted for a pint of Adnams Dry- Hop lager. To eat we both went for the steak and ale pie option, served with chips and peas. Service was quick, despite the crowds, and our food arrived promptly. The pies were not “proper” pies, but the steak was juicy and tender, and the gravy filling was suitably thick and tasty. After a two and a half journey, the end part of which was through a series of winding lanes, we were both famished, and our meals were gratefully appreciated.

Fourth on the list, is the Red Lion at Kenninghall. It was whilst looking for somewhere to lay my head, that I came across Kenninghall; a large village roughly halfway between Bury St Edmunds and Norwich. The Red Lion is a CAMRA National Inventory pub, which has been on my list of pubs to visit for some time, so when the pub came up on Bookings.com at a very good price, I jumped at the chance of an overnight stay.

I drove up early on Sunday afternoon, surprised that the traffic, particularly on the M25, was so heavy, although once past Stansted I made good time. With the aid of my sat-nav, arrived in Kenninghall shortly before 5pm. I made a brief stop at the well-stocked village store, and post office, before parking up at the Red Lion, which lies in the shadow of the imposing St Mary's church. I was shown to a cosy little room at the front of the building, with a door opening straight out onto the street.

I was aware that the Red Lion wouldn't be serving food on Sunday evening, so had carried out some prior research to see what the alternatives were. Kenninghall is large enough to support two pubs, and right in the centre of the village, opposite the post office, is the White Horse.  I discovered that Kenninghall was both a thriving village and a very pleasant place to live – facts I’d gathered from my walk down to the White Horse, and also from the parish magazine I picked up from the bar. I also learned that the Red Lion, was known for the quality of its beer and was much more of a locals' pub than its more contemporary counterpart.

As mentioned earlier the Red Lion is on CAMRA's heritage pub list and after being closed for approximately seven years, re-opened in February 1997, following a careful and extensive restoration. The building dates from the early 16th Century, and as well as a traditional public bar, has a pine panelled snug, which is one of only two of its kind in East Anglia. There is a 50-seater restaurant At the other end of the pub, laid out in the style of old stables. I enjoyed a satisfying full English breakfast there the following morning. In addition to the good, wholesome home-cooked food, the Red Lion has four guest rooms, and hosts regular live music sessions and other community events.

The final, National Inventory pub is the legendary Butt & Oyster, at Pin Mill, near Ipswich. The latter is a hamlet on the south bank of River Orwell, which is tidal at this point, and was once a busy landing point for ship-borne cargo. It was also a centre for the repair of Thames sailing barges and home to many small industries such as sail making, a maltings, plus a brickyard. Like my home county of Kent, the east coast of England has a long history of smuggling, and Pin Mill and the Butt & Oyster pub allegedly played key parts in this. Pin Mill has been the subject of many paintings and photographs and is a popular yacht and dinghy sailing destination.

The Butt & Oyster is best described as a traditional 17th century inn, famed for its riverside setting and the fine views it offers across the estuary of the River Orwell. To take full advantage of this, there is a substantial amount of outdoor seating to front of pub, and this is very popular on sunny days.  The Butt & Oyster can get very busy in summer and also at weekends. It was a pub I had wanted to visit for a long time, but despite making regular trips up to Norfolk, there never seemed sufficient time to divert across to the Orwell estuary, and the tiny riverside settlement of Pin Mill. It wasn’t until I looked at a more detailed map of the area, that I realised just how do-able it was to divert off the A12 - A14 junction at Copdock to the south of Ipswich. The acquisition of a Sat-Nav made the whole process even easier.

There are three separate rooms inside, connected by a corridor with flagstone floors, and along with the main bar, there is a small snug, plus a much larger dining room. There are some high-backed settles plus a large open fire in main bar area, making it very cosy on cold winter days. The pub has featured in a number of films, including an episode of the TV series Lovejoy. Back then it belonged to Tolly Cobbold who were the dominant brewery, not just in the Ipswich area, but across wide swathes of Suffolk. 

Tolly of course, have long gone to that great brewery graveyard in the sky, and their impressive Cliff Brewery, fronting on to the waterfront in Ipswich, is still the subject of a number of redevelopment plans. Today the Butt & Oyster, is owned by local brewing heroes Adnam’s, although it is leased out to Deben Inns who are a local pub group that run a number of similarly successful pubs around Ipswich/Woodbridge area

I was then going to move on to pubs I have stayed at, in the Norfolk- East Anglia area, that provide overnight accommodation. But as this article has already expanded to four pages, I shall save that part of the story for another time.

Green-hopped beers appear to have lost their sparkle

As forecast in the previous post, I managed a visit to the Festival of Green Hop Beers, hosted by the excellent Dovecote Inn at Capel. My visit was almost a last-minute decision, following on, as it did, from a number of “errands” in Tonbridge (mainly banking and other boring stuff), that took up a large chunk of the morning. I got lucky when a No. 219 bus came along, and after a semi-sprint, I was able to jump on board, and head for home.

Mrs PBT’s was keen that I had a spot of light lunch before heading back out again, but even so I was an hour later than the rest of the CAMRA crew, when it cam to heading over to Five Oak Green, and the walk to Capel. If you were following the previous post, you will probably be thinking, what happened to that trip to Dunelm you were talking about, the other day – the one you agreed to undertake, with Mrs PBT’s? Well, at the risk of entering into the “smug zone” buying a new window blind, to replace the rather sad, fading and partially collapsed current one, wasn’t quite as simple as just rocking up at Dunelm, and loading a new one into the back of the car.

Unbeknown to my dear lady wife, I’d already carried out a spot of online research, only to be told, “Leave this to me.” She didn’t quite go as far to describe the task as a “pink job” primarily because she knew I would be the person up a ladder, fitting it, but the following day I found her scrolling through the same Blinds2go, and other similar websites that I’d looked at the night before. So, a suitable blind has been sorted and purchased from Blinds2go, or similar, but I did have to supply the measurements. No trip to Dunelm, necessary then – the nearest outlet is on a retail park on the edge of Maidstone. Paul was therefore free to go and sample a few Green Hop Ales with his buddies from the local CAMRA branch.

The 205 Autocar bus, which runs hourly between Tonbridge and Paddock Wood, was to be my means of conveyance, but as often happens with buses, it was running late. I was on the verge of giving up, when the bus eventually appeared, and sitting there towards the rear of the vehicle, was another member heading towards Five Oak Green. Tony’s connecting bus, over from Tunbridge Wells, had been badly delayed by roadworks – our crumbling infrastructure really is a reflection on the lack of investment by successive governments, regardless of political persuasion, over many years, and we are now paying the price!

Lecture over, the 15-minute journey saw the pair of us leaving the bus at the strangely named Sychem Lane, for the 20-minute walk along the lanes to Capel. Tony rushed on ahead, anxious to reach the Dovecote in advance of the 2pm cutoff for lunchtime food orders. He’d missed out last year, (I didn’t!), so was determined not to let the same thing happen. I said I would see him at the pub, and followed along behind, at a more leisurely pace. I timed the walk as this was information I needed to know for the return journey. 

Fortunately, the rain held off, and I arrived at the Dovecote at 13:50, in time for lunch, had I been eating. Tony was
already there, of course, as were the half dozen or so, other CAMRA members. The pub wasn’t as crowded as it was the previous year, but there were still quite a few customers getting tucked into the hearty looking food – including friend Tony. The Dovecote was featuring 12 Green Hop Ales in total, although only half that number were available that Friday, which was the first day of the weekend-long festival.

After a brief introductory chat with the CAMRA crew, I ordered myself a beer. Tasting notes were available for those that wanted them, but I let myself be guided by instinct. I also decided to stick to pints which, whilst a smart move, did mean care was needed when making a selection. Capel Pale from Tonbridge Brewery was my first pint and, as it turned out, was also the best and most tasty beer of the day.  Brewed using freshly harvested Pilgrim hops, from a grower in Capel, this was a truly local Green Hop beer. 

Second in the running was Harlequin, from Three Acre Brewery. This 5.0% abv, English IPA is brewed using freshly picked Harlequin hops and was billed as the Dovecote landlord’s personal favourite. It wasn’t bad, but nowhere near as good as the Tonbridge beer. The same has to be said of my final beer of the day- Southdown Harvest from Harvey’s. The latter is one of the Lewes brewery’s regular seasonal beers, and although it had an addition of freshly picked hops, it wasn’t brewed exclusively with green hops. An enjoyable beer, nevertheless, and a good one to finish on.

Three pints was sufficient for that particular afternoon session, and to a man we all departed the pub in sufficient time to allow for the walk back to the stop at Sychem Lane, for the last bus of the day, back to Tonbridge. I enjoyed the session, and it was good to catch up with friends and acquaintances who I hadn’t seen in a long time. The Dovecote too was good, even though it wasn’t as busy as I expected. The same too, could be said of the previous Friday’s pub, the Wheatsheaf at Jarvis Brook, but not being a regular enough drinker on the last day of the working week, I’m probably not the best person to be making these judgments.

What I will say is, that apart from the standout Green Hop beer from Tonbridge, there wasn’t anything that out of the ordinary to convince me I was actually drinking a green hop ale. As I wrote in the previous post, the novelty surrounding Green Hop beers has definitely dropped off, certainly when compared to what was the case when they first burst on the scene, a dozen or so years ago. Full marks though to the Dovecote for hosting this relaxed, and relatively low-key event, and for keeping the Green Hop concept alive in the minds of local drinkers.

It was all happening last weekend

There was a lot happening last weekend, and my little jaunt out to the Wheatsheaf at Jarvis Brook was only a small part of it. I mentioned quite early on in the previous post, that I was looking for a pub selling Harvey’s Old Ale, the dark and delicious seasonal offering from the Lewes based, and staunchly independent brewery. I reflected briefly on the two tied Harvey’s pubs nearest to me (Brecknock and Elephant’s Head), but the pub I really had in mind was the Queen’s Head at Icklesham.

Set high on a ridge, with extensive views over the Brede Valley, just under half way between Rye and Hastings, and dating back to the early part of the 17^th century, the Queen’s Head is a Good Beer Guide perennial. It has featured in the CAMRA guide for 30 consecutive years, an achievement in itself, but more so when those three decades have been spent under the same landlord. I knew that the pub would almost certainly include Harvey’s Old amongst its range of three regular beers, no just because of listings on What Pub, but also from a visit I made several years ago, with the family.

That was back in February 2019, and I wrote about our experience of the pub, here. Getting to Icklesham by public transport would involve a fair degree of planning, and the evening before probably wasn’t the best time to be doing this. Despite this I discovered a bus service operated by Stagecoach, running from Rye, which would take me to within a few 100 yards of the Queen’s Head. The only trouble is Rye can a bit of a pain to get to by train, and a Rail Replacement Bus Service would be covering part of the route, due to planned engineering works.

Taking account of these obstacles, a quick re-think was necessary and, as described in the previous article, I visited the excellent Wheatsheaf instead. Whilst waiting for the bus over to Crowborough, I bumped into an old friend I know from Maidstone CAMRA. Like me he was in Tunbridge Wells waiting for a bus connection in order to undertake a spot of pub exploration of his own. He asked if I was going to the Spa Valley Railway Beer Festival that was taking place that weekend? I said I wasn't, and neither was he, primarily on account of the lack of seating in the train shed at Tunbridge Wells West, where the event takes place.

I knew what he meant, and anyway the weather was far too nice to be cooped up inside a grotty old Victorian train shed smelling of diesel and hot sweaty bodies. Looking back, I haven’t attended this festival since 2018, as the event has become too much a victim of its own success. Working behind the bar became increasingly manic, and at times almost impossible with thirsty punters pressing against the bar, several deep, and all waiting to be served. This is a great shame for those of us who like to engage with customers, and chat about the various beers on offer, but obviously impossible when the place is stacked to the rafters. You would get awkward individuals wanting a beer from the other end of the bar, which meant barging past your fellow bar staff, whilst trying to remember where you’ve got to return to. Even worse were those indecisive customers asking for “tasters.” After they’d had three or four, you just knew they’re taking the piss!

This constant pressure, with no proper rosters, or adequate breaks for staff, meant little or no respite for those working behind the bar. The fact that festival workers are all volunteers, shouldn't mean staff can be taken advantage of. Despite my own misgivings, and those of my friend from Maidstone, I understand the recent festival was a runaway success, with organisers having to order in extra beer, after almost running out on Saturday night.  

We parted company at the bus stop, as my friend was heading for Groombridge, where the Crown would no doubt provide a decent pint of Harvey's along with the peace and tranquillity one might expect from a traditional old inn. He hinted that he would then continue along the route of the No. 291 bus towards East Grinstead. I hopped on the No. 29 bus, and headed for the upper deck, nearly falling down the stairs as the driver pulled away sharply. Fortunately, I hung on, found a seat and sat down to enjoy the ride. The bus route took us past the Old West Station which, is adjacent to the town's main Sainsbury's supermarket. From the top deck, I could see people heading towards the beer festival, including a couple of people I knew, who also happen to belong to Maidstone CAMRA.

I was glad I was going somewhere different, somewhere more pleasant and quieter as well, but there was one aspect of the Spa Valley Railway Festival that, under different circumstances I might have enjoyed.  I’m taking here about Green Hop Beers – remember them? Well after all the publicity surrounding them when they first burst on the scene, a dozen or so years ago, beers brewed with freshly picked hops seem to have dropped off the radar in recent years. Quite possibly the novelty surrounding them has dropped off, and what at one time was a big deal – something new and exciting, seems to have lost it sparkle.

The biggest pointer that interest in this sector is starting to diminish, is there has been no all-encompassing Kent Green Hop Festival this year. Sure, there have been plenty of more localised events celebrating beers brewed with freshly-harvested hops, but with no county-wide focus the whole Green Hop thing has lost its focus. But not at the Spa Valley Beer Festival, because with almost 40 GHA’s available, the event almost certainly featured one of the largest gatherings of these special beers.

This might have been a reason for me to visit the festival, if the many factors I listed earlier had been addressed, but the upshot is fresh-hop beers are now starting to make an appearance on the bar of quite a few Kentish pubs. This more localised approach is one I am definitely in favour of, and allied to this is the mini festival of Green Hop Beers taking place at the Dovecote Inn, Capel, this coming weekend. With 12 GHA’s on sale over the Friday-Sunday timescale of the festival, this event is far more manageable, especially as it is not swamped by having too much choice.

I enjoyed the event last year, and the local CAMRA Branch have organised a visit to the Dovecote this Friday. The only trouble is I’m a week out with my timings, as I more or less promised to take Mrs PBT’s over to Dunelm to look at a long overdue replacement blind for the kitchen window, so how am I going to get around this one?

 

The White Hart, Jarvis Brook - a hidden gem on the edge of Crowborough

It’s 19^th October, just past the middle of the month, and soon it will be all downhill towards December and the onset of winter.  Fortunately, two or three of days of unseasonably warm weather, fuelled by some most welcome sunshine, has helped lift spirits and allowed me to get some outdoor, domestic chores completed, as well as including a visit to the local tip (waste recycling centre?). This left Friday (yesterday), free for a long overdue “Pub Friday”, and what's more it came with Mrs PBT's blessing. I’m not sure what I’ve done to deserve that, but never look a gift horse in the mouth, as they say.

The question was which pub to visit, a dilemma I ended up mulling over for quite some time. What I really wanted to do was to enjoy a couple of pints Harvey's Old Ale, the dark and delicious seasonal offering from the brewery that is launched with a flurry of publicity at the start of October, and which continues on sale throughout the winter, and sometimes, well into early spring (March.) As its name suggests, it’s definitely a beer for the cooler months of the year, and it also happens to be one of my all-time favourite brews. The thought that the beer had already been sale for a couple of weeks, was sufficient to spur me into action, so I set about finding somewhere guaranteed to have it on sale.

I added a caveat to this quest, in so much that ideally, I wanted to enjoy my first pint of this year’s Old, at a pub I’d either never been to before or, failing that, one I frequent very rarely. A Harvey’s tied house would be my best bet, and the easiest thing would have been to hop on the train towards Hastings, and alight at Frant – one stop down the line from Tunbridge Wells, and close to the village of Bells Yew Green where it would almost certainly be on sale at the delightful Brecknock Arms, just five minutes’ walk from Frant station. Slightly further afield, and involving a rather infrequent bus service, I could have visited the Elephant’s Head, an historic, part stone-built, half-timbered old Wealden building, where roaring log fires add to the sense of cosiness and comfort.

The problem with that was, Friday was set to be another unseasonally warm, mid-October day, more suited to sitting out in the garden, than huddled around a blazing wood fire. It was then that the idea of visiting the Wheatsheaf at Jarvis Brook came into my head. The Wheatsheaf is a Harvey’s pub, which meant it was far more likely to have the Old Ale on sale. It was also a pub that I’d never been to before, so that was two boxes ticked, for starters, but what about the pub itself?

I'd obviously heard of the Wheatsheaf and the things I’d heard about it were good, but for some strange reason I had visions of a pub, situated in a suburban area and surrounded by the dull trappings that do with suburbia. Boy was I in for a shock, but it was a good shock, as I shall recount later. The first thing was to work out how to get there, sensibly and relatively quickly, using public transport. Bus was the logical choice, with the No. 29, Brighton & Hove operating a half hourly service between Brighton and Tunbridge Wells via Crowborough.

Crowborough is a large and sprawling East Sussex town, with a population of roughly 21,000 souls. It lies within the High Weald Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty at the edge of Ashdown Forest. During the late 19th century, Crowborough was promoted as a health resort based on its high elevation, the rolling hills and surrounding forest. Some estate agents even called it "Scotland in Sussex". The surrounding topography wasn’t exactly conducive to the rail travel, but despite this potential barrier the railways reached the town in 1868, leading to significant growth for Crowborough.

The railway station is located to the southeast of the town centre at Jarvis Brook. It is a thirty-minute walk, or a fifteen-minute bus ride straight down Crowborough Hill to reach the station, which is on the Oxted- Uckfield line, operated by Southern  and providing a direct link with London Bridge, East Croydon, Edenbridge Town and Uckfield. The journey time to London Bridge is approximately one hour. The line itself has seen some much-needed investment in recent years, after being allowed to wither under the ownership of British Rail, but the severance of the onward southbound connection between Uckfield and Lewes, led to this former mainline, becoming something of a backwater.

The truncation of the line at Uckfield, was the result of a road “improvement” scheme in the late 1960’s, combined with a reluctance on the part of BR, and the government of the time, to provide funding for a diversionary route. As a nation, we’re rather good at "short termism", and bad at planning for the future. Once Upon a time I could have caught a direct train from my home in Tonbridge down to Brighton, via Uckfield and Lewes, and this would have been the ideal way to journey to Jarvis Brook. The loss of the Uckfield-Lewes connection was further compounded in 1985, by the closure of the line from Tunbridge Wells West to Eridge, via Groombridge. 

Both closures mean there is now no direct link between Tonbridge and Crowborough. Instead, one has to take a train on the Tonbridge-Redhill line, alight at Edenbridge top station, and then take a 25-minute walk to Edenbridge Town, which is on the line down from Oxted to Uckfield. I made use of this route for my journey home, but as far as my outward travel was concerned it was a nice day, my bus pass, entitles me to free travel, and the route taken by the No. 29 bus passes through some attractive rural scenery.

I left the bus at Crowborough Cross and began the long descent from the town centre, down to Jarvis Brook. The walk was literally downhill all the way and seemed to go on forever. Here and there I caught glimpses of the surrounding hills, but most of the walk was through a pleasant mixed selection of late Victorian and early 20^th century suburbia. The map on my phone indicated a right turn into Tollwood Road, and straight away there was a sudden change from urban suburbia to a narrow country lane that skirted an area of woodland know as Crowborough Country Park.

This provided the ideal opportunity of emptying my bladder, something I would have done upon leaving the bus, if there had been the appropriate facilities! Fortunately, I wasn’t disturbed by itinerant joggers or local dog walkers and continued on my way feeling a lot more comfortable. It wasn't long before the road finally flattened out, and just around a bend on the left-hand side, and peeping through the trees, I could see the Wheatsheaf an attractive looking white painted weather boarded pub said to date back to the 1700s. For a moment my heart fluttered because I wasn't sure it was open, or not, even though I had checked the pub’s hours of trading, prior to setting out.

I gingerly turned the handle of the front door, and stepped inside, finding myself in a lovely old, wood-panelled room with a step up to the right, where the bar area was situated. Brimming with anticipation I thankfully spotted the welcome sight of a pump clip indicating that Harvey’s Old was indeed on sale. I of course ordered myself a pint and am pleased to report that it was in fine form and brought back pleasant memories of past autumns and winters. The quality indicated by the first couple of mouthfuls, made the possibility of a second pint, almost inevitable, but in the meantime, I had a look around the pub. There were two other rooms, both furnished with open fireplaces, but on a day like last Friday there was no need for them to be lit.

The Wheatsheaf wasn’t exactly full to overflowing but there were several couples, of various ages, enjoying a drink and a bite to eat. Disappointingly, very few of them seemed to be drinking the cask, an observation that was reinforced when I ventured outside. There a noisy group of builders-types were winding down for the week over a few drinks. To a man they all seemed to be necking back pints of lager – Moretti if the font on the bar was anything to go by

Looking to have something more solid, to go with my beer I asked the barmaid about snacks. It was the usual range of crisps and nuts, or something more substantial from the kitchen, but if I wanted something in between, I could always have a bowl of chips. Sold to the man on the right! and furthermore, at the barmaid's suggestion, they were served to me outside, in the pleasant garden at the rear of the pub. That way I was able to enjoy what would probably be the last day of  warm, autumn sunshine. When my chips arrived, I sprinkled then liberally with salt, and tucked in. They proved the perfect accompaniment to the beer.

I'd written down the train times prior to leaving home, and although Google Maps was indicating just a nine-minute walk to the station, I confirmed the route with the girl behind the bar. This was via a track at the rear of the pub, which opened up into an industrial estate. Soon after, I arrived at Crowborough station, with plenty of time to spare. I had to buy two tickets for the return journey, primarily because National Rail can’t comprehend there are two stations at Edenbridge, separated by a 25-minute walk. My journey from Crowborough, represented the first time that I’d travelled northwards, on that stretch of line, but it was a pleasant journey across the Sussex-Kent border, taking me through station such as Eridge, Ashurst, and Hever, before arriving at Edenbridge Town.

There was sufficient time to walk up to the top station where; after buying my second ticket, I boarded the train back to Tonbridge.  It had been a most pleasant day out, and furthermore I’d found a marvellous little pub. How I could have spent the best part of 40 years living within easy travelling distance of the Wheatsheaf, and not visited the place, is beyond, but that’s what happens when you allow preconceptions and prejudices to cloud your judgment. The rather boring, suburban pub that was fixed in my mind, tunes out toe be nothing of the sort, and instead I found one of the best rural alehouse I have enjoyed in a long time.