The Rose's revival, continues apace

I first became acquainted with Hadlow in 1979 when I ended up working in nearby Tonbridge. I was living in Maidstone at the time and my journey to and from work took me along the A26, and through the village. I remember counting four pubs as I passed through the settlement and being interested in licensed premises and brewing took the opportunity, over the space of a couple of years, of trying them all. Five years later, in 1984, I moved to Tonbridge, saving a commute of around 30 minutes each way.

Fast forward 46 years and there is now just one pub remaining in Hadlow, plus one to the south of the village. That pub is the Rose Revived, and it is situated just off the A26, in Ashes Lane, roughly half a mile before you come to Hadlow Further Education College. The pub’s name came about back in the 1970's, when a previous landlord bought what had been a rather run-down Charrington’s pub called the Rose & Crown.  After spending a lot of time, money and effort, he restored this lovely old inn, to something approaching its former glory – hence the Rose “Revived.”

Another story claims the name change may have come about because there was another pub, in the centre of Hadlow, also called the Rose & Crown. Whatever the case, the Rose Revived is a lovely old, building which is around 400 years old, and for as long as I have known it, the pub has always sold a very acceptable pint of Harvey’s.  In recent years the pub has been considerably enlarged and now incorporates a large reception-cum- dining room along with a conservatory, at the rear of the building.

It had been several years since I last set foot in the Rose Revived, but last Sunday the opportunity arose to call in for a drink. This came about after visiting the nearby, BP filling station, at Three Elm Lane. What’s the attraction of a petrol station, I hear you ask? Well, it’s one of the few garages locally with an airline, and about the only one that still accepts coins. Motoring organisations claim that tyre pressures should be checked weekly, but mine are lucky if they’re checked quarterly, although I do tend to check them, if I’ve got a lengthy journey coming up.

I suppose Southampton is a longish journey, and we’ll be heading down that way in just over a fortnight – more about that, another time. So, a quick air injection into the two front tyres, (the rear ones were ok), and then off to the Rose Revived. Matthew was with me, and needed little persuasion to stop for a pint, even though it was Pravha that he was drinking. I forsook my normal Harvey’s Best in favour of a most enjoyable pint of Fox from Exmoor Ales – a brewery we rarely see now, in this part of the country. There was a time when beers such as Exmoor Gold, Stag or Beast were quite common in the south east, but for some reason, this is no longer the case.

Being a Sunday, we expected the pub to be crowded, and with the Rose Revived a popular local dining spot, it was no surprise to discover car parking spaces were at a premium. We managed to squeeze in at one of the two over-spill parks, and prior to walking along to the pub, stopped for a look at the now sadly closed, Hadlow College Farm Shop. Visits to the shop had provided a welcome break during the monotony of the Covid lockdown, and as it was one of the few places with a regular and reliable supply of flour, during the early stages of the pandemic, we made quite a few visits there.

The shop alas, is no more, after becoming a victim of the financial crisis suffered by the group that was running Hadlow College. This came about when the college expanded from its traditional Hadlow base to take over the running of both West Kent College in Tonbridge and Ashford College. All were plunged into crisis in 2019 , when debts in Hadlow College had reached £40 million, while at WKAC (the corporation managing West Kent and Ashford colleges) they were in excess of £100 million! The Department for Education was forced to step in, resulting with the stricken colleges being taken over by other established, educational groups.

Returning to the pub, it was  relatively quiet inside, despite the number of vehicles in the car park, as the majority of customers were sitting outside in the extensive garden, enjoying the unseasonably good early spring weather – it didn’t last more than a few days, of course! Matthew and I found a convenient corner, at the far right of the main room, and in sight of the bar. There were lots of family groups in the pub, which was unsurprising given that it was Sunday lunchtime, and whilst there was the occasional little person buzzing about the place, they were, on the whole, well behaved. I wasn’t entirely sure though, about the two young children (boy and a girl), sat on stools at the end of the bar. Even with their father standing behind them, it did look a little odd. They looked like they were enjoying their bowls of ice cream, whilst dad finished off his pint.

Apart from that, it was a typical, family oriented, Sunday lunchtime. I took a stroll through the dining area-cum-conservatory, on my way back from the Gents, even though it wasn’t the most direct route. I do like to be nosey, and the various joints of roast meats, being kept warm on a large hot plate, behind the serving area, looked particularly appetising. The carvery at the Rose Revived, has a good reputation locally, and the Bailey family can speak from experience here, even though that was several years ago (the last time I visited the pub).

To sum up, it was good to see a country pub thriving, and it was also nice to enjoy a pint of West Country beer, from a brewery that we seldom see in Kent, these days. For people like me, who prefer someone else to drive them to the pub, the Rose Revived is easily reached by bus, with a half-hourly service (No. 7 Arriva), stopping right opposite the entrance to Ashes Lane.

 

St Albans - historic city and CAMRA's spiritual home

Last Wednesday I took the day off from work to accompany son Matthew on a trip to a town that neither of us had visited before. I perhaps ought to say city, rather than town, because the Hertfordshire settlement of St Albans is a city, on account of its 11^th century cathedral. I’m not entirely sure what prompted Matthew’s suggestion of visiting St Albans, but I have an inkling it was a desire to visit one to the other branches of the chain of hardware stores he works for.  It is a surprisingly short journey by train from Tonbridge, which for Matthew and I involved a virtually seamless transfer at London Bridge, from Southeastern trains onto a Bedford bound Thameslink service.

Despite ample legroom, Thameslink trains have hard and uncomfortable seats. The cleanliness was also way below par, particularly in the toilet area where the floors need attention. Shockingly, some delightful individual had left a soiled pair of Calvin Klein underpants on the toilet floor, expecting the cleaning staff to handle with them. Sorry about that, but standards in certain areas of our society have seriously declined! Apart from that, the journey through Hertfordshire countryside, which wasn’t looking its best in late February, proceeded swiftly. We arrived at our destination, shortly after midday and began our exploration of the former Roman town.

St Albans was initially known as Verlamion, a settlement of the Catuvellauni tribe in southeastern Britain. Around AD 50, it became the Roman settlement of Verulamium, which subsequently developed into the third largest town in Roman Britain. After the Romans' departure, the settlement transitioned into the Anglo-Saxon town of Verlamacaestir, eventually becoming known as St Albans, reflecting its connection with Saint Alban. The St Albans Cathedral, established in 1077, is located on the site where Saint Alban, one of Britain's earliest Christian martyrs, was buried.

Much of the cathedral is constructed out of bricks, many of which were sourced from the ruined city of Verulamium. Unfortunately, the interior of the cathedral was inaccessible due to a graduation ceremony taking place there. More about that later, but as you didn't come here to read about ancient cathedrals, let’s talk about pubs instead. I had prepared a shortlist of five pubs for us to visit, but in the end, we only visited only three of them. Despite this, the ones that we visited were all of high quality and certainly matched our expectations. We noted that the distance from the station to the city centre was longer than anticipated, and certain areas of the city were noticeably hilly. Nevertheless, our overall impression was that of a vibrant and prosperous town in Hertfordshire.

Before stopping for a beer, we spent a bit of time exploring some of the local shops and visited the St Albans branch of Matthew's employer, as he was interested in seeing it. There was also an opportunity to grab a flat white from the local Greggs, since I didn’t get a coffee at London Bridge station.  Then, it really was time for a beer, and where better than the Lower Red Lion, a Grade II-listed pub located in a conservation area, just a stone’s throw from the city centre, and in one of St Albans most picturesque streets. Passing the cathedral area on our left, we headed downhill, and soon came to the Lower Red Lion, in the quaintly named, Fishpool Street.

It looked like my sort of pub, and what’s more it has two bars. We entered the bar on the left to begin with, but the friendly barmaid advised that the other bar would be warmer, as the fire had been lit. Following this advice, we stepped into the right-hand bar, which not only seemed larger than the other, also had a group of 20 to 30-somethings, enjoying a spot of lunch. 

Something to eat, seemed like a good idea to us too, so after ordering a beer for me (Side Pocket of a Toad), from Tring Brewery, plus a pint of international lager for master Matthew. The strangely named Tring beer, which I have previously seen on sale in several pub, was considerably better than its name, but better still was the haddock, chips and mushy peas. Priced at £15, it was good value for the area, and good eating as well.

The party of diners departed shortly before us, and upon settling our bill, I asked the barmaid for directions to the Olde Fighting Cocks, our next destination. She informed me that the pub was nearby, although we would need to retrace our steps towards the cathedral. I expressed an interest in viewing the interior but was advised that this would not be possible due to a graduation ceremony for students at the University of Hertfordshire. This explained the numerous individuals we had observed wearing academic gowns and mortar boards, accompanied by what appeared to be proud parents and other family members.

The cathedral grounds were still open, allowing access to the area surrounding the church. Heading downhill towards the River Ver, there is a parkland area where the Olde Fighting Cocks pub is located. The pub claims to be the oldest in England, dating back to the 9th Century, although several other establishments also make this claim. The building, which is octagonal in shape, was originally a medieval pigeon house and was rebuilt after flooding in 1599, likely caused by the nearby River Ver. Over the years, the pub’s charm has been maintained and enhanced by its custodians, landlords, and customers.

Putting aside claims of antiquity for a moment, the Fighting Cocks comes through as a thoroughly decent pub that is definitely worthy of a visit. It still retains many original features such as low ceilings, exposed beams, various nooks and crannies plus a bread oven next to one of the fireplaces. There is a large garden to the rear with an enclosed garden area for children. There is also some seating to the front of the pub by the river. Internally the pub was ticking over nicely, with a healthy mix of both diners and drinkers. An interesting range of beers was available, to tempt the latter group with brews from Adnams, Mighty Oak, and local outfit, the 3 Brewers to tempt drinkers. I opted for the Old Man & the Sea, a 4.1% dry stout from Mighty Oak Brewery, which was perhaps a little ambitious after the heavy lunch I’d recently enjoyed.

It was time to move on, and after walking past the south side of the cathedral, we arrived back in the city centre. We opted for the Boot Inn, anther Grade II-listed, pub dating back to 1422, with low ceilings, an open fire, although disappointingly the former dividing walls have been removed. With the historic Clock Tower just outside the front door, and the Abbey and Verulamium Park, close by, the Boot seems an obvious choice for visitors to St Albans.

It certainly seemed popular when we called in, with a lively and quite mixed crowd of punters. All were enjoying that late afternoon, early evening beer vibe that, whilst hard to describe, is something most seasoned pub goers will instantly recognise. Amongst others, there were beers from Tring, Titanic (Plum Porter, no less), plus Brew York on sale. I chose Duality, a twin-hopped pale ale from the latter outfit, a beer that was full of citrus favours, from the Mosaic and Citra hops used.

With hindsight, we perhaps should have selected a fourth pub to finish up in, and if we had, that pub ought to have been the Farrier’s Arms. The latter is a classic back-street local, that was tied to McMullen's of Hertford for many years, before becoming a free house in 2013. 

A plaque on the wall outside marks the first meeting of the Hertfordshire branch of CAMRA, and according to legend, the Farrier’s is the only pub in the city never to have forsaken cask ale. A missed opportunity perhaps, but the pub was located in the opposite direction to the station. It would have made sense to have called in at the Farrier’s on our way to the Boot, but as I said above, hindsight is a wonderful thing. That aside, Matthew and I both enjoyed our visit to St Albans, although whether we’ll return, remains to be seen.

An early spring walk to the Plough, at Powder Mills

We've had a few bright and sunny days recently, a welcome change from the wind, rain, and grey skies. With Mrs. PBT's busy with VAT returns, Friday seemed perfect to go outside in search of a country pub. After finishing my chores, I put on my hiking boots for the first time in months and headed down into Tonbridge. I was making for the Plough, at Leigh, a classic country inn that dates back to the 16^th century. It’s a pub I have known well over the years, and one that is quite easy to reach on foot, from my house in Tonbridge.  

The route goes across the sports ground, under the railway, over a footbridge, and then through to an area known as the Powder Mills. This settlement is close to the neighbouring village of Leigh and was once home to a number of gunpowder mills. The nearby streams provided power for the water mills, used to grind the charcoal, sulphur and saltpetre components that when mixed and finely ground together, make up gunpowder. The isolated position of this enterprise ensured that should the worst happen collateral damage to nearby houses and farm buildings would be minimal.

Pharmaceutical giant, GSK (Glaxo-Smith-Kline) once operated a research plant near Powder Mills, but it has since closed, leaving no trace. Despite this, the area is still known as Powder Mills. The closure of local industries, including multinationals, is unfortunately quite common, especially given the shenanigans of big business, and the increasing value of land, especially here in the south east. It will come as no surprise then to learn that the former GSK site is now occupied by housing. This does have the benefit of an improved footpath, leading to the lane where the Plough is situated, but is of little comfort to former GSK employees. I have known several of these over the years, and a recently appointed new member of our management team, worked at the site.  

I had been planning to walk to the Plough for some time and had considered doing it earlier in the year, but the short daylight hours deterred me. Walking back in the dark wouldn't have been wise. Now, with sunset around 6pm, there was plenty of time for a walk in the sunshine. Most of the path is tarmac or compressed rock chippings, except for one particularly muddy section that ruined the appearance of my nice clean boots. It was an enjoyable walk that was mostly flat, except for a slight hill near the Powder Mills. It was just before there that I noticed some sheep, but no lambs yet. However, with many ewes looking quite “bulky”, I’m sure that lambing must be imminent.

It was a lovely day for a walk, with just the bird song and the occasional buzz of aircraft, way over head, to disturb the rural tranquillity. Actually, the birds chirping away added to the occasion and the unmistakable sound of a woodpecker at work, was a sure sign that spring is on its way. Another sign was the patch of snowdrops, as I approached the pub. Even better were the daffodils blooming under the sign near the car park entrance. Upon arriving at the pub's main entrance, I did a quick look around before heading to the bar. Nothing seemed to have changed from previous visits, which is always a good sign.

There were two cask ales available, one each from Tonbridge Brewery (Old Chestnut) and Pig & Porter (Got The Face On). Pig & Porter seem to offer a different beer every week, but according to Untappd, I had drank this one before. It might be heresy for me to say so, but Tonbridge beers often feel a bit dull to me, although there are one or two exceptions. I ordered a pint of Pig & Porter, and the barman suggested I sit at the large, empty table, constructed from ancient, polished wooden planks, since they weren't expecting any large parties that day. I inquired if there were any weddings planned, as the Plough often hosts receptions in the adjacent barn. He said not this week, but it wouldn’t be long before the wedding “season” kicks off in earnest.  The beer was a bit too citrusy for my taste but after my walk, was still pleasantly refreshing.

The pub itself has been extended gradually, over the centuries, but in a timeless and seamless manner, meaning the sprawling interior is divided into several interconnected areas, that integrate well with one another. The main bar is dominated by a doubled-sided open fire, situated close to the doorway that leads down to the garden, and also the Great Barn. As might be expected in a pub of such antiquity, there are plenty of ancient, low, sturdy beams, blackened by centuries of age. The clientele that day seemed mainly elderly diners, although there were a few locals and their dogs who had popped in for a quick one. The stone-flagged floors mean that muddy paws, as well as mud-encrusted hiking boots are not a problem.

I didn’t fancy another pint, as neither of the two beers impressed me, so I set off on the walk back to Tonbridge, with the intention of diverting onto the path leading to Haysden Country Park. From there I could cut through the late 19^th and early 20^th Century housing developments that have grown up on either side of the railway. It had been some time since I’d last walked that way, but I followed my nose and eventually ended up at the Nelson Arms, where I knew I’d find a beer more to my taste.

I arrived at the pub just after 3.30pm, in the midst of that afternoon lull that many pubs seem to experience. There were nine cask beers on offer, plus a similar number of craft keg ales. I fancied something low in strength, but high in flavour, and Kernel Mild fitted the bill nicely, coming in at 3.4%. I hadn’t been in the Nelson long, when Jon, from Hadlow came in. I hadn’t seen him for a long time, so he came over and joined me for a chat. Coincidentally, Jon used to work at the GSK Powder Mills site but now works for a company that manufactures gas detection equipment.

Even more of a coincidence was the fact I was looking for a specialist company in relation to our pressurised gas systems at work. It was talking shop on a grand scale, but Jon promised to forward some details over to me, providing proof, if it was needed, that it’s who you now, rather than not what you know, that can make all the difference in life. We both left it at just the one pint each. Jon was keen to get over to Fuggles, as they were still running their “Dark Life” event, although this February promotion was now starting to run down. The idea behind Dark Life was a month-long celebration of dark and delicious beers. Whilst I was tempted, I knew that I t wouldn’t just stay for one so, as the News of the World used to say, I made my excuses and left.

Portsmouth, but what about Southsea?

We now return to the continuation of the recent tour of Portsmouth alehouses undertaken by myself and two legendary pub men - Paul Mudge and Dave Southworth. At the end of the previous post, you left us shortly after 1pm, at Portsmouth City Wall disappointed at finding that the Sally Port Inn didn’t open for a further two hours. There was nothing for it but to head for the next pub on the list, that being the Pembroke. On the way, we stopped at the City Wall for a brief look at the sea and following a spot of research I'm pleased to report that the portal in the wall is in fact the Sally Port and is in fact the feature from which the aforementioned pub, gets its name.

We walked a little further along on the landward side of the wall before heading inland past the large and open green space, of Governor’s Green. The Pembroke is located on a street corner, overlooking the green, and dates back to 1711. The pub became the Pembroke in 1900, having previously been known as the Little Blue Line. Its large, single room reflects the street corner aspect and as might be expected, its L-shaped bar is decorated, with naval memorabilia. I didn’t notice, until leaving, the signs below the windows describing the Pembroke as “Old Portsmouth’s Proper Pub”, but that was exactly what it was, and immediately the three of us felt the same. Without doubt, this basic and down to earth drinking establishment was that increasingly rare species, a proper stand-up-to-drink boozer, where decent beer, lively conversation and good company take pride of place.

There was proper beer too, in the form of Draught Bass, served alongside London Pride and GK Abbot. All three of us opted for the Bass and a mighty fine pint it was too. Served in proper, straight-sided glasses, bearing the famous Bass Red Triangle trademark, it was the perfect and most appropriate beer for this honest, working man’s local. Apart from the beer, and sense of camaraderie, there was little in the way of other attractions. As far as food was concerned, I was pleased to notice, a stack of cling-filmed cheese rolls (cobs if you prefer) on sale at the bar, from one of those see-through plastic containers.

On leaving the Pembroke we caught a glimpse of Portsmouth Cathedral, in the next block. According to Google, the cathedral has been a place of worship since the 12^th Century, although I was unaware that Portsmouth had such a building. If you look at the photograph, you can see the upper section of the Spinnaker Tower, poking up from behind the neighbouring buildings, making a perfect contrast between the old and the new. As we made our way towards the third pub, Dave remarked on how clean and tidy, Portsmouth looked, when compared to other towns, both here and in the US. The absence of litter, as well as that scourge of modern society the street “artists” with their spray-cans, mindless tags and squiggles, was another bonus. It amazes me why “graffiti” is given an air of respectability, by well-meaning people who describe such vandalism as art.

We headed off in a roughly easterly direction, ending up in Southsea, although it isn’t abundantly clear where the latter begins and Portsmouth ends. We eventually reached the Barley Mow, an unusual looking pub with an extensive ground floor extension, capped with a flat roof.  A number of signs around the exterior advertising the presence of cask ales, live music an award-winning patio garden give a taste of what to expect, although it definitely wasn't garden weather! The first impression, upon walking inside, was a substantial bar area, with wood-panelled walls, bedecked with numerous nautically themed, photographs, plus various items of assorted Bric a Brac. Guarding the fireplace was the model of a rather fierce looking witch.

The Barley Mow had an interesting selection of beers to tempt us with, including the ubiquitous London Pride, Gales HSB, GK Abbot, plus Hogs Back England’s Glory. It must be several years since I last had a Hogs Back beer, but it was obviously well worth the wait, and made a pleasant change from the other beers that we’d seen on sale, in other pubs. We found a table and sat down to enjoy our drinks. The pub wasn't exactly heaving but from the posters on the wall, plus the Barley Mow’s website, we soon ascertained that this was a real community pub. Other clues came from things such as quiz nights, live music evenings (Sunday and Thursday), weekly meat raffles, plus summer barbecues.

The next pub was the Hole in the Wall, situated in the next street. Described on the pub’s website as a “proper old local with wooden beams and a snug,” the Hole was virtually empty when we arrived, although it didn’t take long for things to liven up. It offers an ever-changing selection of cask beers, but the one that caught my fancy was Cinder Toffee Stout, from the New Bristol Brewery – but just a half, mind you! The pub is long and quite narrow, which might explain why I didn’t take any photos of the interior, but like the nearby Barley Mow, it’s obviously a popular place. Virtually next door, is a former Gales pub, as evidenced by the attractive tile work, spelling out G. Gale & Co’s Noted Horndean Ales.

Our final pub of the day was the King Street Tavern, a Wadworth pub, with interesting interior, and a wonderfully ornate, tiled exterior, which is the work of Portsmouth pub architect A E Cogswell. He was commissioned in the late 1880’s, by the pub’s former owners, Brickwood's Brewery, to come up with this attractive frontage, which has certainly stood the test of time. Today, this lovely, Grade II listed Victorian street corner local, is a perfect example of traditional pub architecture. In 2006 the pub was acquired by Wiltshire brewer, Wadworth of Devises, and renamed the King Street Tavern – clue, the pub is situated in King Street.

The pub’s interior is more contemporary in style, with wood panelled walls, green-coloured tiling behind the bar, and strategically placed, soft-lighting. Wadworth 6X was the cask beer of choice for the three of us, but an array of taps, on the rear wall, dispense “craft” beer for those who like that sort of thing. Furnishings are a mixture of traditional tables and chairs, plus upholstered bar stools and high tables. The King Street Tavern was starting to fill up when we arrived, and we were lucky to get a seat. We were also fortunate to secure some food, from the selection of American-themed menu – smokehouse ribs, brisket, burgers etc. My “dirty mac & cheese” was the right choice for keeping me going, and for soaking up some of the excess beer.

We called it a day there and made our way through the fading light to the city’s other station – Portsmouth & Southsea. We boarded the London-bound train, which called at Chichester on its way to the capital. Paul and Dave left the train there, and I thanked them both for their company over the past couple of days and said how much I had enjoyed the time we'd spent together. My onward journey was delayed by a points failure, just outside Gatwick station, but I was still back in Tonbridge before 9pm.

So, an excellent couple of days on the south coast, with some fine company. Now the only question left to answer, is where to next?