A quick catch-up on the domestic front

As we pass the midpoint of March, and with five blog articles under my belt, I have reached the halfway point in my goal of 10 posts per month. It’s been hard going at times, as there’s been a lot happening on both the domestic and the work front, including the planning of a couple more cruises.  The latter demonstrates that play is just as important as work, if not more so! In the meantime, I have remained occupied with several projects leading to improvements on both the house and garden fronts. I won't bore you with the details now, although I will return to that great British standby topic, of the weather.

So far this month, we’ve experienced intermittent spells of warm weather, interspersed by a couple of cold, and I mean very cold, snaps. During my lunchtime walk yesterday, I had to return briefly to the office to grab my woolly hat due to the cold northerly wind. 

Walking across the old Penshurst airfield meant facing this biting wind directly, but today it was a different scenario, with the beginning of forecast spell of warmer conditions. I’m sure that poor mother nature doesn’t know which way to turn, but despite recent setbacks spring is well and truly on its way. Numerous daffodils are now in bloom, and some trees are showing signs of blossom. Typically, blackthorn is the first tree to bloom, with its pink and white flowers adding a contrasting touch to the yellow hues of daffodils and primroses.

This year, we are saying farewell to the kitchen garden, which is the plot of land closest to the house. It did us proud last year, with a bountiful crop of runner beans, plus a few sweetcorn, although I rather naively left it too late, before harvesting the cobs. On the other side of the garden though, the leeks I planted out early last autumn, have come into their own, and we are slowly munching our way through them, not only in stews or casseroles, but also as tasty late winter vegetables, in their own right.

Growing one’s own veg requires a lot of effort, as well as time, and it is the latter that I want to have more of this summer, especially as there are places, I wish to visit and pubs I want to drink in. The kitchen garden then, is to be converted into an area of hard standing. I have already reached out to an old school friend of Matthew’s, who has successfully established his own landscape gardening business, and am waiting for him to call round in order to price up the job.

Mrs. PBT has already staked her claim to this proposed area and marked it as somewhere to “sit out", whatever that means. This is despite us already having a patio area, for that sort of thing. It’s probably just as well that she doesn’t know of my plan for a new, but smaller greenhouse, as this flat, area of solid ground would serve well as the ideal base for such a construction.   

 Our current, and rather tumbledown greenhouse, came as part of the house, when we moved in during 1994. Although I have made numerous repairs to the structure, including replacing broken panes with Perspex ones, and fitting staging inside, thanks to a combination of weather and old age, it has now deteriorated to a point where it is beyond redemption. So, a small, compact greenhouse sited nearer the house, seems a practical solution, and one I am determined to press on with.

In the meantime, we’ve got a couple of cruises to look forward to. The first, in just over a week, is a four-day cruise, to Hamburg and back. Our son Matthew will accompany us on this short sea voyage, which will be his first cruise, and his first experience of life afloat. He appears to be looking forward to it, although he has not expressed much enthusiasm verbally. I have assured him of an extended tour of central Hamburg, planned to span from mid-morning until late afternoon, and after reviewing various blogs, including Retired Martin's, as well as online recommendations, I have compiled a shortlist of potential bars and pubs near the city centre, with one looking out across the Elbe River.

 

Starting from the third week in May, Mrs PBT’s and I will be embarking on a two-week cruise around the coast of the British Isles. The itinerary includes several stops in the Highlands and Islands, with a crossing of the Irish Sea towards the end of the voyage. Our ship will be docking at both Dublin and Cork. I may opt to skip the former, having spent a long weekend in the Irish capital a decade ago, mainly because the ship docks some distance from the city centre, and requires a tender for disembarkation. Eileen isn’t over-keen on hopping off one vessel and onto another, particularly if there’s a bit of a swell. Cork should be an enjoyable destination, as it is the Republic's second-largest city and renowned for its legendary stout brands such as Murphy's and Beamish, both of which are better than Guinness, IMO.

Upon returning from our these two spring holidays, I am planning to head north and explore a few of the Yorkshire towns that I have not previously had the opportunity to visit in depth, if at all. Halifax, Huddersfield, and Hebden Bridge spring to mind, so any recommendations as to which is the better pub town? After that, is back to domesticity, and the plan is to have a new kitchen installed. We’ve been in the house for over 30 years, and the current kitchen is the result of a botched DIY job by the previous, rather eccentric owner of the property. We will try and arrange for that work to be carried out whilst we’re sailing around Britain's coastline.

Finally, even though there may be more domestic stuff to write about later, the blog is undergoing a reorganization. This involves removing a number of inactive, or rarely updated blogs, that were cluttering my blog list, making it difficult to find active ones. While they don’t affect the blog directly, having to scroll through numerous entries that haven’t been updated for months or longer means it's time to let go of some, even if they hold sentimental value to their authors. On the plus side, I have added several new sites to the list, more details to follow, if you haven’t spotted these changes already.

Pub Friday - Salehurst & Robertsbridge Pt. 2

Carrying on from the previous post, you left me arriving at the tiny village of Salehurst, and about to enter the quaintly named Salehurst Halt pub. This would be my second visit to the pub, with the last one being during the summer of 2017. It had been a scorcher, on that occasion, and despite an evening walk out from Robertsbridge, it was still stiflingly hot when my friend Eric and I arrived at the pub.

The weather conditions were obviously different last Friday, with a chill northerly wind doing its best to lower temperatures, but there was no sign of the threatened rain. I was still relieved to reach the sanctuary of this solid, but unassuming Victorian building, although my next thought was, would the pub be open? Daft question really, as of course it was, but sometimes you do get that heart-stopping feeling that, “Due to unforeseen circumstances, we are unable to open today.”

Relieved at spotting a light inside, I turned the door handle and stepped inside. The pub seemed to be ticking over nicely, with a mixed group of patrons, consisting mainly of diners, but also the occasional drinker, such as me. One hardy individual was sitting there in his hiking gear, with his OS Map spread out on the table, in anticipation of the next stage of his hike. He looked like the person I’d spotted earlier, on the train down from Tonbridge. People watching aside, the Salehurst Halt describes itself as a family run, community led, country pub, with a policy of supporting local producers when sourcing its food and its drink. There is a focus on seasonality and sustainability, whilst balancing the traditional with the more modern, and a look on the pub’s website, will confirm this.

The need for a beer was foremost in my mind, and true to the Halt’s policy, the three cask offerings were indeed all locally sourced. Arrow Head, from the nearby Battle Brewery took my fancy, at first – another new tick on Untappd? But standing out on the bar was a pump for Harvey’s Old, almost certainly my favourite winter beer, and one that I hadn’t seen a lot of this season. I was a little bit apprehensive, when the barmaid mentioned pulling some beer through – it turned out they hadn’t sold any that morning, but I needn’t have worried, as the beer was pure nectar. Rich, dark, inviting, and satisfying, in other words hitting the spot in all ways imaginable.

I took my pint, and sat at a convenient empty table, in sight of the bar, thinking the day couldn’t get much better, even though a light snack, would put the top hat on things. I ordered a bowl of chunky fries, skipping the cheese as a nod towards being healthy, and whilst waiting for them to arrive made a visit to the Gents, on the pretext of looking around the rest of the pub. It was very much as I remembered it from that first visit, seven years ago, although most of the customers, myself included, seemed a little older.

The main thing is the Salehurst Halt is still open, and functioning as a “proper” pub, an encouraging sign during these times when the licensed trade is under pressure from all sides. I mentioned last time, how the pub featured on an episode of BBC “Country File”, when singer and actor David Essex paid the place a visit, because it reminded him of childhood holidays, hop-picking with his East-London family. In the meantime, my chips turned up, and whilst waiting for them to cool slightly, I ordered another glass of Old Ale. With the inner man fully satisfied, it was time to make my way back to Robertsbridge. This time, the walk was in full sunshine, although there was still a slight chill in the air.

Arriving back in the village, there was one final pub to visit prior to catching the train home, and that was the Ostrich Hotel.  Opened in 1851, following the completion of the railway from London, the pub’s name is derived from the coat of arms on its sign, which are those of the lordship of the Manor of Robertsbridge.  It is a comfortable pub with a large “L”-shaped bar and separate games room and restaurant. The walls are adorned with an assortment of paintings, prints and other pieces from the landlord’s collection, and there are some rather saucy Edwardian photos in the Gent’s toilets. With a number of comfortable old sitting chairs, the place had the feel of a 1920’s sitting room.

Eric and I had really enthused over the pub, on our first visit, back in 2016, describing it as a good, old-fashioned sort of pub, of the type both of us remembered with affection from our youth. The landlord had recounted how he had bought the Ostrich from the owning brewery, back in the mid 1990’s, and described the establishment as a “proper pub”. Apart from the guvnor and me, there was just two other customers in the pub, but it was mid-afternoon. I’ve a feeling that the landlord recognised me, in the way that pub licensees have a knack for remembering faces. It might have just been my imagination, but whatever the case, the Harvey’s Best was in good form.

It's worth bearing in mind that as well as serving decent, and keenly priced food, the Ostrich is also a full-blown hotel, offering two twin-bedded en-suite rooms and one double room with a private bathroom. Along with the nearby George, it makes a good base for exploring the Rother Valley and surrounding area. I only stayed for one pint, as three and a bit is ample for me, especially during the afternoon. I left the pub and walked the short distance across the road, to the station and the train home.

It was good to discover that little had changed in Robertsbridge and Salehurst over the past seven years, although this update from local correspondent Dominic, that appeared on the blog in 2023, sheds a little light on the closed Harvey's pub, a derelict old mill, plus the KESR extension.

"Several tenants held the Seven Stars for relatively short periods and seemed to find it hard going. It has been closed now ever since .... and the signage removed. It is deteriorating, and the parish council planning committee has expressed concern. The chapel next door has sold recently, thought to be for residential."

"Hodsons Mill, in Northbridge Street remains derelict after 19 years. Planning consent for a major residential and commercial development remains extant. Rebuilding the railway back to Bodiam and the KESR is going ahead."

Pub Friday – Robertsbridge & Salehurst Pt. 1

Welcome to the long overdue next installment of Pub Friday where, with Mrs PBT’s blessing I head off into the countryside of Kent, East Sussex and occasionally posh Surrey as well, in search of a few pubs gems to satisfy my need for “proper” pubs or, better still find somewhere new that I haven’t visited before. Pub Friday also includes re-visiting the odd few pubs I remember from my mis-spent youth, that I haven’t visited in decades, and are still trading, as sadly many of them have fallen by the wayside.

Friday was actually a return visit to the pleasant, and quite large, Sussex village of Robertsbridge, that also included a detour along a quiet rural lane, to a classic rural pub that I visited, for the first and only time, back in 2017. Does this fall into the definition of what Americans would call a “side-trip?” Rather than making use of my usual free, old-git’s bus pass, this time I took the train. Reasons, a relatively fast, direct and frequent rail service from Tonbridge, and I still obtained discounted travel using my “Senior Railcard.”

As I mentioned a short while ago, this was a return visit, and whilst there had been a small number of changes, both village and hamlet were as they were eight years ago. My departure from Tonbridge was an hour later than intended, thanks to me not setting the alarm clock, although if I’d surfaced just 20 minutes earlier, I would have caught the 10:31 train, rather than the 11:31. The earlier service would have brought me to Robertsbridge just after 11am, which would have allowed ample time for a mooch around the village, before making the 30 minute or so walk out to Salehurst. Never mind, I overslept, and I don’t do rushing at my age. The annoying thing is there is a semi-fast train that runs on the hour, but unfortunately, Robertsbridge isn’t one of the stops on that service.

The rail journey, through the Weald, is always a pleasant one, and at this time of year, doubly so. As we passed through the various stations on the route, I reflected on some of the pubs we have lost, over the past decades. The Rock Robin, just outside Wadhurst station, now replaced by a soulless block of apartments, and the Etchingham Arms, just a short hop from Etchingham station. The former pub is still visible from the train, but it must be 20 years or so, since it last welcomed customers.

Robertsbridge too, hasn’t been without its share of closure, and I’m sad to report that the status of the Seven Stars remains the same. This fine old 14^th Century inn was closed, when I first visited the village back in 2016. The pub is owned by Harvey’s, who were reported at the time as having difficulty in finding suitable tenants for the pub. Some have argued that this may be due to the high rent which the brewery were reportedly asking. The Seven Stars is not the first pub Harvey’s have had difficulties with in recent years as the Two Brewers at Hadlow, saw a succession of tenants come and go, and is now listed as long-term closed. This state of affairs isn’t really befitting of a fine old independent family brewery like Harvey’s.

Back to the positives, and the good news is that work on the new Robertsbridge terminus, for the Kent & East Sussex heritage railway, is progressing at speed with the building that will serve the recently installed new platforms, now looking like a station. Robertsbridge to Bodiam Reconnection Project. If and when this stretch of line is re-laid, and the restoration project completed, it will be possible to travel by a heritage train from Robertsbridge via Bodiam to the eastern end of the line at Tenterden. Much work remains before this “missing link” can be fully restored, but sidings and new track has been laid, adjacent to the main-line station, to allow locomotives and rolling stock to transfer onto the heritage railway from the London - Hastings line.

So, with my train arriving at 12:05, I decided to grab a pint first, and push back the walk until later on. I also decided that the Ostrich, which is just across from the station, should wait until last. This meant that a beer at the George would be in order. Until the coming of the railway, the George was the village’s main coaching inn, and today this imposing red tiled fronted building is probably Robertsbridge’s premier pub. It dates from the 18^th century and, as might be expected, has plenty of low beams. There are views from the bar, back down the High Street with the distinctive War Memorial clock tower, erected in 1926, featuring prominently just across the green. 

The bar area occupies the far right of the building, and this is where most of the drinkers were gathered, in front of the large, inglenook fireplace. They seemed disappointed that the fire was unlit and were not impressed by the landlady’s excuse that the pub had run out of logs. She reminded the crowd that temperatures had hit the high teens the week before, but they remained unimpressed. I wasn’t impressed either by the way the locals were blocking access to the bar, and although I was probably the only stranger in the pub, I thought it bad manners on their part.

To be fair, the landlady acknowledged my presence more or less straight away and pulled me through an exemplary pint of Harvey’s Best, but the atmosphere at the George was decidedly cliquey. With the Cheltenham Festival in full swing, racing seemed the main topic of conversation, but as someone with absolutely no interest in the “sport of kings” it wasn’t long before I beat a hasty retreat. I imagine that things are different in the evenings, as the main part of the pub is given over to diners. That said, there was only one couple eating, and they too, seemed to be locals. As an aside, the photo of the fireplace dates back to an earlier visit.

It was time to go, so I headed off through the village in a northerly direction, following the road as it curved downhill. Looking at the numerous attractive old buildings lining this narrow street, it’s hard to imagine now the traffic chaos that must have ensued before the construction of the bypass, when the busy A21 trunk road ran straight through the heart of Robertsbridge. As my route led out of the village, I noticed to the right, the recently laid track that currently terminates at Northbridge Street, but in the other direction runs back to the K&ESR’s new Robertsbridge Junction station, mentioned earlier.

After safely crossing the busy A21 at a set of traffic lights, I headed off in an easterly direction, along a quiet rural lane, towards the tiny village of Salehurst. The imposing church tower of St Mary the Virgin acted as my guide.  It was a pleasant walk, and with the sun starting to break through the clouds, I could feel the warmth of the sun chasing away the mid-March chill. There is gentle ascent into the village, and there, on the right is the quaintly named Salehurst Halt. This unassuming brick-built, part tile-hung Victorian building, takes it name from when there really was a nearby “halt”, back in the days when the original Kent and East Sussex Railway ran along the valley of the river Rother, from Robertsbridge, towards the border with Kent.

I’m going to draw a stop to the post here, and continue next time, as there’s still plenty to report on what was really an excellent day out in rural Sussex.

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.