Farewell to 2025 - a gentle look back

It’s New Years’ Eve, and I’m painfully aware that I haven’t published an end of year review. I have been working on one, but it’s been slow progress, and at times like this, I’m easily distracted, and not just by trivia. One distraction was to book a trip to the local tip – sorry, "Waste Transfer Station" as Deform UK controlled, Kent County Council like to call them these days, although to be fair, it was the previous Tory administration that came up with this euphemism.

We have quite a lot of items to dispose of, and most of these were already bagged or boxed up in the shed, awaiting their fate. Well, that moment came earlier this afternoon when these pre-backed items were unceremoniously loaded into the back of the car, ready to be driven over to North Farm (it’s the industrial and wholesale area of Tunbridge Wells). I’d managed to book one of the two available slots for New Year’s Eve, so all I need do now, is drive over to the WTS, unload, dump the stuff (carefully unload each type of junk).

With luck there will be time for a pint on the way back, although as I shall be driving, it will strictly be a single pint of low to medium strength beer. There will then be the tallying up of number of different pubs visited over the past 12 months, even though I already know the score. Prior to my visit, I shall be calling in at my workplace to check the progress of a major revamp taking place to our staff canteen and kitchen area. 

Somewhere along the line, my official title of Safety Advisor, has morphed into that of Site Manager, which does mean I ought to be checking up on the project. Like HS2, and all manner of similar projects, this one isn’t running to time. I know this as the contractors sent me some photos earlier, but it is what it is, and at the end of the day if the job isn’t fully complete by the time the bulk of the workforce (me included), return to work next Monday, it won’t be the end of the world.

Looking back, it’s been quite a restful break that has allowed me to catch up on, or even complete, a number of different projects. There is one thing that has suffered, or rather has been neglected, and has been the absence of country walks. This unfortunately followed on from the pattern of the previous year, as since completing the North Downs Way in 2022, and then the Tunbridge Wells Circular Walk, the following year, there have been no set hikes or rambles for me to follow. And no pub walks either. I don’t know whether this is a sign of growing older, or whether general apathy has set in, but this worrying trend is one that needs fixing.

There used to be a WhatsApp group called the Weekend Walking Group, that was linked to the local CAMRA WhatsApp group, but that became moribund several years ago. The absence of these organised groups shouldn’t be seen as a barrier, because whilst my walk along the North Downs Way started out as part of an organised group, because I came in at the tail end of a friend’s completion of this Long-Distance Footpath, I was quite content to carry on from where this individual had finished off.  The Three River Valley Walks would be good series of rambles to look at in 2026. I already have a guidebook for this, and in case you’re wondering, the three walks are, the Darent Valley Path, the Eden Valley Walk, and the Medway Valley Walk.

As all three of these rambles primarily follow river courses, there is little, if anything in the way of gradients, and the majority of each ramble is potentially flat. So, these trails are easy going in most respects, although accessing the start of the Eden Valley Walk, takes a bit of detective work on the ground – clue, the source of the Eden, is in the middle of a field, and isn’t easily accessible by public transport. There’s another hurdle to overcome, because as the years go by, Mrs PBT’s has become a little over-protective, especially when it concerns me walking alone.

I like walking on my own, as I can set my own pace, but even I have to admit, it’s good to have company on such walks as well. Walking with companions isn’t always a guarantee of safety though, as I remember a colleague who went into cardiac arrest, whilst on a walk with his wife and daughter. Despite his wife being trained in first aid, the CPR she administered proved ineffective, and the wooded terrain the group was walking through, meant the air ambulance was unable to land either. Barry was younger than me, by several years, and as a cross-country runner, was considerably fitter, as well.

That’s enough doom and gloom for the time being, but it’s a timely reminder that none of use know how long we’ve got on this earth, and we owe it to ourselves and others, to keep ourselves fit and healthy, so we can live our best lives. Moving onto more cheerful things, Eileen and I booked ourselves on a circular navigation of the British Isles, cruising in an anticlockwise direction right around Britain, on Cunard’s newest cruise ship, Queen Anne. We made a return visit to Hamburg, a voyage on which we were joined by son Matthew, for his first cruise, and towards the end of the year, we visited the Azores plus the lovely island of Madeira. That, for me, was a long overdue return visit to those particular Atlantic islands, having first visited them on an “educational” school cruise, at the tender age of 16.

There wasn’t as much travel within the British Isles, as I would have liked – something I intend to rectify this coming year, but I managed visits to St Albans, Portsmouth, Topsham – a trip that touched briefly on Exeter as well plus I also made a return visit to Farnham, scene of my NDW completion, three years ago. The sea voyage took us to Newhaven (Edinburgh), Invergordon, Stornoway, Greenock, Liverpool, and Cobh (ROI). 

 On the home-front, we had a new kitchen installed, a job which also included fitting a new window, plus a complete re-plastering of the kitchen area.  We made the sensible decision of having this work carried out, whilst we were away on the Round Britain Cruise, which meant we missed the bulk of the disruption and virtually all of the mess. We were also able to have a good clear-out of the kitchen and cookery utensils that we’d accumulated over 40+ years of living together.

That’s probably it for the time being, apart from saying that I finished off the mini cask of Harvey’s XXXX Old Ale. I cracked it open on Christmas Eve, which was the day I finished work. I’m please to report that this dark, luscious and full-bodied beer remained bright, lively and well-conditioned, right down to the last drop. And now, after sharing that little pearl with you, I shall sign off and wish you all a happy, healthy and prosperous New Year.

Every pub in Tonbridge - No. 13 out of 15 - the George & Dragon

As part of my ongoing quest to visit 100+ pubs during the course of a calendar year, I realised I was inching close to another goal, not quite as impressive, or in the same league as the main one, but by an objective that was both achievable and relatively easy to complete.  The goal was also a simple one, as well as a logical one. The idea was to visit every pub in Tonbridge, but at the time of embarking on this quest, I had no idea how many public houses there are in the town. The answer to that question is there are a lot less public houses in Tonbridge than you might think, and if I told you there were only 15, then I’m sure you would have been as surprised as I was, when I totalled them all up.

I’ve spent the past five decades living in this pleasant, West Kent, market town, a period that is far longer than all the other places put together, that I’ve resided in. It’s also worth considering that there were five years preceding those 50, when I was employed in the town at a company that has long since vanished. Leaving aside all the other things that have occurred during that extended period, re-marrying, three house moves, the birth of a son and heir, saying a sad, but fond farewell to both my parents, running my own business, and then working for five separate companies – all in the private sector, then it’s not surprising that I’ve seen a lot of changes.

Some of those changes involve the continuing loss of pubs within Tonbridge and its immediate environs, and whilst some of those losses involved places that weren’t exactly National Inventory “Gems”, or places you'd wish to spend much time in, there were others that are sorely missed, even to this day. I haven’t got the time, or the patience at present, to rake through old records or revisit some of my own memories, but I might be persuaded to, one of these days.

Instead, I want to describe, briefly, a visit to pub No. 13 on the Tonbridge list, and pub No. 106 on my total list, so far, for 2025. The pub in question is amongst the oldest buildings in the town, and is a survivor, as well. The reason I have left it so late in the day are it’s awkward opening hours, and its position at the far end of the High Street, a location that makes it almost, but not quite, the most northerly public house in Tonbridge. I finally managed to set foot in the place yesterday, as being a Saturday the pub in question opened at the far more useful time of midday, rather than the usual weekday time of 4pm. The George & Dragon has, for as long as I can remember, been a sports-oriented pub with a large area to the left of the bar, dedicate to pool and darts. There are a number of televisions showing all major sporting events, spaced around the pub.  

Of more interest to me was the comfortable seating area, set around a substantial log-burning stove, to the right of the main bar. There is also and a large patio and garden to the rear of the building, although given the freezing temperatures we’ve been experiencing lately, this attraction is obviously reserved for warmer times of the year. There are regular quizzes and live music evenings and burgers and pizzas are served Wednesday to Friday evenings and weekends.  

In short, the George & Dragon is a no-nonsense pub, with decent, well-maintained furnishings. It is set up to work effectively for everyone, whether that’s families looking for a garden, groups wanting good pub grub or just a couple of blokes calling in for a pint. Beer wise, I was pleased to notice that Harvey’s XXXX Old Ale was available, alongside regular stalwarts, Harvey’s Best and Tonbridge Coppernob. Normally I would have jumped at the Harvey’s Old, but with a 5-litre mini cask of the beer at home, and still only half drunk, I opted for the Best instead.

Summing up, Tonbridge pub No. 13 proved well worth visiting, my only gripe being the lack of weekday, lunchtime opening. The G&D management obviously have their reasons for this and given the pub’s location on the northern edge of the town centre, I suspect there is insufficient trade to warrant opening. Things were different 40+ years ago when Mrs PBT’s and I worked on the nearby industrial estate, and the pub was sufficiently close for a quick pint, plus ham, egg and chips. Lunchtime drinking, especially on a Friday, was an accepted and relatively common practice, back then, but times change as does the work environment itself.

We’ll leave things here, although I am not expecting such a positive story from either of the two remaining Tonbridge pubs. For a start, both are “fizzers”, a term used by an old, and now sadly departed friend from my days with Maidstone CAMRA, who used the word to describe a keg-only establishment. One, is a back-street local, which once majored on cask, but is now just another rather, cliquey “sports bar”. The other is  the type of establishment that needs to employ “door men” or “bouncers” on Friday and Saturday nights. I shall have to pick a quiet time for visiting that one!

So this is Christmas, or rather this was Christmas

It’s Christmas Eve, evening if that makes sense, and I’m relaxing in front of my computer which, after the issue I reported earlier in the week, seems to be working alright. I’ll qualify that statement by saying working “at the moment”. For what it was worth, I went into the factory this morning, and by turning up for just a half day, the company granted us the whole day off, gratis. The six-mile drive was one of the quietest and easiest I’ve experienced in a long time, being virtually traffic free, pointing to the fact that for many people, the Christmas holiday had already began. If I’m brutally honest, I didn’t do a great deal, although I did box up and clear some old financial records away, to make room for the contractors who will be installing a new kitchen, in our staff dining area, over the Christmas period.

We shut up shop at 12.30pm, and I enjoyed the same, traffic free drive back to Tonbridge, although there was perhaps a few more vehicles on the road. The sun was shining, but with a cold easterly wind taking the edge of the temperatures, it did feel a little more like Christmas, than the mild conditions we’ve been experiencing lately. After a spot of lunch, I spent much of the afternoon assisting Mrs PBT’s with a number of domestic matters, all connected with preparations for the so-called “Big Day”, taking place the following morning.

All a little subdued then, and nothing like the Christmases of 30-40 years ago. We’ve witnessed some significant changes in drinking habits over the intervening four decades or so, especially when it comes to visiting the pub at lunchtime.  An activity that was once common practice, has virtually dried out, particularly within the workplace, with many employers proscribing lunchtime drinking for their workforce, altogether.  I can certainly remember long boozy lunch times, either on Christmas Eve, or the last working day prior to the festive break. The company would close around midday, and whilst some workers would head home to their families, others would head to the pub- myself included.

In the days before all-day opening, there would have been a rush to get in as may pints as possible, before “last orders” and then, “time” was called. At that stage it might have been either be time for farewells, or possibly off to someone’s house, where further drink might be taken. Such occasions were the preserve not just of hardened drinkers, but of workmates with understanding spouses who weren’t averse to having their domesticity disturbed by increasingly noisy and boisterous colleagues.

I remember staggering home from one such impromptu celebration, back when I was living in Maidstone, but working in Tonbridge. I’m still not sure how I got home, although I suspect a colleague, who’d been restricting his alcohol consumption, gave me a lift. I also remember turning the key in the front door lock, and then almost falling in across the threshold, as the latch suddenly released. My wife, at the time, was not amused and neither I think was the elderly neighbour from next door, who’d called round to offer her yuletide greetings!

Times change, as do people and places, and as increased responsibilities come along, so does the pressure to behave oneself, and conform.  There is pressure now on companies and businesses to encourage more responsible behaviour, amongst their employees, as are the increased responsibilities around duty of care. This is a field I am increasingly aware of through my position of Company Safety Advisor. Also, working in a rural location does mean the majority of employees drive to work, although a reasonable number commute in by train.

Returning, for a moment to those boozy Christmas Eve, pre-festive sessions, I can’t honestly remember the last time I attended one, apart from the time when over a period of two or three hours, I felt a bout on influenza taking hold. That was at the Man of Kent in Tonbridge, and despite my best attempts to try and drown the infection, it had me well in its grasp by the time I reached home. A day or so later, Mrs PBT’s went down with the same, so that wasn’t exactly the ideal Christmas present for my nearest and dearest. I think that since that incident, the pair of us have tended to avoid packed pubs in the run-up to Christmas. A touch of paranoia perhaps, but probably not a bad strategy overall.

Back to the present, with Christmas Day dawning early, it was all hands to the pump, or Eileen’s hands and mine. Matthew, very sensibly stayed in bed, whilst us oldies got up and started getting things ready. So, turkey plus ham joint in the oven, vegetables prepped, garden chairs retrieved from the shed and given a brush down and wipe over before being brought indoors. Then, after Matthew had surfaced, it was time for opening the presents – a tradition that has been seriously toned down over the years, and for good reason. As we grow older, we start to realise that there is less and less that we actually NEED, and the same applies to things that we really want.

I’m talking here about STUFF, physical things, objects, trinkets, if you like, items that might be nice to have, are things none of us really need. Eileen and I both reached the conclusion that if there is something we want, then we’ll just go out and buy it, or order it online. So, whilst we have continued with the present giving part of Christmas, it is primarily for the sake of our off spring. To be fair, Matthew has never been that demanding when it comes to birthdays or Christmases, and as long as he has certain, mainly food and drink, items, he’s a happy bunny.

Lecture over, if that’s the right word, and after unwrapping the presents, it was a question of a few nibbles, assisting Mrs PBT’s with a few final preparations, before Matthew’s girlfriend Charlotte and her pet pooch turned up. Food on the table, with plenty of decent beer for those that wanted it, and good conversation. This was followed by a lazy afternoon and evening, with more food consumed - Christmas pudding, mince pies, brandy sauce etc. I had a reasonable amount to drink - a couple of glasses of Harvey’s XXXX Old Ale, from the 5-litre mini-keg I bought the previous week. A glass of Pilsner Urquell – because the fridge was far more accessible from where I was sitting, and then, later on in the evening, I cracked open the bottle of Fuller’s Vintage Ale that I bought last year.

Brewed in small batches, to a strength of 8.5%, and released on a yearly basis, the bottle I bought n Waitrose last year was a 2023 vintage. I’d chilled it slightly before opening, by leaving the bottle out on the back step. My tasting notes from Untappd, describe the beer as, "Full-bodied, packed full of juicy malt, and with more than a hint of spiciness. Definitely a beer to be sipped and savoured". I resisted the temptation to crack open the bottle of port I bought for last year’s Christmas, although I expect it will get opened, this time around, and that, gentle readers, was Christmas 2025, in a nutshell.

 

 

In two day's time, it will be all over bar the shouting!

As hinted at in the previous, and rather rambling post, there’s a lot going on, both past and present, as the run-up to the so-called “Big Day” begins in earnest. I’m not quite sure what’s so big about the 25^th December, but whatever it is I shall be relieved when it’s all over, as I’m certain dozens of other folk will be, up and down the land. I chose, quite deliberately, to go into work these past two and a half days, and with minimal production, packing and selling, it provided an opportunity to catch up on a number of tasks that had been hanging around for ages. My absence from the family home also gave Mrs PBT’s the chance to get ahead with preparations for 25^th.

I called in at Waitrose, on my way home from the factory, to pick up our pre-ordered turkey. Fortunately, it is a more sensible/manageable size, so we should be spared the chore of munching our way through turkey stew, turkey curry, and turkey sandwiches, and we’ve cut down as well on the number of nibbles, both sweet and savoury.  A nice spread of cheese, to go with the unopened bottle of port, left over from last year, the odd mince pie or three, and I shall be well away, not forgetting the odd glass or three of beer.

That 5-litre mini keg of Harvey’s Old I bought the other week, remains unopened, although I shall probably crack it open, later this evening. I’m imaging son Matthew will be contributing to the alcoholic fug with a few bottles from Armstrong’s in East Grinstead. The latter is that rarity, an independently owned off-licence that stocks some interesting Belgian beers, along with a healthy range of Samuel Smith’s bottles. Matthew’s girlfriend Charlotte will be joining us for Christmas dinner, along with her pet hound, so with four of us sat round the table, plus pooch underneath, in our recently renovated kitchen, it promises to be an enjoyable afternoon.

Apart from that, we haven’ go any real plans, apart from chilling out for a couple of days, before embarking on a major blitz to rid ourselves of some of the junk/detritus that has accumulated over the past three decades. We’re also contemplating a drive down to the coast, with Folkestone and its revamped “Harbour Arm” likely to top the bill. The Pilot, at Dungeness, and its renowned fish and chips is another possibility, alongside a visit to Rye. As several other bloggers are discovering, this corner of Kent, bordering on Sussex, is full of beery, culinary and visual delights.

A few days ago, last Sunday to be precise, along with quite a few other neighbours who live in our quiet, and tucked away road, we were invited to join a family who usually throw their house open for, as the invite says, mulled wine, mince pies and homemade sausage rolls. I appreciate that it sounds terribly pretentious and oh so middle class, but the host family are good company, and the welcoming and relaxing atmosphere that normally goes with these gatherings, helps promote a sense of community and good neighbourliness, something we could all do with in these slightly crazy times. Many people in the street have lived there a long time (30 years in our case, and quite a few, even longer), and the sense of community, shared values, plus general well-being, is something you can’t really put a price on.

Right, let’s not get too carried away, as there are plenty of other, more projects, and happenings to get stuck in and look forward to.  Mrs PBT’s and I have pushed the boat out, quite literally, by booking yet another cruise. This 16-day voyage to Norway will follow the Norwegian coastline as far north as Tromsø, calling in at several other settlements such as Narvik, Alesund, Alta and Trondheim. We’ll be setting sail in mid-March, a time of year when the Northern Lights are more likely to make an appearance.

There was another, more practical reason for choosing that time of year, which involved the company’s “use it or lose it” annual leave policy, which limits the number of unused leave days that can be carried over to the following financial year. We’d originally looked again, at Cunard, but their Norwegian cruise was fully booked, which is where, the smaller, independent operator Ambassador came up trumps. Significantly cheaper than Cunard, and sailing with smaller, and more personal ships, a couple we met on our most recent cruise, were full of praise for the smaller outfit, so we went ahead and booked. We obtained a good deal, and as another bonus, Ambassador operate out of Tilbury, a short distance the other side of the Dartford Crossing, and just 30 minutes’ drive from Bailey Towers, on a good day.

So, there’s plenty to look forward to, once Christmas and New Year are out of the way. I’m also determined to get a bit more walking in, during 2026, and having bought a guidebook to walking the rivers Darent, Medway and Eden, I’m determined to complete at least one of the river walks, detailed in the guide. Finally, if I don’t manage to squeeze out another post this side of Christmas, I’d like to extend compliments of the season to each and every one of my readers, and thank you all for your support and encouragement, throughout the year.

Computer says "No"

It’s been a couple of rather frustrating days, due to difficulties accessing my most frequently used email account. Fortunately, it isn’t the account I use for really important stuff, and it’s not the one I use for the blog, either. Blogger has its own, user-friendly platform that you can type straight into, but after having lost several posts, back in the early days of the blog, I instead type up the text in Word- built in spell-checker, plus a programme that saves as you type. I then copy and paste the whole thing in via the Blogger Dashboard.

The frustrating thing with not being able to access one’s account, is having to change the password, each time, and earlier this evening I had to change it twice. Perhaps I didn’t allow enough time between changes – who knows, but being an inquisitive type, I resorted to asking Copilot. I didn’t expect quite as much chapter and verse, but this is what the much-vaunted AI came up with.

 Guidance for Resolving Problems Accessing Your Email Accounts

Introduction

Many people experience difficulties when trying to access their email accounts. These issues can arise from a variety of sources, including forgotten passwords, technical glitches, or security measures. This guide provides step-by-step advice to help you regain access to your email accounts.

Common Reasons for Access Issues

• Incorrect Password or Username: You may have entered your credentials incorrectly.
• Account Locked or Suspended: Multiple failed login attempts can result in a temporary lock-out.
• Forgotten Password: It's easy to forget passwords, especially if you have multiple accounts.
• Two-Factor Authentication (2FA) Problems: Issues with receiving codes or using authenticator apps.
• Connectivity Issues: Poor internet connection may prevent you from accessing your account.
• Browser or App Problems: Outdated browsers or apps may not work properly with email services.
• Security Compromises: Your account may have been compromised and temporarily disabled for protection. 

  Ensure you are using the correct email address and password.

1. Check for accidental use of CAPS LOCK or incorrect keyboard layout.
2. Use the "Forgot Password" link on the login page.
3. Follow the steps to reset your password via your recovery email or phone number.
4. Ensure you are connected to the internet.
5. Try accessing your email from a different device or network.
6. Ensure your web browser or email app is up to date.
7. Clear your browser cache and cookies, then restart the browser.
8. Check your device for 2FA codes.
9. If you cannot access your 2FA method, use backup codes or contact support.
10. Watch for messages about your account being locked or suspended.
11. Follow the instructions provided to regain access.
12. If none of the above steps work, visit your email provider’s help centre.
13. Provide as much information as possible to verify your identity.

Additional Tips

• Use a password manager to keep track of your passwords securely.
• Regularly update your recovery information (phone number and alternate email).
• Be cautious of phishing emails and scams that attempt to steal your login details.
• Periodically review your account’s security settings.

Conclusion

While it can be frustrating to lose access to your email account, following these steps should help you identify and resolve the problem. For persistent issues, contacting your email provider’s support team is the best course of action.

I don't think the problem I had, was due to any of the above, especially as most of the suggestions AI came up with were blindingly obvious. But whatever the cause, it does demonstrate just how reliant we all are when it comes to communicating electronically, and just how vulnerable we all are when something goes wrong!

ps. Normal service will be resumed over the next day, or so, as there's lots of beer, pubs and upcoming travel experiences for me to write about, as well as my review of the year. All, far more interesting than my technology problems. 

 

 

A rare foray into clubland

A couple of weeks ago, I made a brief and, for me, extremely rare foray into the world of clubland. Those who know me will be aware of my disdain of clubs, as there is something about these places that has never appealed to me. Clubs may well be places where cheap beer is available, but they often come across as soulless places, seemingly lacking atmosphere. And yet, whilst putting this article together, I was reminded that early on in my drinking career, myself, plus a handful of sixth form pals, were regular users of a club, on the outskirts of Ashford – the town where I grew up and went to school.

I have my school friend Roy, to thank for this early association with working man’s clubs, and he was also the same individual responsible for introducing me to beer in general, and to many of Ashford’s public houses. Another former school friend was responsible for familiarising me with a large number of rural pubs, mainly to the east of Ashford and down onto Romney Marsh. This was down to the fact that we both had motor-scooters, and enjoyed heading out into the Kent countryside, exploring the many pubs in the surrounding villages, under the pretext of enjoying a game of “arrows”.

That’s a story for another time, and for now, it’s back to clubland, and specifically the club house of Houchin Aerospace, a company which manufactured parts for the aviation industry. Houchin closed in 2014, with the loss of 47 jobs, but for 70 years, their factory on the edge of Ashford had been a successful enterprise, and a major employer in the town. Roy’s mother worked for the company, and I believe his sister did as well, and it was through their connections, that us sixth former's were able to use the club.

Before going any further, a quick word about clubs and their origins in the industrial heartlands of the North of England, the Midlands and South Wales. As institutions, Working Men’s Social Clubs came into being at the tail end of the 19^th century, by and for working class people in industrial areas. The very first social club was founded in Reddish, Greater Manchester, to give workers a place to relax. As well as the sale of alcohol, food was often provided, along with games such as pool, snooker and darts. In their heyday of the 1970s, there were some 4,000 working men’s clubs in operation across Britain, providing space to congregate, communicate, celebrate and, of course, to drink beer.

WMC’s remain fixtures in local communities, more than 120 years after their foundation and are run in much the same way as they always have been. Most are affiliates of the Working Men’s Club & Institute Union or CIU, although nowadays that reference to working men has been dropped. At the current count there are 2,200 registered social clubs within the CIU, with numbers still biased towards the North and the Midlands. Working men's clubs are run by their members through a committee, usually elected annually, with each club having its own set of rules, that include the payment of an annual subscription.

Whilst anyone can join a WMC, there is still a process that prospective members must apply through, before full membership is granted. This usually involves filling out a membership form, which will then have to be seconded by two members who know and can vouch for you. Your application will then be put before the Club committee and an interview held with you. The committee can, if necessary, discipline members (common punishments being a warning, or a ban for a period) for violations. Non-members are not allowed entry unless signed in by a member. I don’t recall having to do any of these things, back in the early 70’s, although with our school friend as a fully paid-up member, and us as quite free-spending individuals, I don’t think anyone was particularly concerned.

Life moves on, and in the autumn of 1973, our quite tightly, close-knit group of friends went our own separate ways. A small number remained in Ashford, having already gained regular employment, one joined the British Airways Flight Training School, at Hamble (somewhere in Hampshire, I believe), and eventually passed out as an airline pilot, but most of us went to university, in various cities and towns, scattered across the UK. We never really got back together as a group, and I’m fairly certain that with one possible exception, none of us set foot inside the Houchins’ club again.

I was much more interested in pubs when I returned to Kent for the Christmas, Easter and summer breaks, and had also developed a growing interest in cask beer – or Real Ale. Cask was a real rarity in clubs, and whilst it was still clinging on in many pubs, especially some of the smaller and more rural ones, it was viewed as having had its day. As we know, events proved otherwise, as CAMRA’s well-thought-out, and highly effective campaign, not only managed to stem cask’s decline, but set the scene for a spectacular turn around in its fortunes.

When I returned to live in Kent, back in the late 1970’s, real ale was quite readily available, at least in local pubs. Clubs were a different matter, not that I knew of any, and it wasn’t until I settled in Tonbridge, half a decade later, that clubs once again, re-entered my consciousness. As well as an being home to an important railway junction Tonbridge was also a “print” town, with two large printing works and associated publishers, based in the town. Whitefriars’ Press were one such company and had their own WMC – the Whitefriars’s Press Club. Their spacious premises, close to the station, are no more, having gone the same way as the printing company itself, but there were still several other WMC’s based in the town.

Over the years, I must have visited most these establishments, mainly for social events, either work or family occasions, and these included Tonbridge Working Men’s Club, Constitutional Club, Royal British Legion Club along with the aforementioned Whitefriars’ Club. None of these establishments stocked cask and therefore were of little interest to me. Things slowly changed, but not as quickly as us cask lovers would have liked, and not long after the demise of the Whitefriars, the same fate befell the Working Men’s Club. There were a few bright spots along the way with several, relatively nearby clubs not just stocking the odd cask beer, bur majoring in it as well. Locally we have Tunbridge Wells Constitutional Club, and Marden Social Club, but a little further away is the Dartford Working Man’s Club, an establishment that has since become a bastion of real ale.

To bring the story up to date, a couple of weeks ago, Mrs PBT’s and I attended a family function at the Cinque Ports Club in Uckfield. Over the course of the past 3-4 years, this mid-Sussex town has become home to Eileen’s sister, plus her niece with her own extended family. This was why, on one of the wettest Sundays in a long time, that we found ourselves, at this extensive and rather rambling club, slap bang in the middle of Uckfield. When Mrs PBT’s and I turned up, looking like a couple of drowned rats, we had to be signed in, in true club fashion, but despite my initial reservations, my spirits were raised by the sight of a bank of three hand pulls on the bar, dispensing a range of Harvey’s beers (Best Bitter, Old Ale & Mild.)

The Cinque Ports Club began life as the Commercial Hotel and then the King’s Head, before later becoming a social club.  As hinted at earlier, it is quite a rambling building, with an older, inner core and a couple of more recent additions. Like most other clubs, the Cinque Ports is owned by its members and run for its members, and as well as the aforementioned, well-stocked bar, the Club provides regular live entertainment and social activities. Membership is £15 per Annum with a £10 joining fee. Over 1800 members enjoy facilities including a large function room suitable for up to 200 people, a stage, large projector screen for TV and presentations and round banqueting tables. The main bar area has three seating areas, fruit machines, three plasma screens for live sports, a pool room, plus a digital juke box updated weekly with the latest music. For the more traditional minded, there are two darts boards, plus a pool table. 

If I lived where Eileen’s sister lives, (just 15 minutes’ walk away), then I’d almost certainly become a club, as the well-kept Harvey’s alone would be the deal-maker. Clubs have certainly come on a lot since the days when my school chums and I would spend evenings drinking fizzy Courage, keg beers, in the somewhat basic surroundings of the Houchin Sports & Social Club. I make that final statement guardedly, because the UK's public houses, will always hold a special place in my heart, and that's because as the name suggests, pubs are open to everyone regardless of gender, race or religion and, most importantly, with no membership requirements either. 

 

The firm's Christmas bash, December 2025

Last Friday evening saw me heading over to Tunbridge Wells, for my company’s Christmas party. I’ve kept the identity of the venue quiet, until now, partially as a bit of a tease, but mainly because I wanted to experience the place myself, before reporting back. Tunbridge Wells is a 10-minute train ride away from Tonbridge, and despite being the larger to the two towns, TW is not as well served by rail links to other parts of the country, as its older and more historic counterpart.

Although my train departed Tonbridge on time, we were held up by a red signal at Somerhill tunnel, one of several single-track tunnels on this line which runs between Tonbridge and Hastings. There is a reason for single track working, which dated back to a number of fraudulent cost-cutting scams that took place, during construction of the line. I won’t go into details here, as I know not all readers of this blog are train buffs, but if you want to know more, then by all means,  click on this link.

Despite my late running train, I was still 20 minutes or so in advance of the 6pm kick-off so, to kill a bit of time, I called in at the recently renovated Bedford Arms, opposite the railway station.  I found to my cost that this traditional stop-off for home-coming commuters, had been changed into an establishment catering exclusively for the 18-30 crowd, although looking around, the clientele seemed almost exclusively male. 

So, plenty (too much) of testosterone floating around, but much worse than that, a video juke box set to maximum level, where you could feel the bass notes and drumbeats come crashing into your chest, whilst your ear drums were rapidly atrophying. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been to some pretty loud rock concerts in my youth, including The Who and Led Zeppelin, but they were in a different league, and context, in the setting of two large stadiums, rather than that of a relatively small, town local. The Pig & Porter Apparition Stout was in good form, and I learned from the local CAMRA WhatsApp group, that the pub is quieter at lunchtimes, but my advice would be to go elsewhere if you want to enjoy a quiet pint in Tunbridge Wells.

So now for the main event, which took place at the White Bear, situated just a short stroll from the station in the heart of Tunbridge Wells and a stone’s throw from the Pantiles. Described as a stylish tavern with a sun-room terrace, the White Bear re-opened under its original name, following extensive renovations by Young & Co. I said, “original name”, because when I first knew the pub, it was called the White Bear. Whitbread, its owner at the time, closed the pub in 1985, but three years later, it re-opened as “Ruperts”. Soon after, it changed its name and layout, to “Bar Zia”. This in turn closed, and in 2007 it reopened as the "Tunbridge Wells Bar and Grill."

Pub and hotel company, plus renowned former brewery, Young's, bought the site in 2019 and took it back to its roots by renaming it the "White Bear." Prior to reopening, Young’s sent out a press release, stating, "Our understanding is that this pub was hugely popular in its original incarnation, and we hope to welcome back all the locals." The release went on to say that "The venue has been restored to its former glory by Young’s and has reopened as a quintessentially British yet modern pub under its original name.”

It was therefore with some trepidation that I entered the White Bear for the first time in 40 years. My initial observations were that the place was heaving – hardly surprising for a Friday night during h run-up to Christmas. The other observations that the interior was much larger than the one I remember, but as everything looked so different, it wasn’t an easy comparison to make. I’d already met up with a few of my colleagues outside the bar, so when the boss turned up, armed with the company credit card, we all ordered ourselves the first of many drinks of the evening.

Beer-wise, there were three hand pumps serving cask ales, but with the pump-clip for TT’s Landlord turned round, it was a choice between Young’s London Original, and Harvey’s Sussex Best. With the contract-brewed Young’s a travesty of what was once one of the finest beers in the land, it was a no-brainer for me to opt for Harvey’s. It was in good form too, but don’t ask me how I scored it, because I’ve more or less given up on beer scores. Having obtained our drinks, one of the bar staff conducted us round to an open plan area at the rear of the building, that had been allocated to our party. This area was set at a lower level, and was more or less self-contained, but in order to do justice to the pub, I’d need to return during, the hours of daylight, and at a time when the place is far less busy. Other colleagues started to drift in, and whilst not a full house, our contingent still managed to occupy four tables.

People’s food choices had been ordered several weeks in advance, and when the grub turned up it was tasty and well-presented. My main course of Pan-Fried Seabream, with creamed celeriac, Brussel tops, and samphire, whilst flavoursome and cooked to perfection, was missing something to soak up the creamy sauce, because there wasn’t a lot of substance to the creamed celeriac. Fortunately, I managed to procure some bread for a colleague and myself. Christmas pudding with cream and brandy sauce made a good desert, and by way of accompaniment, a nice glass of Port fitted the bill.

That was my only “exotic” drink of the evening, as I stuck to the Harvey’s for the rest of the time, but I did observe quite a few cocktails being ordered, mainly by the ladies – and I’m not being sexist here, at all. There was a time, when drinks at the staff Christmas bash were limited to beer, cider or wine, with spirits and/or exotic cocktails ruled out. We’ve got a new accountant, these days, as well as a new General Manager, and both seem rather more lenient (if that’s the right word), than their predecessors. All the same, I’ve noticed over many years, that many people go a little over the top with their drinks order, when there’s a “free” bar.

That aside, it was a most enjoyable evening, with good food, and good company, providing a real chance for staff to let their hair down, after what has been quite a tough year. I wasn’t too late in leaving, as I was offered a lift back to Tonbridge by our Office Supervisor, who’d been tasked with looking after a couple of Japanese colleagues. They were in the UK for a short “exchange” visit, which included an invitation to the Christmas party. They were staying in Tonbridge, at the Rose & Crown, and I’m not sure whether my colleague wanted directions, or just some companionship during the drive back, but whatever the case I was glad of a ride home to Tonbridge.

Somehow, we all managed to squeeze into her car, although as I was sitting in the front, I had plenty of leg room! The visitors were dropped off at the Rose & Crown, and it was good to see this imposing and historic, old coaching inn back in favour, with visitors from head office. Incidentally, I’d called in at this historic old inn, the day before, primarily to see what the place is like now, after having lost our custom, for several years to the two, local Premier Inns. My verdict was the Rose & Crown was fine, and from the feedback I heard from the visitors, they enjoyed their stay there too.