Eridge to Groombridge - the penultimate section of the Tunbridge Wells Circular Walk

It’s been over two months since my last cross-country ramble, and to say I was getting itchy feet would be an understatement. Incessant rain and waterlogged fields, both of which would have made cross-country walking perhaps not quite impossible, but certainly down right miserable, finally came to an end as the calendar changed into April. So last Friday, after a week and a half of dry weather, it was finally time to dust off my trusty walking boots, wrap up warm and head off out, back on the trail.

The trail concerned is the Tunbridge Wells Circular Walk (TWCW), a 26-mile footpath encompassing this attractive Kenish town, that I’ve been trying to complete for over a year. It’s a trail I’d been keen on walking ever since I first heard about it from a friend, but just over two years ago, whilst enjoying a quiet pint at Larkin’s Ale House, in Cranbrook, I came across a guidebook to this circular walk. Liking what I saw, I purchased a copy with the intention of completing this walk, but not before finishing the North Downs Way.

That’s a story for another day, although to set the record straight, I finished that particular Long-Distance Footpath in October 2022. It wasn’t long after, that the weather changed for the worse, following the onset of winter. This meant postponing my attempt at the TWCW until February 2023, when I walked slightly under half of the Southborough to Pembury section of the trail. Between then, and now I completed the latter section, followed by Pembury to Frant, and then Frant to Eridge.

That latter walk took place 10 weeks ago, but further progress was stalled by two months of persistent rain which meant February and March were complete washouts. Last Friday, I picked up, from where I left off back at the start of February, by taking the No. 29 bus to Eridge Green, crossing busy A26 road, before passing the churchyard and continuing along a track to Eridge Rocks. My aim was to walk the three and a half odd miles from Eridge to Groombridge, passing on the way the impressive rocky outcrops that make up Harrison’s Rocks. Despite a much-needed dry spell at the start of April, the weather again took a turn for the worse, with several heavy downpours, mid-afternoon.

The rain occurred at the worst possible time imaginable, with the heavens opening whilst I was a third of the way across a rather large, and very open field, with nothing at all in the way of shelter. I could see the rain saturated clouds blowing across the unprotected field in waves, but with no shelter I had to just keep going. The new hat which Mrs PBT’s bought for me, kept the rain off my head, whilst the three-quarter length coat, meant most of my upper body remained dry.

I crossed the stream at bottom of field, and then continued uphill, before reaching a metalled road which took me past some rather attractive looking properties. The track then veered away to the left and downhill past the intriguingly named Pinstraw Farm, before emerging through the trees at nearby Forge Farm, into an open meadow with the Spa Valley Railway Line to the left, and the start of the ridge formed by Harrison’s Rocks to the right. These tall, impressive sandstone outcrops extend a long way following the line of the valley and are surprisingly high in places. They are popular with both novice rock scramblers, and more experienced mountaineers, including well-known climbers, such as Chris Bonningon.

The path followed the lien of the railway for some distance, before veering of to the right and into Birchden Wood. I hadn’t seen a single soul until I reached the nearby car park and toilet area, so after making use of the facilities there I headed off on the final stage of that part of the walk. Unfortunately, this turned out to be the muddiest stretch of the entire walk, as it followed a narrow path, hemmed in by a field of horses on one side, plus a row of back gardens on the other. By the time I reached the end, where the path crossed over a railway junction, my boots were caked in mud, which was especially annoying, seeing as I’d managed to avoid any mud up until that part of the walk.

Away to my right I could see Groombridge station, whilst to my left was Birchden Junction, where the line towards London once deviated away from the tracks down towards Eridge, Lewes and the south coast. It was sheer folly closing these rail-lines, particularly as they provided useful diversionary routes away from the London-Brighton mainline, but this country is infamous for poor choices and short-term decisions that made little sense at the time, and even less looking back.

I’d reached Groombridge by this point and discovered that it’s a much larger village than I realised. My plan had been t call in for a quick and well-earned pint at the Junction Inn, one of two pubs in a village which is divided unequally between Kent and Sussex. For the record, the smallest, and oldest part of Groombridge is located on the Kent side of the river Grom, and the picturesque, 16^th Century, Crown Inn, overlooking the green, is the better-known pub.

The 19^th Century Junction Inn, on the Sussex side, is more functional, and down to earth, and as it is many years since my last visit there, I was keen to pop inside and take a look. Unfortunately, I took a wrong turning and found myself heading down towards the busy B2110 Tunbridge Wells-East Grinstead road. So, with a bus due in 15 minutes, and with an hour’s wait until the next one, I headed for the nearby bus shelter to await the arrival of the 291 bus. 

Arriving back in Tunbridge Wells, at the top of the town, I dived into Fuggles where I enjoyed a very tasty and well-deserved pint of Gadd’s HPA. I exchanged a few pleasantries with Fuggles owner, Alex Grieg, before spotting Clive and Martin, two friends from CAMRA. I joined them for a pint plus a catch-up chat, that was inevitably about walking, but whilst I was tempted to stay for another, I thought it was time to be getting home, and grab a bite to eat as well. 

There is now just one section of the TWCW left to do, and that is the six mile stretch between Groombridge and Southborough. Weather and other commitments permitting, I aim to knock this section on the head, sooner rather than later. To be continued……………………..

 

Another brewery sadly bows out

So, just a couple of posts after my disclosure that I wasn’t a massive fan of Cellar Head beers, news broke that the company, had ceased trading, with immediate effect, and would be going into administration. Founders Chris & Julia McKenzie posted the news on social media, thanking their team, their supporters and everyone who, over the years, had bought a pint of Cellar Head over the years, or spent time with the team at the brewery tap room.

According to the statement the pair put out, they had spent time over the past few weeks trying to find a buyer for the business, but whilst there had been plenty of interest, no one willing to take the risk necessary to move the business on to the next chapter, could be found. This means Cellar Head, now join the growing band of small, independent brewers that have hit the buffers in recent months, blaming the financial climate, vastly increased production costs, plus a market that was already struggling.

It's always sad when a business goes under and whilst Cellar Head beers never really did it for me, I know that they did for numerous others. The company was founded in 2017, and seemed to hit the ground running, as suddenly their beers seemed to be everywhere, along with their distinctive logo of a ZZ Top look-alike, cool dude. Cellar Head cask beers are un-fined, which means they carry a natural haze and are also vegan-friendly. In addition, they do not filter or pasteurise their bottled beers and neither do they artificially carbonate them. Instead, they undergo a natural secondary fermentation in the bottle which, they claim, results in a gentle, light fizz which gives a more refined texture and mouthfeel.

In 2019, Cellar Head moved to new premises at Flimwell, on the Kent- Sussex border, and in April of that year I visited them in their new home, with a party from West Kent CAMRA. We were on our way back from a visit to Harvey’s brewery in Lewes, and the tour organiser thought it a good idea to call in at Cellar Head as well. The brewery was holding an open day, a function they used to hold once a month. Having just visited Harvey's, I was a little bit beered-up to fully appreciate what Cellar Head had on offer that day, but as  I wrote at the time, the rural setting of their brewery, and the family audience they attracted, reminded me of the visit I made the year before, to the Vanish Woods Brewery in rural Virginia, USA.

During 2023 the number of UK breweries going bust, tripled compared to the year before, as consumers looked for cheaper due to the cost-of-living crisis. This combined, with rising overheads, has led to a wave of insolvencies, and the trend looks likely to continue as we move into the second quarter of 2024. The craft beer market, in particular, has become heavily overpopulated over the past decade, and many of these brewers find themselves fighting for a place in a shrinking market.

I know that I am not the only industry observer who thinks that the number of new cask ale and craft beer brewers is unsustainable, and yet despite all the warnings new start-ups continue coming out of the woodwork. The rate of new brewery openings does seem to be tailing off, but despite this CAMRA continues its unqualified support, by loudly cheering on each new start up.

I haven’t got time today, but when I’m a little less rushed, there are a couple of stories I could tell of ill-advised start-ups, and of well-meaning advice ignored, all for it to end in tears. In the meantime, lovers of Cellar Head beers will have to look for a substitute tipple, although with at least two new breweries that have come on the scene locally, during the past year, they won’t have to look very far.

 

There's an old mill by the stream

Friday was the first day of March and also the first day of spring, but the weather was anything but spring like with heavy torrential rain, driven by a strong and very biting north westerly wind. March can often be a very changeable month, and an old saying claims that March comes roaring in like a lion, and goes out meekly like a lamb, or the other way around. In my experience, it is pretty rare for the third month of the year to come creeping in softly, lamb-like or not, and I’m not sure either, about going out with the noise of a fierce, roaring lion!

So, with Friday’s weather, doing its best make the day a complete washout, and Mrs PBT’s not keen on going out anywhere, I decided no matter what was happening in the stratosphere, I was going to go out to explore somewhere a bit different. My plan was to take the bus over from Tunbridge Wells to East Grinstead, which is the town where son Matthew is employed. I have obviously been there several times in the past, but it would be good to have a closer look around, visit a couple of pubs, and maybe enjoy a spot of light lunch. I could then cadge a lift home from my son after he had finished his shift.

So far so good, and Matthew knew to expect me some time in the afternoon. He reckoned he would finish around about 3:00 pm which would be ideal, so imagine my frustration when I received a text message from him asking what time would I be over, as he would be finishing at 1:00 pm. Kids, who said they get easier, once they’re grown up? I was still waiting at the bus stop in Tonbridge when the call came through, and my arrival time in East Grinstead depended on connecting services from Tunbridge Wells. There are three buses every hour, over from Tonbridge, but it is an hourly service only, between the Wells and East Grinstead.

Fortunately, I was in time for the 10:52 am 291 Metrobus service from Tunbridge Wells and reached my destination at 11:45 am. That allowed time for at least one pub visit, and as my chosen pub was a 20-minute walk from the town centre, I would reach the 15^th Century, Old Dunnings Mill, just after opening time. The semi-derelict Dunnings Mill was rescued by a local entrepreneur and converted into a pub in 1970 and has been adapted and extended over the years into a cosy and welcoming pub.

Today the Old Mill is owned by Harvey’s of Lewes, but I do recall a visit there, at sometime in the dim and distant past, when the bar was at set a much lower level, and the pub itself was much smaller in size. After following a road leading off from the High Street, and heading downhill for some considerable distance, I reached the area of East Grinstead known as Dunnings. I was surprised at just how hilly the town is, given its situation on the edge of Ashdown Forest, it is not really surprising. 

The pub straddles one of the Wealden tributaries of the River Medway and is now something of a show pub for Harvey’s.  I entered via the extensive car park at the rear, without recognising anything from my previous visit, and stepped into a large bar with dining area. The latter was already occupied with diners of pensionable age, whilst the lengthy bar counter boasted two banks of hand-pumps, dispensing a broad selection of Harvey’s cask ales.

My eye went straight to the pump with the Old Ale clip on it, but also available were Best Bitter, Kiss (Valentine’s seasonal), plus Dunnings Mill IPA which is basically a rebadge of Harvey's standard IPA. It will be no surprise to learn that I went straight for the dark stuff, as XXXX Old Ale really is one of my favourite winter ales. Cool, dark, and delicious – well-conditioned as well, but I did detect a slight hint of staleness lurking in the background. I suspect I had received the first pint out of the pump that session, but despite this slight defect, it was still a fine, and very welcome drop of Old Ale. Just as I contemplated another pint, a message came through from Matthew, asking if I had arrived yet. Replying with an affirmative and explaining where I was and how long it would take me to walk back, we decided to meet outside his shop, so bang went the chance of another beer, along with the possibility of something to eat.

That was just as well really, as with a couple of large parties seated in the adjoining dining room, there would have been a lengthy wait for food, so reluctantly I finished my beer, returned the glass to the bar, and thanked the bar staff for my brief, but pleasant stay. On the way out, I had a look at the raging torrent that runs beneath the pub. During its time as a mill, the stream powered a rotating water wheel, and whilst a replica has now replaced the original you could still get an idea of how the old mill operated.

I left the pub, and headed back up the hill, into the centre of East Grinstead. There is a bus that operates the route from Dunnings, but it only runs on a two hourly basis. Matthew was waiting for me when I arrived at his shop in London Road. We went inside and I was introduced to Matt’s boss, who seemed pleasant enough. 

Afterwards, we called in at local independent off-licence Armstrong’s, where I bought a selection of five different dark, bottled beers – mainly from Sam Smith’s. Humphrey’s policy is to only supply independent retailers, so you won’t see his beers in supermarkets, or even chain-type, convenience stores, such as Londis or One-Stop. We then headed for home. I was unable to persuade Matthew to stop for a pint on the way home – I, don’t know, the youth of today, eh!

 

Frant & Eridge - two Sussex villages and their pubs, share a common heritage

After escaping from the field and its flock of sinister-looking sheep, that seemed intent on preventing me from finishing last Saturday’s walk, I reached the busy, A26 main road and continued north for a couple of hundred yards. This brought me to the Nevill Crest & Gun, an attractive pub with over 500 years of history.  Set back from the road, and close to the entrance of Eridge Park Estate, the Nevill was the place where I could rest for a while, take the weight off my feet, and relax, over a pint or two of beer.

The intriguing name of the pub relates to its connection with the nearby Eridge Park Estate, home to the Nevill family since 1448. The “Nevill Crest” refers quite literally to the crest of the Nevill family, and it is their coat of arms that adorns the pub and many other buildings in the surrounding area. The “Gun” part of the name arose from a forge on the estate which produced cannons and cannon balls. At one time an ancient cannon, made of strips of metal held together with hoops, was fired on fair days or other days of celebration, and it is this Gun that is referred to in the pub name.  

Eridge Park has been the home of the Nevill family since they inherited the house and estate in 1448. The Nevills were also granted the title of Earls of Abergavenny, and this is reflected by the name of the pub in the nearby village of Frant. I started my walk, last Saturday from the Abergavenny Arms, so it is worth taking a look at this hostelry first, before moving on to the Nevill Crest & Gun. The Abergavenny is an attractive, former coaching inn, which occupies a prominent position overlooking the main A267 Tunbridge Wells- Eastbourne road. The part tile-hung building dates back to the 15^th Century, and the age of the building is immediately apparent when you step inside. There are two large, heavily beamed rooms, one of which acts as a restaurant-cum-function room. Both areas are served from a large and well-appointed bar, and as I discovered last weekend, this is the beating hear of the pub.

I entered via the side door, as this was the closest entrance to the bus stop, passing the restaurant on my way to the bar. There were a number of barflies sat at the counter, although there was still room for me to be served. Harvey’s Best was the sole cask beer on sale, but it was in excellent form. The elderly male clique at the bar appeared totally unaware of my presence, although the barmaid was friendly, as was the lone female, perched on a stool, away from the old duffers, but as she seemed engrossed in a book, our conversation was largely to the antics of the pub dog, who was alternating between the log fire, and the possibility of treats at the bar.

If anything, the place embodied middle England on a Saturday lunchtime, where the male customers come to get away from their significant others. As for the girl, I got the impression she was waiting for someone, and was reading a book so as not to feel out of place. The Abergavenny is primarily a diners’ pub, although as witnessed, it does cater for drinkers in the area around the bar.

The villages of Frant and Eridge, both lie beyond the southern fringes of Tunbridge Wells, with the former situated on the A276 road which runs towards Eastbourne, and the latter lying on the A26, which leads down to Lewes, the county town of East Sussex. The villages, and their pubs, are connected by a short section of the Tunbridge Wells Circular Walk, and this was the rather muddy hike reported on in the post before last.

Returning to the Nevill Crest & Gun, this 500-year-old listed building was once part of the aforementioned Eridge Park Estate. Today the pub is part of the Brunning & Price chain and NOT, as stated incorrectly in my post of September 2020, a Whiting & Hammond establishment. For the record, the latter are a small, local chain of pubs, operated along similar lines to B&P, although it is quite easy to confuse the two. The Little Brown Jug, just a short distance away from my workplace in Chiddingstone Causeway, is a Whiting & Hammond pub, as is the Chaser Inn, at Shipbourne, to the north of Tonbridge.

The Nevill Crest and Gun has an interior on two slightly different levels. There are plenty of old beams, as might be expected in a building of this age, whilst at the rear of the pub, a lighter garden room, overlooking the lawns, is popular in summer. In early February, the open log fires were of much more interest to me than the garden, and they helped add to the atmosphere of this lovely old pub.

One feature I was glad about was the flooring of bare brick and exposed wooden boards, especially in view of my muddy walking boots. I took the precaution of placing those disposable over shoes (the type you see in clean room areas) on my footwear, but I still felt a little self-conscious sliding around with these bright-blue coverings over my hiking boots but wearing them was a darn sight easier than having to completely remove my tightly laced boots.

As in other B&P pubs, a comprehensive food menu is available along with a selection of cask beers, some of them local. I started off with a pint of Harvey’s Best last Saturday, and it was stunningly good. I scored it at 4.5 on Untappd. Also available was Volks ESB from 360° Brewery, a Coffee Stout collaboration beer between Vocation and Adnam’s, plus the “House” B&P Best Biter, brewed by St Austell. I risked a half of the Coffee Stout and was glad it wasn’t a pint. There was nothing wrong with the beer, it just wasn’t to my taste.

There was a nice Saturday afternoon atmosphere in the Nevill, during the duration of my visit. A couple sitting at the bar, commented on my choice of Coffee Stout, having tried it for themselves, but with the Harvey’s as good as it was, anything else would have paled into insignificance. The pub seemed dog friendly too, as might be expected in a country pub.

So, two Brunning & Price pubs in less than a week, (remember my meal at the Hare with our Japanese visitors?)  With its rustic feel and attractive rural setting, I found the Nevill far more to my taste, than the Hare. The latter was pleasant enough, even though it reminded me of a posh Edwardian family home, with its impressive mahogany staircase, and collection of comfortably furnished rooms leading off from the central vestibule. The numerous paintings completed the scene if you’ll pardon the pun.   

So, all in all some interesting, and quite contrasting pubs, all contained within a relatively tight geographical area. What will my next pub visit turn up?

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Harvey's Old Ale at last

Seasoned readers of this blog will be well aware of my appreciation of dark ales, especially seasonal ones which make an appearance once a year, usually mid-autumn. These rich dark ales herald the approach of winter, as the days begin to shorten, and the nights start drawing in. They represent the continuation of a centuries old tradition of brewing strong, dark, nutritious, and fortifying ales, designed to see the populace at large through the long, dark, and cold winters.

The beers I am talking about are known as Old or Stock Ales, although the latter name is rarely used today. I don’t want to enter into too much detail, as this post is much more about tracking down and enjoying one of the first old ales of the 2023-24 season.

I am talking about here is XXXX Old Ale produced annually by Sussex brewers, Harvey’s of Lewes. Brewed to a strength of 4.3% abv. It is a rich, dark ale, containing a high percentage of crystal malt and black sugars. The beer is said to be reminiscent of the strong, mild ales, brewed at the beginning of the last century, and its arrival each year, is eagerly awaited by its devotees.

XXXX Old Ale is released to an eager public at the beginning of October, although a handful of pubs are known to start serving it, up to a week before that date. Harvey’s hold an annual “Dancing in the Old” celebration, which begins with a Harvest Thanksgiving, at the Church of St Thomas a Becket, which is close to the brewery, before adjourning to the brewery yard. There, at the stoke of midday, a number of local Morris Dancing sides, literally “Dance in the Old.” Members of the public are then invite to sample the first brew of the new season’s “Old Ale.”

The celebrations end promptly at 1.00 pm, when Harvey’s will announce that this year’s Old Ale is in prime condition and drinking exceptionally well. Despite all the years that I’ve known Harvey’s, I’ve never managed to attend this ceremony, and 2023's was no exception. I did, at least, have a valid excuse this year, as at the beginning of October, Mrs PBT’s and I were in Southampton, and about to board the Queen Victoria, at the start of our Mediterranean cruise. 

What normally follows is I attempt to track down some Old Ale, a task that is not as easy as you might think. Although Harvey’s make the beer available to the free trade, very few publicans seem to stock the beer, so if you really want to sample it, you have to head for a Harvey’s tied house. And that is where the problem lies, because Harvey’s don’t have any pubs in the three main towns of West Kent (Sevenoaks, Tonbridge & Tunbridge Wells). The nearest Harvey’s pubs to Bailey Towers, are the Bricklayers Arms at Chipstead, and the currently closed, Two Brewers at Hadlow. A couple of weeks ago, I noticed on the Real Ale Finder App, that Old Ale was available at the Nelson Arms, in Tonbridge, but it must have sold out pretty quick, as just two days later it was showing as no longer available. 

Plan B was to track it down during over the course of the weekend just gone, and I’m pleased to report that my quest succeeded.  My original intention had been to take the bus to Chipstead, a small village to the north-west of Sevenoaks, and grab a pint or two at the Bricklayers. That plan was scuppered by road works, in Sevenoaks High Street, as Mrs PBT’s and I discovered following a shopping trip to the town, the previous day. So, on Sunday morning I opted for a solution that had been staring me in the face, without me realising it.

A 15-minute train journey, from Tonbridge, saw me alighting at Frant station, just three stops down the line. Frant station lies in the village of Bells Yew Green, a small settlement a couple of miles from Frant itself. 

Slap bang in the middle of BYG is the Brecknock Arms, a small and attractive, late Victorian pub belonging to Harvey’s Brewery. It’s a pub that I’ve known for a long time, and through several changes of landlord, but it’s always been a reliable source of decent pint of Harvey’s, as well as a regular stockist of their seasonal beers.

I walked into the pub, and there on the bar, alongside hand pulls for Harvey’s Best Biter and Mild, was the unmistakable bright red pump clip for Harvey’s Old. So, a month and a half after this seasonal ale made its 2023 appearance, there I was ready to take my first and much anticipated mouthful of this sumptuous old ale, and I’m pleased to report that it didn’t disappoint. Smooth, dark, full-bodied, and very moreish, I enjoyed that pint so much, that I just had to have another (as you do!).

The Brecknock itself was doing a healthy lunchtime trade, serving up Sunday roast dinners to the hungry residents of Bells Yew Green and beyond. I was almost certainly the only customer not eating, but from what I could gather, the pub is popular with drinkers, at other times. It’s a couple of years since my last visit, but the Brecknock seems to have settled down nicely, under the care of its current owners, and long may it continue. Given these credentials, there's every chance I will be returning for another fix of Harvey’s excellent Old Ale.

Will the Harvey's at the Boar's Head, last the weekend?

The Boar’s Head Inn at Eridge, is an unspoilt 17th Century inn, just off the main A26 road, a mile or so to the north of Crowborough. It is a low beamed pub with a cosy interior, featuring two inglenook fireplaces. There is outside seating with good views, although when I called in on Saturday, it wasn’t exactly a day for sitting outside. For those who are hardier than me, it’s worth noting, that to the north of the pub, there is a steep wide valley that is traversed by the A26, where twin streams flow along a valley floor flanked by thickly wooded slopes. The railway  between Ashurst and Crowborough makes its way along this valley before journeying to the end of the line at Uckfield.

So, what was I doing at the Boar’s Head? A pub I’d last visited over 30 years ago, and one that I got to know just a few years after moving to Tonbridge. It was my involvement with the local CAMRA branch, which was then known as Tonbridge & Tunbridge Wells CAMRA that took me to the Boar’s Head, as back then the branch covered a small area of neighbouring East Sussex, that included Crowborough.

I remember the place as an unspoilt old inn that belonged to Whitbread, and as such served a decent drop of Faversham-brewed, Fremlin’s Bitter. A decade or so later, and a change of employer, led to me commuting, by car, every day between Tonbridge and Lewes, so I often drove by on my journey to and from work. I say “often” because sometimes I would take the scenic route across Ashdown Forest, thereby avoiding the traffic bottlenecks of Tunbridge Wells and Crowborough.

I was prompted to make a long overdue visit to the Boar’s Head after driving to Crowborough the day before. Mrs PBT’s, and I had visited a medical centre in the town, in order to obtain our COVID booster vaccinations, but the drive through the town is one we take quite often, as Eileen’s sister, and niece live in nearby Uckfield.  Despite this familiarity, I hadn’t given too much notice to the Boar’s Head as it is now set back from the main A26 road. When I worked in Lewes, work was underway to straighten and widen what was a notorious stretch of road between Eridge and Crowborough, which is why the pub is now, mercifully separated from the A26.

The Boar’s Head is also on the No. 29 bus route between operated by Brighton & Hove Buses, which runs every half-hour on weekdays and Saturdays, between Brighton and Tunbridge Wells. It is a well-used service, and for those with a bus pass, the ideal way to travel between Kent and Sussex. With a bus stop, virtually outside the pub, it’s an ideal way to visit the Boar’s Head, without having to drive. Having clocked the position of the bus stops, on both sides of the road, as we drove passed on Friday, the following day I decided to hop on the bus from Tunbridge Wells and check out the Boar’s Head for myself.

It has to be at least 30 years since I last set foot in the pub, and I’m pleased to report that very little had changed. Arriving shortly after 2 pm, I found the pub pleasantly busy, without being overcrowded. Here were several groups of diners, but also a group of drinkers either propping up the bar or sitting at it. I joined the latter group, as I had no real plans to eat, and faced with a choice of Harvey’s Best or London Pride, I opted for the former.

It cost me a fiver, which seems to be the going rate for Harvey’s, these days. The Lewes-based company have always been a little on the dear side when it comes to the prices of their beers, but given their quality, it’s a price I don’t mind paying. Harvey’s also became the matter of some debate at the bar, as two of the fellas sat there were expressing their concerns that the current cask was unlikely to last the weekend.

According to the two girls behind the bar who, incidentally, were doing a sterling job, the cask of Sussex Best on sale was the LAST ONE. From what I could gather, the pub’s licensees were on holiday, and there had been a mix-up with the order from Harvey’s. The next delivery was scheduled for Tuesday, and at the current rate, what was left in the cellar was unlikely to last until then. One worried drinker questioned how many pints had been sold since the last cask went on sale. One of the girls estimated at least twenty, which begged the question, would the Harvey’s last out until Tuesday? As serial pub explorer, and prolific blogger, Retired Martin would point out, it’s debates such as this one which make pubs such interesting places.

It’s all about the detail, even if that often includes the trivial as well, because at the end of the day whilst such things appear unimportant to the majority of us, to some they represent almost life and death situations. So, as Martin would say, it’s seemingly unimportant incidents like the Harvey’s running out, that make pub going so interesting and enjoyable.

Final point, I was unlucky with the bus timings on Saturday, and after missing one in Tonbridge, right at the start of my journey, the knock-on effect was narrowly missing the No. 29 bus in Tunbridge Wells, as well. The return journey was marred by a late running service, so after making my way to the stop, nearly 10 minutes before the bus was due to arrive, I ended up waiting an additional 15 minutes before it eventually turned up. It wasn’t raining or anything, so wasn’t a huge deal, but it was chilly, and certainly cold enough to remind me that the insulating properties of denim aren’t particularly good!