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……………………..

 

Celebration Day

It was my birthday on Saturday. It wasn't a significant birthday but it's not far off being one, although for the time being at least, that's as far as I’m prepared to go on the subject. The Bailey family decided it would be nice to celebrate the old man’s special day, but where to go? Being the name in the frame, I of course got to choose, but I was determined that we should go somewhere different, and some where we hadn’t been before.

After quite a bit of searching both online and asking around amongst work colleagues, we settled on a pub called the Vineyard at Lamberhurst Down. Nestled in the Kent countryside and close to the vineyards of Lamberhurst, the Vineyard is a cosy country pub, formerly known as the Swan.  It is an attractive pub which dates from the 1700's, and originally started life as three thatched cottages.  Today, the pub is largely given over to dining, but according to What Pub, it retains a comfortable bar area for drinkers.

I didn’t get to see the bar, as after checking in with the front of house, we were immediately shown to our table, located at the rear of the building, and close to a door leading to the outdoor drinking/dining area and terraced garden. It was all very pleasant, with a bright airy feel to the place, but the thing that caught my eye, and kept me entertained was the large pizza oven and pizza preparation station, to the right of out table. I don’t know what you call the person in charge of cooking pizzas, but the chap looking after this side of things, was certainly kept very busy.

I can't remember the last time I visited the Vineyard, and it may even have been back in the day (early 90’s) when I worked in Lamberhurst at Crown Chemicals, a small privately owned pharmaceutical company that specialised in veterinary products. I'm not sure either when or indeed why, the pub changed its name, but today it is one of 15 upmarket family dining outlets, scattered across mid Kent and extending down into East Sussex. The company behind this chain is Elite Pubs, even though not all the group’s outlets started life originally as pubs.

Son Matthew visited another Elite Pub a month or so ago, when he dined out with his cousin and her fiancé at the Lazy Fox, just over the Sussex border, at Mark Cross. He enjoyed his meal but in typical Matthew fashion was very understated about the place, so we didn't get much in the way of feedback about the pub, or the food. However, a colleague with connections to that part of the world, and who has dined several times at the Lazy Fox, thought that the Vineyard would be a good bet, so after running my decision passed Mrs PBT's, I went online and made a reservation.

Yes, I booked a table, and yes, I know that one or two people (mainly one), aren't going to like that, but turning up at Saturday lunchtime on the off chance that the pub “might” have a vacant table was always going to end in disappointment, even more so when the Met Office was promising the first decent spell of weather this spring. Booking online was a lot easier than phoning the pub and waiting for a harassed member of staff to answer, find the diary, and a pen, in order to take down my details. I even received an e-mail confirmation sent to my phone.

We drove over to Lamberhurst, which is a reasonably sized village, which straddles the River Teise. The latter is a tributary of the Medway, and whilst it looks quite benign, it can occasionally flood and burst its banks, during times of heavy rainfall.  Lamberhurst is much quieter now than it was during my days working at Crown Chemicals, and it’s hard to believe that the A21 – the main, London-Hastings trunk road ran through the heart of the village. Fortunately, a newish by-pass runs to the east, and Lamberhurst is now a peaceful settlement, and a pleasant place to live.

When we arrived at the Vineyard, the car park nearest to the pub was already full, and the overspill parking area, which is larger than the main one, was beginning to fill up as well. I doubt we would have secured a table had we not booked one.  Our reservation was for 1 pm and were probably about 10 minutes ahead of that time, so after parking we climbed the steps past a series of attractive looking terraces, overlooking the garden at the rear of the pub, and entered, as described earlier.

Apart from the location, plus the recommendation from colleagues and family members, my main reason for choosing the Vineyard was the homemade pie which featured on the menu. Many readers of this blog will be well aware that I really love a pie, especially a proper homemade one where the meat and the rest of the filling is all encased in pastry. Fortunately, the practice of calling, what is in effect a casserole with a pastry lid, seems to be seems to be waning, and more and more places are going the extra mile and producing proper pies.

The featured pie at the Vineyard, had a filling of gammon, chicken and leeks, and was served with new potatoes, broccoli spears plus green beans all smothered in butter, not especially healthy, but it was a treat a birthday treat. The dish came with a small pot of gravy, but as the veg and the new potatoes tasted so good on their own, I was reluctant to smother them in gravy, although I did put a small dollop on the side of my plate, to soak up the pastry part of the pie.

Drink wise, I knew the pub stocked Harvey’s, so I ordered a pint of Best, and when Matthew was asking about the lagers, I heard the name Curious Brew mentioned. This was confirmed afterwards by a member on the family WhatsApp group, who also claimed the pub sold Cellar Head beers. I mentioned this brewery in a previous post, stating whilst there was nothing wrong with Cellar Head beers, I just wasn't overly keen on them. The Sussex Best was excellent, although as I was driving, I only had the one pint.

After the main course, we decided to push the boat out and go for a dessert.  Eileen and I both went for a election of different-flavoured, Cornish dairy ice creams from Callestick Farm – wherever that is, in Cornwall? Matthew chose sticky toffee pudding. With coffee to follow, it was the perfect birthday blow-out. I also have to say that the service at the Vineyard was exemplary, and the girls who took our order and brought the food over, were pleasant, friendly, well briefed, and a pleasure to engage with.

My only gripe was not getting the chance for a proper look around the pub itself. That wouldn’t have been very practical, given the number of people inside, and it certainly wouldn’t have been appropriate to go round taking photos – something my family like to remind me of, whenever the chance arises. I’m tempted to take a drive over there, during an off-peak moment, and enjoy that more detailed look around.

We drove home, via Tunbridge Wells, taking the B2169 Bayham Road through Hook Green and Bells Yew Green. Both settlements have their own tied Harvey’s pubs, the Elephant’s Head in the first instance, and the Brecknock Arms at the latter. All these places (and pubs), can be reached by bus, as can the Vineyard, so for those with a bus pass, this forms an enjoyable way of spending a day in the attractive, Kent-Sussex border area.

 

 

The Ides of March

As I gazed out over the rain-soaked landscape, last Tuesday, I was left wondering whether it’ would ever stop raining. As we move from winter into early spring, it’s hard to recall a wetter period of weather, even though prolonged spells of wet weather probably aren’t that unusual at this time of year. What’s perhaps more disconcerting, has been the almost total absence of frosts this winter, and whilst some might welcome the relatively mild conditions, give me any day a bright, crisp, and dry morning, even if it does mean having to scrape the car, before leaving for work.

Fruit trees, so I’ve been told, require periods of frost during winter, in order the bear a reasonable crop of fruit - something to do with the tree going into a deep hibernation (if that's possible), before springing back with a flourish with the arrival of spring.  In addition, sub-zero conditions are also the gardener’s friend, as they help break up lumpy soil, as well as killing off numerous garden pests, but this year cold snaps have been few and far between.

For those of us itching to get our hiking boots on and head out into the great outdoors, the current damp conditions are doubly frustrating as because even with
the right footwear and assorted protective rainwear, there’s nothing more soul-destroying than walking through a rain-soaked landscape. I’ve still got a stage and a half of the Tunbridge Wells Circular Walk to complete - Eridge to Groombridge and Groombridge to Southborough, so what ought to be a relatively easy walk to complete, is turning out to be anything but.

What walk next though, the Greensand Ridge, perhaps? It is quite remote in places but passes through some stunning countryside. Unfortunately, it lacks some of the convenient public transport links which characterise the North Downs Way, so there is potential for a few overnight stops, preferably at a location or two where there’s a decent pub. Meanwhile, back to the weather.

Too much persistent rain can also lead to flooding, a situation that none of us wish to see, but one that has become all too common in recent years. It’s noticeable on my commute to and from work when the drive can sometimes be a bit of a nightmare. Whichever route I take involves crossing the river Medway, which is the main channel into which the local streams and ditches discharge their surplus of water. With little respite between weather systems and the ground already saturated from previous heavy rain, it isn’t long before water running of from the fields, starts washing across the roads, and before you know it, they are axle deep in flood water and virtually impassable.

So, what has all this got to do with pubs, beer, and the enjoyment of both? Well, more than you might think. Shops and other retail outlets often report a reduction in footfall during spells of persistent wet weather. The hardware store where son Matthew works certainly does, and I’m sure that pubs are affected in a similar fashion. After all, when the rain is lashing down outside, who wants to step outside and leave the comfort and warmth of their own home?

As the week wore on, there was a gradual improvement in the weather, and by the time Thursday arrived it was quite pleasant. Time for a few cheeky beers you might think, but unfortunately, I’d agreed to sort some stuff out at home, for Mrs PBT’s. We’ve embarked on a joint, sort out- de-cluttering operation that’s been long overdue. She might not thank me for saying so, but my good lady wife is an inveterate hoarder, and now having finally realised the extent of her hanging onto things that really aren’t worth keeping, she’s gone into full-blown clear-out mode.

We’re therefore on a bit of a roll at the moment, and to complicate matters further, I thought it good to get ahead of things on the garden. I managed to get a fair amount of preparatory work done in both garden and greenhouse, during the previous “dry” spell, including digging over what will be my new vegetable patch. I’ve also been attaching some trellis work to the fence, ready to provide support, when needed, for the climbing plants that Mrs PBT’s bought the other week.

There has been something of a lull on the beer front, but if all goes to plan, that should change next week, with that long-postponed visit to the Black Country scheduled for a weeks’ time. That should fulfil a long-cherished ambition to enjoy s few of the area’s finest heritage pubs, as well as renewing my acquaintance with Batham’s and Holden’s fine ales. Both companies are long-established Black Country brewers, whose products seem confined to the local area, and are rarely seen beyond the immediate local area.

As for more local matters, there seems very little happening at the moment, although West Kent CAMRA have two presentations to make this coming Wednesday in relation to this year’s Pub of the Year competition. There are no prizes for guessing the winner and runners up, but as it’s all becoming a little too predictable, I doubt I shall be showing my face. That’s not to take anything away from the worthy winners, but I would rather call in at the pubs in question (they are both in Tonbridge), when things are a little quieter.

Earlier today, Eileen and I took a drive over to the ASDA superstore at King’s Hill (site of the former West Malling airfield). We certainly know how to live, but it was worth it for the new pair of casual, boots I bought, reduced down from £35 to just £16. An absolute bargain, and leather as well. Part of the store’s “George” range, whoever George is - Mrs PBT’s will tell you, as she’s up on such matters, whereas the only things I am concerned about are their comfort and durability, plus, to a point, how they look.

Breakfast tomorrow, and once again a pub will probably be the venue. It’s as though events are starting to answer the question I raised, just three short posts ago. It could be that more and more public houses are waking up to the potential of opening their doors early, especially at weekends. The pub as we know it continues to evolve, and by doing so helps ensure its own survival.

This concludes this rather indulgent set of ramblings, looking back over the first half of March, the first two weeks of spring, no less. I know that some readers enjoy a sprinkling of domesticity woven into the blog, but as with Marmite, others find them boring and irrelevant. As the old saying goes, life isn’t all beer and skittles, and neither is it cakes and ale, but rest assured gentle reader, now that I’ve caught up somewhat on house and garden matters, normal service should be resumed very soon.

 

Another good start to the day!

A few weeks ago, the lad and I enjoyed a first class cooked breakfast, at the Little Brown Jug at Chiddingstone Causeway. The food was so good that I took to my keyboard and started bashing out a piece about our experience. I hadn’t written much before deciding to check out what I’d written before about going out for breakfast, and I looked for guidance at a piece I had written 10 months ago. That post resulted from a good experience we had at the Chaser Inn at Shipbourne, the latter settlement being an attractive and well-spaced-out village to the north of Tonbridge, at the base of the Greensand Ridge.

The Chaser is owned by the same small pub-group (Whiting & Hammond), that owns the Little Brown Jug, and it wasn’t long before I realised that what I was writing about the Jug, was a virtual repeat of last May’s post about the Chaser. So, rather than going over old ground, again, I started asking questions, regarding /the popularity, or otherwise of eating out for breakfast, especially when it involves a visit to the pub. 

Before going any further, with the honourable exception of Wetherspoon’s, not many pubs open for breakfast, particularly during the week. To do so, would mean either employing additional staff, or splitting shifts in order to open early. In addition, you’re never quite sure what the demand is going to be. Fortunately, most of the ingredients that go into a Full English– eggs, bacon, sausages etc. can be stored in the fridge and then cooked to order, but regardless of this, pubs serving breakfast are few and far between. Finally, pubs are far more likely to offer breakfast at weekends, than during the week.

Breakfasting out, especially at weekends, seems more of an American tradition than a British one, and on my first trip across the Atlantic, I went out for breakfast on several occasions, with my brother-in-law. Somewhat unusually for an American, Ernie doesn’t drink coffee, and doesn't eat eggs either - both of course being an essential make-up of a North American breakfast. We still managed to visit a few places though where there was food and drink (I’m talking about tea here), to satisfy both of us. Certainly, on my first visit to the US I breakfasted with my brother-in-law, and my sister joined us a couple of times as well. Whatever the origin of this custom it's good to drive off and grab something satisfying and filling, on a day when there’s no work to be done, and no need to hurry.

On my very first morning in the US, I was left to my own devices, as Ernie had to call in at the office for a couple of hours, and my sister, who worked as a teaching assistant (Uncle Sam didn’t recognise her UK teaching certificate), was also absent. Having slept well, despite a transatlantic flight, and a domestic one as well, I slipped out of bed, took a quick shower, and after dressing took a wander down into the quaint little, old-town section of Amherst – that’s Amherst Ohio as, like with Springfield, there are several other towns of the same name in the USA.

I don’t remember much about that compact little diner, let alone the items I chose for my breakfast, but I did feel more than a little self-conscious – an Englishman abroad, if you like. A few days later, Ernie drove the pair of us out to a much larger establishment, on the edge of town – a place that he said was worth visiting for the entertainment value, as much as the food. It was a help yourself breakfast buffet, where customers could eat as much as they liked. With hindsight, it reminds me very much of the breakfast buffets Eileen and I have experienced on cruise ships, so I expect the latter were very much modeled on the same principle as this type of American diner.

We grabbed what we wanted and sat down to enjoy our morning meal. With a subtle grin on his face, my brother-in-law said, “Watch out, the professionals will be in soon!” I wondered what he meant, until a several of the fattest and heaviest people (both sexes), waddled in, and began piling up their plates with bacon, sausages, hash browns, toast and all sorts of varieties of cooked eggs. They then slid their was y over to a convenient table and began devouring the mountain of food in front of them. Incredibly, many of them went back for a second helping. These gargantuan individuals were the professionals that Ernie was referring to, and as we watched with a mixture of fascination and disgust, he told me how ashamed he was of these fellow countrymen of his, and the way they were stuffing their faces.

This particular American diner probably wasn’t alone with its “all you can eat” menu, but there are places like this in the UK as well. Matthew has a friend who is a fan of these “greasy spoon” cafés, and unfortunately his liking for large platefuls of greasy, fried food is only too evident, by the size of him. As an occasional treat though, these establishments are fine, and I have written before about the two American-themed roadside restaurants called the OK Diner, with one at the side of each carriageway, on the busy A1 trunk road.

Both are just to the north of the attractive Lincolnshire town of Stamford. We have stopped at both establishments on trips to Yorkshire and back, but these appropriately named “pit stops” have been brunch destinations, rather than breakfast ones. With both establishments offering all-day breakfasts though, they help brighten up what can be otherwise, a long and boring journey.

Finally, no article about pubs serving breakfast would be complete without mentioning the famous “Spoons” offering. At Wetherspoons you know exactly what will be served up on those famous willow-pattern plates, and generally it is filling, tasty and good value for money. Over the years, Matthew and I have breakfasted in all three of our local JDW outlets (Sevenoaks, Tonbridge & Tunbridge Wells), and by and large both the food and the service have been pretty good.

There are rumours that some of the breakfast ingredients are either pre-cooked or part cooked, which might explain why your meal arrives so quickly on you table, but when served at less than half the price of what we’ve paid at the Bruning & Price outlets, Spoons breakfasts are ideal for those on a budget, as well as in a hurry.

I shall leave it there, even though there’s plenty more I could write about the first meal of the day. We also haven't answered the question of why so few pubs have a breakfast offering. Matthew makes fun of me, when I tell him that breakfast is a good start to the day, but when on holiday a substantial meal, first thing in the morning, is usually enough to see me through to the evening.

 

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!

 

Dark Beer Weekend at the Dovecote

Last Friday, in the company of a half dozen or so members of West Kent CAMRA branch, plus one small dog, I visited the Dovecote Inn, situated in the tiny hamlet of Capel. Travelling by bus, we took the 205 Autocar service from Tonbridge, and then alighted at Five Oak Green – a small, but rapidly expanding village, close to Paddock Wood. From there, it was a 25-minute walk, along the lanes to the Dovecote, which along with the adjacent row of Victorian houses, forms part of a rather isolated settlement.

This was a repeat of the journey a smaller group of us made a the end of October last year. The occasion back then was the Dovecote’s Green Hop Beer Festival, and this time it was a different festival that the pub was hosting in the form of their Dark Beer Weekend. The even featured 14 different dark beers, from 13 different breweries, all available from Friday onward for the duration of the festival, or until the beers ran out.  

The Dovecote is situated on the back road between Colts Hill and Tudeley which, as we discovered, was surprisingly busy. From the outside it is a typical Victorian building, that has been extended at the front and at the side, whilst to the rear there is a part-covered terrace, along with an extensive garden and large car-park. With very few chimney pots in the immediate vicinity, the Dovecote has always needed something different to offer its customers, and it achieves this by selling a wide range of cask beers (up to six), direct from the cask alongside a selection of what it describes as “good traditional, locally sourced homely food, in a cosy atmosphere”.

Arriving at the pub at around quarter to one, we found the pub already quite busy, with a party of expectant diners occupying the area to the right of the bar. We therefore made a grab for the other main seating area, at the opposite end of the building, but not before purchasing a few tokens. As with the Green Hop event, the Dark Beer Festival was tokens only, priced at £2.50 per half pint, regardless of strength. This seemed a little strange given that the pub was still taking payments (cash and card) behind the bar, although I suppose this policy kept the festival finances separate from the rest of the pubs transactions, including the food.

Several of us had already decided to have something to eat and seeing the number of people already in the pub, and knowing that the kitchen closed at 2pm, we got our orders in quick. My choice was the chicken, ham, and leek pie, served with mashed potato, veg and gravy – a no brainer really, given my love of pies. The food also arrived, whilst I was still on my first beer.

Speaking of which, there were a couple of old favourites featured on the line-up, in the form of Harvey’s XXXX Old Ale plus Larkin’s Porter. I was especially pleased to see the latter on sale, as it represented my first glass of this full-bodied, dark, seasonal ale this winter. Seasonal, is probably the wrong adjective, as I was told by a couple of branch members that Larkin’s now brew Porter all year round. Things have certainly changed since brewery founder Bob Dockerty’s passing, at the end of 2022, although I’d be interested to learn how many casks of Porter are sold during the summer months.

Other beers of note included Coffee & Irish Cream Stout, from North Riding Brewery, plus French Toast Brown Ale from New Bristol Brewery. Both beers tasted as their names suggested, and whilst not exactly mainstream, were interesting in their own right. I ended the session on a strong beer – Westerham’s Audit Ale a 6.2% abv strong ale, brewed to the same strength and using the same ingredients as the pre-war, Audit Ale from the original Westerham Brewery. My tasting notes on Untappd, describe the beer having a vinous taste, and I think this was deliberate, as barrel-aged, or vatted ales from the early part of the last century, would have had this characteristic, which is reminiscent of certain aged, strong Belgian beers.

Our group left the pub just after 3.15pm, allowing sufficient time to walk back to Five Oak Green and then catch the 3.44pm bus back to Tonbridge. I alighted at the Vauxhall Inn, on the edge of Tonbridge and under 10 minutes’ walk from home, but the others stayed onboard, heading, I believe, for Fuggles and no doubt more strong beers, possibly dark, but possibly not.

 A few final words about the Dovecote which is now back in the capable hands of licensees Simon and Lindsey who,
despite their laid-back appearance, run a highly professional and very tight ship, which is reflected in the strong client base they have built up since taking over the reins. Another familiar face from the past at the Dovecote, is the chef Yvonne, who used to run the Royal Oak in Tunbridge Wells. She certainly cooks a mean chicken and ham pie, and her culinary skills are also fondly remembered by Mrs PBT’s who, upon knowing Yvonne was back in the kitchen, recalled the excellent Christmas dinner she provided for West Kent CAMRA members, 10 years ago at the Royal Oak.