Interrail 1975. Part Four - Spain, France & Home

White Horses of the Camargue

The previous section of the narrative saw my travelling companion, Nick and I boarding a west-bound train at Marseille station. This would have been mid-morning. We had a lengthy journey ahead of us which would involve several changes of train before reaching our planned halt at the resort town of Benidorm, on Spain’s Costa Blanca.

Our train hugged the Mediterranean coast for some distance, before veering off inland slightly, as we passed through the area known as the Camargue. This area lies between the two arms of the River Rhône, and is Western Europe's largest river delta. It comprises large salt-water lagoons, which are cut off from the sea by sandbars and encircled by reed-covered marshes. It is home to the famous breed of White Camargue Horses, and as we travelled through this region, the hazy sunshine peering through the mists, reminded me of the children’s TV programme, White Horses. My sister, being three years younger than me, was a fan of this series, but all I remember today about the programme was its theme song, performed by a singer called Jacky (real name Jackie Lee).

 Border at Cerbère - http://transpressnz.blogspot.co.uk/2011/02/.html

As the morning turned into afternoon and then became early evening, we reached the French-Spanish border at the town of Cerbère.  A change of train was essential here, as the Spanish Railways operate over tracks with a wider-gauge to the rest of Europe. I don’t know whether this was a result of Spain’s isolation from the rest of Western Europe because of its quasi-fascist regime, or whether it was a simple matter of economics, but due to the incompatibility of the rail networks, there were no cross-border trains. 

The change of train gave us a chance to stretch our legs, before boarding a local service bound for the next stop on our itinerary, the city of Barcelona; capital of the Catalan region of Spain; not that this area enjoyed the same degree of autonomy it has today. Generalissimo Franco, had put paid to that when his Nationalist armies had crushed Spain’s democratically elected Republican government in 1938, at the end of the Spanish Civil War. Franco’s Spain was very different to the country visited today, by thousands of British tourists; although as events were to prove, the Spanish dictator had only a year or so to live. We, of course, were oblivious to this and I have to confess I knew very little at the time of Spain’s troubled past.

I mentioned that we had boarded a local train, and it was just that – very local and stopping at every small village and hamlet along the way. It was also staggeringly uncomfortable, with hard seats with no head support. Along the way we caught glimpses of Spain’s northern Mediterranean coast, but by the time we arrived at Barcelona’s Estacio de França station, it was dark.

Estacio de França - Barcelona

I revisited the station, during my stay in the city, last March, and wrote about it here. At the time it was Barcelona’s main station, but during the intervening 40 years, a new station has been constructed on the other side of the city, allowing through trains to cross the town, by means of tunnels below the streets. As mentioned in my article, we had trouble boarding what was a very over-crowded train, and only managed to jump on board at the last minute. I don’t remember too much of our journey, apart from having to sit in the corridor for part of the duration.

Sometime the following day, we arrived in Valencia, after travelling through the night. This involved a further change of train, but not before we had ventured into the city to stock up on provisions (bread, water, cheese and tomatoes). Our next train took us high up into the mountains behind the city, as we travelled towards Alicante; our next destination.

It was early evening by the time we arrived and we were supposed to be taking a train on the narrow-gauge railway (FGV) which runs back along the coast to Benidorm. This railway was privately-owned, so was not covered by our Interrail ticket, so after unsuccessfully trying to locate the station, we decided to take a bus instead. Either way we would have needed to pay, and as it turned out the bus was by far the better option.

Benidorm - a lot more built upthan it was in 1975

It was dark when we arrived in Benidorm, and after hunting around, unsuccessfully as it happened, for a campsite, we headed for the beach. A group of pedalos tied up close to the waterline seemed a good place to lay out our sleeping bags and get some shut-eye, especially as my friend pointed out that with a rise and fall in the tide, of no more than four feet, in the Mediterranean, the risk of us getting washed away was pretty minimal. 

Before bedding down for the night we got chatting to a group of revellers who were walking along the beach. It was just as well we did, because shortly after a couple of Guardia Civil officers came strolling in the opposite direction and told us to “clear off”. Had we been curled up in our sleeping bags, I have no doubt we’d have received not just a rude awakening, but probably a night in the cells as well for vagrancy!

We managed to get our heads down, for a short while, on a hillside overlooking the sea, on the edge of town, and then come daylight, found a suitable campsite. I mentioned in the previous post that I had a girlfriend who was working in Benidorm. Like my companion Nick’s girlfriend, she was taking a degree in modern languages at the same university as us, and was spending six months in Spain as part of the course. She had landed a position as receptionist in a German-owned hotel.

From memory I believe we stayed for three nights in the town. I spent as much time as I could with my lady friend, when she wasn’t working and she kindly treated Nick and I to the odd meal, after taking pity on our slightly emancipated state caused by the paucity of our diet. Apart from my brief stop in Cologne, I probably consumed more beer there on any other portion of the trip. My girlfriend had to work one night, so I accompanied Nick to one of Benidorm’s many clubs – there were people handing out free tickets all along the seafront, and once inside the beer was free as well. We met a couple of rather attractive Dutch girls that evening, and whilst I don’t remember their names, I do remember us ending up on the beach. I will leave the rest to your imagination.

It was a sad goodbye when we departed the resort, as I was still rather “loved up”. I must have also been rather tired as I slept for much of the rail journey back through Spain to the French border. Once in France, we caught a fast train to Paris. Time was now close to running out on our month-long Interrail passes, but there was still sufficient left for us to enjoy a few days in the French capital.

https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/deed.en

We took advantage of a large camping site in the Bois de Boulogne. The sun shone and we spent three wonderful days in Paris, for who could not fail to enjoy this lovely city? We did all the sights, including a marathon visit to the Louvre. I’m also fairly certain we enjoyed some French beer as well. By this time money had well and truly run out. There were no such things as cash cards, or ATM’s back then, and after cashing my last remaining traveller’s cheque I had just about enough cash to see me to the Channel Ports and the ferry back to England.

After checking the ferry times, I sent a telegram (remember them?), to my parents, informing them of my planned arrival in Folkestone the following day. I said farewell to Nick, who was catching a later sailing, in order to squeeze in some last minute sight-seeing, and made my way to the Gare du Nord. I then took the train to Boulogne, and boarded the ferry. When I disembarked at Folkestone, my mother was waiting to meet me, along with a friend she had persuaded to drive her there in order to collect me. I think that after a month’s absence, with only the occasional post card home, she actually seemed rather relieved to see me!

Some background information:
 

My friend and I used the Interrail ticket to make our roughly circular journey around the continent, by train. The “ticket” came in the form of a small booklet, which was really more of a “pass”. There were various boxes to fill in and have validated. The idea was you entered both your departure and arrival destinations in the appropriate boxes, and then presented your “pass” at the ticket office, for it to be officially stamped, or “validated”.

In order to allow flexibility, it was preferable to complete each stage, one step at a time, and then to get the ticket validated at major railway stations; rather than at small, isolated rural locations. This was common sense really, and we had no problems whatsoever. When a ticket collector appeared on the train, you just showed him or her pass and all was ok. Back in those pre-Schengen Agreement days, there were of course border checks, where passports had to be shown as well; but again these presented no problems.

Today an Interrail ticket allows rail travel in up to 30 European countries, and offers far greater flexibility than it did 40 years ago. For example, you can limit your travel to 7, 15 or 22 days within the month, or you can travel every day during that period. Tickets are priced accordingly. You can also purchase a ticket for a single European country, which allows up to 8 days travel within a month; thereby offering an excellent way of journeying around a specific country, with the opportunity of spending several days in a number of different locations. You can discover more here.

Finally, it is worth mentioning that back in 1975, there was an upper age limit restriction of 26 years old, on Interrail availability. This was later raised to 29, and has now been abolished altogether. With this in mind, and with retirement looming in four to five years time, I might just buy another Interrail ticket and head off on another journey of discovery!

 

What difference a penny?

I’ve been a member of CAMRA for over 40 years, and whilst I’ve broadly supported most of its aims over the past four decades, occasionally the Campaign gets it spectacularly wrong. A prime example can be found on the front page of this month’s “What’s Brewing” newspaper, which calls for MP’s to write to the Chancellor of the Exchequer, and ask for a 1p cut in beer duty in next month's budget, which takes place on 8^th March.

The campaign for a cut in duty is being spearheaded by the British Beer and Pub Association (BBPA), but CAMRA has also thrown its weight behind it, and is asking members to lobby their MP in support of a 1p cut in beer duty.

British drinkers pay the highest rate of duty in Europe, but what difference would a cut of one penny make?

CAMRA national chairman, Colin Valentine stated that in previous years, the Campaign had been able to secure cuts to beer duty in 2013, 2014 and 2015 and last year, the Chancellor implemented a duty freeze. Mr Valentine highlighted that the UK is still paying among the highest rate of beer duty in Europe at 52.2p on the pint. This compares to other big brewing nations which pay a tenth less than UK beer drinkers such as Germany and Spain, who enjoy their beer at under 5p of duty on a pint.

He concluded by saying that the beer, brewing and pubs sector now supports nearly 900,000 jobs in the UK, and contributes £23.6bn to the economy every year, and that a further cut would help encourage investment, protect jobs and improve confidence in the sector.

Now I’m sure all this is true, and in an ideal world most drinkers would like to see a reduction in beer duty, but a penny off the average cost of £3.40 a pint is neither here nor there. If you will pardon the pun, it really is small beer, and is certainly not worth anyone’s time and effort in lobbying parliament over. I also understand that as a "campaigning organisation", CAMRA needs to be seen as "doing something", but there are other areas where the group's resources could be used to far better effect, than by pleading for beer drinkers to be treated as a "special case".

A lot on his mind

To put things into perspective, I’m pretty certain the Chancellor has far weightier issues on his mind than a trivial and rather pointless cut in beer duty. For a start there is a massive hole in public finances. There are "vanity projects" to be funded, (Heathrow expansion, replacing Trident and constructing hugely expensive nucler power plants*); all this whilst the NHS is in crisis, exasperated by savage cuts to the social care budget. Whatever one’s political persuasion is this really the time to be lobbying for a cut in beer duty? In addition, what difference would a penny make anyway? Especially when previous duty cuts have not always been passed on to customers, but have been pocketed by the brewers instead.

CAMRA then gets on to its other hobby horse, that of encouraging “responsible drinking”. According to the Campaign's logic, this can only take place in a pub, as responsible adults cannot be trusted to imbibe alcohol with any sense of responsibility in their own homes. Mr Valentine states that pubs offer the chance to socialise with friends whilst enjoying a pint, but high taxation is driving people away from community pubs and towards the supermarket and other stores to buy their beer.

This of course, over-simplifies the issue. No-one would disagree that the British pub is a great institution, but it is not just high prices which are keeping drinkers out of the pub, but rather a whole combination of changing demographics and changes in social habits.

The call, therefore by both the BBPA and CAMRA for a reduction of up to £5000 in business rates for pubs across England, in order to alleviate the tax pressure on pubs, is likely to fall on deaf ears, especially in the straightened times the country finds itself in.

I will not be lending my support to this campaign; not just for the reasons outlined above, but because, over the last few months, I have invested an appreciable amount of time corresponding and meeting with my local MP over an issue of far greater national significance. No surprises for guessing as to what this might have been; but from my own experience I found my Member of Parliament very approachable and wiling to listen; even though he was ultimately unable to offer the support I was looking for.

So don’t knock the parliamentary process, at least not at local constituency level (the over-bearing influence of political parties on how MP's vote on national issues, is another matter, and is one of real concern.). It's also safe to say that Members of Parliament do have slightly more important, and rather more pressing issues to deal with than trivial matters, like a penny off a pint of beer!

* Btw, I have no political axe to grind over any of these projects. They just have two things in common; one they are very expensive, and two, can the country actually afford them?

Old Family Brewers of Britain. Part Ten – Samuel Smiths of Tadcaster

Samuel Smith’s are the oldest brewery in Yorkshire and are the only surviving independent brewery in the famous brewing town of Tadcaster.  The company began brewing at the Old Brewery in 1758, and water drawn from the well 85 feet beneath the brewery, is still used to produce their beers today.

Traditional methods of brewing are very much to the fore at the Old Brewery, and the company prides itself on brewing beers from purely natural ingredients without the use of additives, adjuncts, artificial colourings or flavourings. The majority of the company’s beers are fermented in stone “Yorkshire squares”; fermenting vessels made of solid slabs of slate, which give the beers a fuller bodied taste. The same strain of yeast has been in use since the nineteenth century.

Samuel Smith’s still employ a cooper to make and repair the oak casks used for their naturally conditioned draught Old Brewery Bitter. As well as this renowned cask beer, the company produces a wide range of highly respected bottled beers; even reviving such brewing styles as Imperial Stout, Oatmeal Stout and Porter (Taddy Porter). Samuel Smiths have also received praise for the tasteful way in which they have renovated, or indeed restored, many of their pubs.

Although most Samuel Smith’s pubs are in Yorkshire, they have quite a sizeable tied estate in London. (Some of these pubs as well are prominent London landmarks, such as the Old Cheshire Cheese, the Cittie of Yorke and the Princess Louise).

Despite this emphasis on tradition, the company have never shied away from controversy and  in the mid 1990’s came under fire from CAMRA when they suddenly withdrew cask-conditioned, Old Brewery Bitter from the majority of their London pubs and replaced it with nitro-keg Sovereign Bitter. Sam’s stated that the reason for this withdrawal was that cask-conditioned beer does not “travel very well". At the same time they announced that the stronger Museum Ale was being discontinued. The latter beer had only appeared in the mid 1980’s, alongside the weaker Tadcaster Bitter, but neither received much promotion, and Tadcaster Bitter disappeared at the beginning of the 1990's.

The withdrawal of these beers left Old Brewery Bitter as the sole cask ale produced by the company; a situation which still persists today, but the irony is that despite the marketing which surrounds it, Old Brewery Bitter is not a particularly old brew. It was introduced in 1974, as the replacement for a range of beers sold under the "Taddy Ales" banner. At the same time Sam Smiths began re-signing their pubs with the White Rose of Yorkshire, and making great play of the fact that they were Yorkshire's oldest brewery.

Older drinkers will remember that for many years, Samuel Smith's used the brand name Ayingerbräu for its lagers and wheat beers. Bräuerei Aying is a family-run brewery situated in the Bavarian village of Aying; about 18 miles south of Munich.  The brand was best known in the UK for its "man-in-a-box" bar-top dispense mounting, used for Ayingerbräu Lager, which featured a model Bavarian man inside a plastic box.

In 2006 Ayingerbräu Lager reverted to being called, Alpine Lager; its original name from the 1960s. Production of both the Ayingerbräu D Pils and Prinz Lager brands also ceased. These have been replaced by Samuel Smith's Pure Brewed Lager.

Another change took place a few years earlier, when in 2000; Samuel Smith's began phasing out other branded products from its pubs, meaning that no large-corporation spirits or soft-drinks are available. The company took the “phasing out of brands exercise” a stage further by only selling their own Samuel Smith's Old Brewery branded crisps, nuts and pork scratchings in their pubs. 

In 2004, Sam’s took the decision to ban music in its pubs, which saves paying the fee demanded by the Performing Rights Society. Many customers irritated by “piped music”, welcomed the move.

Personal involvement

I have been a fan of Samuel Smith's, after stumbling upon one of their pubs during my second term at Salford University. This would have been in 1974, when I discovered that the Prince of Wales, in the Lower Broughton area of the city, served a very acceptable pint of Old Brewery Bitter

A couple of years later, I ended up renting a house almost within shouting distance of the Prince of  Wales, and spent many an evening in there enjoying the beer. As I later found out, from people who knew about such things, the beer in the POW was "bright" (filtered), rather than cask-conditioned. It was still very palatable, although as a member of CAMRA I would have preferred to have been drinking the "real thing".

I read at the time that whilst Sam’s refused to supply cask-conditioned beer to their tied estate west of the Pennines, they were quite happy to supply pubs in London with the genuine article. Towards the end of my stay in Manchester, the company relented, and slowly began re-introducing cask beer to selected pubs in the area. They even brought 4X Mild back in cask form, for a few years, at least.

When I moved back to Kent in 1980, Samuel Smith’s beers were a common sight in free-houses to the west of the county; but not long after they became confined to an area within the M25 motorway. Forty years later, OBB is rarely seen in Kentish pubs. I actually came across it more often in Norfolk during visits to the village where my parents retired to. With their large tied London estate, Sam's now only seem to supply their own pubs; possibly because of the extra work involved in looking after a beer which is solely supplied in wooden casks. There is also the problem of getting the expensive empty casks back as well.

I still really enjoy Old Brewery Biter and, when in London, I often make a point of calling in at the Chandos, close to Charing Cross station, for a final pint before catching the train home.

A couple of points to finish up on; first, I had commercial dealings with Samuel Smiths, just over a decade ago, when my wife and I had our off-licence in Tonbridge. We stocked the complete range of Sam’s bottles, and were very pleased with the service and help we received from the company. Although they would only supply mixed cases by the pallet load, this wasn’t a problem as the beers used to literally fly off the shelves.

Second, and a real bonus at the time, is the fact the company refuses to supply supermarkets and multiple-outlet off-licences. This was a major plus point for a small business, such as us, as it meant people had to come to buy their beers from our shop, rather than heading off to Sainsbury’s. Samuel Smith’s prices were also pretty keen as well.

Tonbridge Juddians Winter Beer Festival 2017

This weekend, our local rugby team, Tonbridge Juddians held their annual Winter Beer Festival. The event coincided with the start of the Six Nation’s Rugby Competition, so on Friday evening I headed down to TJ’s clubhouse, to check out what was going on.

I managed to avoid the rain that was being dumped on the country by “Storm Doris”, and after a brisk walk through the town, I arrived at the clubhouse just after 8pm. The festival was ticking over nicely, with just the right amount of people present to make for a comfortable experience. After picking up my £10 starter pack (souvenir glass, plus tokens) I headed straight for the bar, having already decided on what would be my first beer of the evening.

The beer in question was Hawkshead Windermere Pale 3.5%; a refreshing pale ale, which is full of hop character. I have drunk this beer before, so it was good to renew my acquaintance with it; especially as it had travelled such a long way.

The majority of the other beers were from sources much closer to home, with Sussex surprisingly taking the lead here. Strangely there was only one Kentish brewery represented (Pig & Porter), but I suspect this was because the organisers were looking for beers which are not normally available in the Tonbridge area.

With the first drink in my hand I set off to locate the contingent from my local CAMRA Branch, whom I knew would be there, thanks to a regular stream of WhatsApp messages. I soon found my friends sitting around a table, close to the clubhouse bar. Some of them had been here since opening time at 5pm.

I spent the rest of the evening chatting to both them and the festival organiser, Gary and Chris, who selected and sourced the beers. Chris said that, as I suspected, he was after something different but had tried to provide as interesting a mix of beers as possible. With Magic Rock from Buxton, Black Jack from Manchester and the aforementioned Hawkshead from the Lake District, Chris had certainly pulled this off.

In total there were 24 beers available, all priced at one token per half-pint regardless of strength; other festival organisers, including our own Spa Valley Railway event, please take note and copy! There were also six ciders, sourced from Devon, Glamorgan, Herefordshire and Somerset.

There were no Kentish ciders, or indeed other local ciders in the selection. I don't know whether or not this was deliberate, but the cider bar manager explained to me the difference between ciders made in the Eastern Counties; where the tradition is to use of culinary and dessert apples, as opposed to the "bitter-sweet" apples favoured by West Country cider producers. It is claimed that the latter type of apples produce a drink which is better balanced and with a greater depth of flavour, but not being that much of a cider connoisseur I don't know how true this is.

As well as the above mentioned people, I also bumped into a couple of near neighbours; hardly surprising considering the popularity of this annual festival. As well as the beers from Magic Rock and Hawkshead, I also enjoyed offerings from Sussex brewers, Burning Sky, 360°, Downlands and Gun. The latter, somewhat controversially, do not fine their beers, meaning they are naturally hazy; although by virtue of being un-fined they are also suitable for vegans.

I got chatting to a festival-goer about this issue. The individual concerned is an experienced home-brewer, of many years standing. He confirmed, what I have long known, that all beers will eventually clear on their own accord, but because of the need for beers to clear quickly in normal trade situations, finings are essential. He also agreed with me that suspended yeast can impart an unpleasant harshness to the beer, which would not be present if the beer was bright.

The home-brewer went on to say that specialist beer outlets apart, producers of un-fined beer would struggle to sell their beers in the vast majority of the traditional pub-trade. A handful of beer writers have argued to the contrary. For example, writer and blogger Matthew Curtis has claimed, on his Total Ales site that “exceptionally hazy pale ales”, which are “turbid to the point of resembling a glass of milk”, are the way forward. He states it is the mouth-feel, derived from the protein, yeast and hop compounds, which make up the haze, which makes these beers stand out.

The people who are driving this are, of course, the Americans; the same people who brought us "Black IPA's". We are getting somewhat off topic here, as things which might appeal to American beer geeks are, realistically, never going to become mainstream; and a good job too, as a haze in a beer can be used as an excuse to cover a multitude of sins.

Back to the real world, and TJ’s Festival. It was a good all-round event and although I only spent the one evening there, I enjoyed myself immensely. The beer of the festival, for me, was definitely Burning Sky Porter which, despite weighing in at just 4.8% ABV, packed in bundles of flavour. It was so good that I broke my usual beer festival practice of not drinking the same beer twice in a session!

St Andrew's Brew House - Norwich

It’s surprising that given the number of trips I’ve made up to Norfolk (certainly during the past decade), that I’ve made very few visits to the county town of Norwich. Even more telling is that apart from very recently, most of the forays I have made into the city have been by car, leaving precious little opportunity for exploring Norwich’s many pubs. Given the city’s rich heritage of pubs, and the wide variety of beers available – post Watney’s, this is a shame, and a situation that was only rectified three years ago, when I attended the 2013 CAMRA Members’ Weekend (AGM), which was held in Norwich, with the conference proceedings taking place in the historic setting of the adjoined St Andrews and Blackfriars Halls.

Last weekend’s visit to Norfolk, primarily to visit my father, saw son Matthew and I staying at a hotel on the outskirts of Norwich, which meant we were able to spend an afternoon and evening in the city, and also return to a location opposite St Andrews and Blackfriars Halls.

We had walked passed St Andrew’s Brew House, last November, whilst on a previous trip into Norwich. On that occasion we had foolishly travelled into the city by car; something I strongly advise against doing on a Saturday afternoon. After sitting in traffic and hunting round for a parking spot, we had eventually found a place slightly outside of the city centre, and had noticed this relatively new (2015) establishment on our walk into central Norwich.

There wasn’t time to call in, on that occasion, but I had made a mental note and was determined to check the place out on our next visit. This time we wisely took the bus into Norwich, and with a special weekend “group return” ticket available for the bargain price of just £5 for the two of us, this really was the sensible way to travel. To start with we did a bit of a tour of Norwich’s two shopping centres (Chapel Field and Castle Mall); Matthew is something of a shopaholic, but then he does work in retail.

We had a brief look around the city afterwards, pausing to admire the impressive bulk of the 13^th Century keep, which is all that remains of Norwich Castle. We eventually made our way down towards St Andrew’s Hall, but not before stopping for a quick look at the menu displayed outside the Belgian Monk; a Belgian inspired restaurant-cum-pub tucked away at the top of the hill, in Pottergate.

St Andrew’s Brew House occupies a prominent corner position, with the main bar area facing the busy St Andrew’s Street, whilst the restaurant section looks out across the pedestrianised area in front of the two halls. Both sections of the establishment have windows of clear glass, enabling potential customers to see what is going on inside, and how busy the place is.

The bar was busy, but not horrendously so, which meant we were served more or less straight away. There were four hand-pumped, house-brewed beers on offer, plus a couple of keg beers. The brewing kit was clearly visible behind a glass screen, to the far left of the bar. I went for the  4.6% IPA to start with, whilst Matthew opted for a pint of Amstel – some people have no taste!

After being served, we moved away from the bar, and headed round the corner towards the restaurant section, where a sign asked people to wait in order to be seated. Although this section seemed busy with diners, a pleasant young waitress found us a table for two, on the proviso we would vacate it by 7pm. As the time was only just after 5 o’clock I told her this would not be a problem. We sat ourselves down in the raised area towards the back, and studied the menu.

A "proper" pie

The homemade beef and ale pie caught my eye, as it did Matthew’s, but hedging my bets on the chance that this menu choice might not be a “proper pie”, I also marked the haddock and chips as my second choice. Fortunately the waitress allayed my fears as she knew exactly what I was refereeing to when I enquired if the pie was indeed “proper”. Yes it was, and it came highly recommended. This was good enough for me, and we placed our order. I went for mash potato with mine, whilst Matthew went for chips.

The pie was indeed excellent, being filling, hearty and satisfying, and good food called for another beer. This time I opted for the smooth and dark Porter, which at 4.8% ABV was an excellent accompaniment to my meal. We sat there finishing off our drinks, watching the various comings and goings, before departing, as agreed, some time before 7pm. 

I have to say I was very impressed with what we found at St Andrew’s Brew House. The beer and food, together with the knowledge and enthusiasm of the staff were second to none, and I will definitely be making a return visit.

Do small rural pubs have a future?

The lack of a car park doesn't help

At the risk of sounding boring and focused solely on a single topic, I want to mention the Greyhound again. I am doing this partly because I promised to reveal more about some issues which might prevent the pub from ever reopening, but also because some of these points could equally apply to other threatened rural pubs. I walked passed the now sadly closed pub this lunchtime. It hasn’t been boarded up yet, but I suspect it will only be a matter of time before this happens.

So what future, if any, is there for the Greyhound? Well, as mentioned in a previous article, a group of concerned local residents have applied to have the pub listed as an ACV (Asset of Community Value). The result of this application should be known by the third week of February, but having ACV listing provides no firm guarantees that the building will continue as a pub; it just makes it a little harder for a potential purchaser to succeed in obtaining permission for “change of use”.

A garden definitely helps

There are a couple of factors which I know have already persuaded two potential investors, to not go through with buying the pub as a going concern. The first is that, somewhat unusually for a rural pub, the Greyhound does not have a garden. 

There is a strip of land to the left of the pub, which is used as a beer garden, but it actually belongs to the property behind, and is currently leased to the pub. Whether this arrangement would continue, if the pub was to acquire new owners, is uncertain, and there are no guarantees that it will.

The second and rather more serious concern is the pub has no car-park. It is possible to park on the road, either side of the pub, and even opposite, whilst still leaving room for cars to pass, but the number of spaces is limited, and too many cars parking along the lane could lead to complaints from local residents. This is a serious handicap for a country pub which relies on people arriving by car, for the bulk of its trade.

Of course, both factors could also weigh against conversion to a private dwelling, as most people who move to the country, desire a garden of some sorts; and most would also want off-road parking. The alternative would be to convert the pub into two separate dwellings, but even then both a garden and off-road parking are desirable features; if not essential.

Whatever the effect of the lack of these amenities, there is no future for the pub as a “wet-sales” only establishment. I know roughly what Larkin’s were taking each week, and I suspect that it barely covered the rent. It is therefore essential that a re-opened Greyhound offers food. The pub was doing this before it closed last summer, and often when I walked by on my lunchtime constitutional, I could see people inside getting tucked to a meal. I can’t, of course, advise as to how busy the pub was in the evening, but I think it must have been ticking over ok.

At the moment then, it remains very much a case of “wait and see”, but the fact that Larkin’s had been asked to terminate their temporary lease, does indicate that someone has made a firm offer for the Greyhound.

So does a good beer range - providing the turnover is there!

The thing which emerges from all this is that rural pubs, of the type I remember drinking in whilst coming of age, have virtually disappeared. Larkin’s valiant attempt to prove otherwise, during their brief tenancy of the Greyhound, unfortunately failed. More than ever, country pubs need to offer food, and good food at that; food which people are prepared to travel for, in order to enjoy. 

Some rural pubs also manage to stock a good range of local, and sometimes hard to get beers, on top of their food offer. Such places become “destination pubs”; places which discerning drinkers (and diners) are prepared to seek out and make the effort to travel to. The Windmill, at Sevenoaks Weald is one such pub which springs to mind, but there are quite a few others, not just in this region, but all over the county. 

Local beer enthusiasts soon get to know these places, and actively seek them out, so the future is definitely not all bad for rural pubs. Some of them just need to up their game a bit.

Apricity and last orders at the Greyhound

In a previous post I mentioned the sad closure of the Greyhound at Charcott. At the moment we don’t know whether this is a temporary situation, or a permanent one. I will be examining the options regarding the pub’s future in a later post, but for now I want to focus on the Greyhound’s last day and the part played in it by my local CAMRA branch.

The Greyhound’s farewell party took place last Saturday evening. As there would be a lot of clearing up to do, not just after the party but because Larkin’s were due to surrender their short-term lease on the pub, James the landlord agreed to host one final session at lunchtime, the following day. This was primarily to allow local CAMRA to say farewell to the pub, but also to give those local drinkers who were unable to attend the night before, the chance for a few final drinks.

A nice country retreat

James told us the pub would be open from midday to around 4pm, which fitted in nicely with people’s travel plans. An hourly train service on the Tonbridge – Redhill line would allow members to alight at Penshurst, and then take a 15-20 minute walk to Charcott, by means of a tarmac path which crosses the old (WWII) Penshurst Airfield. The more active amongst us decided to walk from Leigh, a village which is one stop back along the line in the direction of Tonbridge.

So on a freezing cold day, made bearable by some very welcome and pleasing hazy sunshine, three of us caught the 11.36 train over from Tonbridge in readiness for our walk. We met up with the fourth member of the walking party, who happens to live in Leigh, and then headed up towards the parish church, and then through the church-yard.

The mysterious "shoe tree"

I pass through Leigh twice a day, on my drive to and from work, but in over 10 years of doing so, this was the first time I’d visited the church-yard. The church stands on higher ground than the rest of the village, and I’m certain there are reasons why the original builders chose this location. Leigh is what is known as an “estate village”, in so much that the village centre was re-modelled by the family of landed gentry who owned much of it. The latter lived at Hall Place, a stately pile which we would be circumventing on our route to Charcott. Hall Place was rebuilt, to its current design in 1872, and many of the handsome looking, Victorian properties in the village date from the same period.

The sun was shining, and there was not a cloud in the sky as we passed out from the church-yard, and took the footpath in front of one of the ornate gatehouses which forms the boundary to the Hall Place estate. We passed several groups of walkers heading in the opposite direction; mainly people out with their dogs.

Hale Place itself was largely invisible; hidden behind a row of trees, but also partly obscured by the hazy sunshine, and the footpath we were following also took us around the edge of a wood, but eventually we passed out into open countryside, pausing en route for a look at Leigh Park Farm, with its associated oast houses and waterside setting.

Entrance to a Cold War nuclear bunker

The final section of the walk was along a road, but fortunately one which doesn’t receive that much traffic. Before reaching the pub, we decide to make a brief detour for a look at the mysterious “shoe tree”; a tree with a number of pairs of shoes and boots hanging from its branches. No-one seems to know the purpose or significance (benign or sinister) of this; not even the locals.

We also bumped into a person carrying out some restoration work on a former nuclear bunker, close to the junction. It turned out he was a volunteer, belonging to a preservation group which had bought the bunker, when they were all sold off by the M.O.D. at the end of the Cold War. I took a few photos, including one looking down the quite deep entrance shaft. I’m not sure that I fancied climbing down there, but fortunately we weren’t offered the opportunity; besides the pub was now close by and we were wasting valuable drinking time.

Apricity

When we arrived at the Greyhound, we found the rest of the CAMRA party standing outside waiting for us. Apparently there had been a problem with the smoke alarm which kept going off, so it was lucky that it was warm enough to sit outside (still with coats on, of course). This was “Apricity”!  The pub had been drunk dry the night before, so James had been along to Larkin’s to pick up a polypin of Traditional Ale. Many of us had brought a packed lunch, so we sat outside eating our lunch, whilst enjoying both the beer and the sunshine in equal quantities.

Lunch anyone?

There were about a dozen of us from CAMRA, and probably half that number who were either locals or casual visitors. The restoration enthusiast from the bunker also came along.  By this time James had sorted out the smoke alarm, so as the sun slowly began to sink in the sky, we moved indoors. The fire had also been lit, and this gave a nice welcoming touch. 

It wasn’t too long before the polypin ran out, so James drove the short distance to the brewery to pick up another. The beer in the second one was icy cold, which rather slowed down the rate of drinking, but I still managed to sink four pints.  As Larkin’s Trad has an ABV of just 3.4%, the four pints had very little effect on me. As a few other people remarked, it would have been nice to have found either Larkin’s Best or their Porter on sale, but under the circumstances we were probably fortunate with what we had.

Last Orders

We left around 3.40pm and walked back across the old airfield in order to catch the train back from Penshurst station. Before leaving we said goodbye to James, and wished him well for the future. The new polypin looked as though it was close to running out as we departed, but whilst it had been a good day, we left with a distinct feeling of sadness. Would we ever enjoy a glass of beer in the Greyhound again? Or was this the last farewell?  Who knows, but in the words of Fairport Convention “Time will show the wiser.”

Apricity : the warmth of the sun in winter.