End of lock-down?

Judging by the number of cars on the road last weekend, you could have been forgiven for thinking that the lock-down is over and everything’s back to normal. It was my idea to take a drive down into Sussex, and head towards Rye, in order to do our weekly food shop. Local independent grocery retailer, Jempsons have a large and well-filled superstore at nearby Peasmarsh, so a trip across county lines would enable us to go somewhere a little different for our shopping and see a little of the Sussex countryside.

It’s amazing how after being confined to a narrow area between home and work, the prospect of a 50-mile round trip could seem so exciting. Three and a half months ago we were looking forward to cruising in luxury across the North Sea to Hamburg, whereas now a short drive towards the coast seemed quite daring and definitely exciting.

We set of shortly after midday fully expecting the roads to be relatively free of traffic. Boy were we in for a shock.  Almost as soon as we joined the A21 to the south of Tonbridge, we became part of a steady stem of traffic. I was fast moving in the main, but that was the scary bit, as it seemed like every petrol-head and boy racer was out on the road, participating in a mad dash to the coast. To compound the sense of "Mad Max," there were dozens of bikers on the road as well, all eager participants in what seemed like a race to oblivion. 

We were glad to turn of the A21 at Flimwell and then cut across towards Rye via Hawkhurst and Newenden. Whilst waiting at the traffic lights in the centre of Hawkhurst, an ambulance came hurtling towards us in the opposite direction, its blue lights flashing an sirens wailing. "Another Covid patient being rushed to hospital," said son Matthew from the back seat. "More like one of these idiots going too fast," my wife and I both replied.

The traffic thinned out considerably after Hawkhurst, and as we crossed the River Rother and into Sussex, over the old stone bridge south of Newenden, we noticed the hire boats out on the river once again. We continued along the winding A268, skirting the village of Beckley, before reaching our destination on the edge of Peasmarsh.

I’ve written about Jempson’s before, but to recap they are a family-owned, Sussex-based company offering locally sourced products and services. They were founded in 1935, as a bakery business in the village of Peasmarsh, just outside Rye and today run two supermarkets, two convenience stores, six cafe’s, a pharmacy plus a petrol station.

Jempson’s are everyone’s favourite independent grocery store and, amongst other goodies, they sell “sausage rolls to die for.” Their Peasmarsh Superstore opened in January 2002 on the same site as that chosen by the firm’s founder, George Thomas Jempson 80 years ago. Mrs PBT’s and I have often called in there on our way back from visits to Rye, having been impressed by what is on offer there.

Saturday’s visit was slightly different due to lock restrictions, with a one-way system in place. This was well laid-out and easy to follow, so I left Eileen to do the shopping and walked around with Matthew, who wanted to buy some bits of his own. The café was obviously shut, which is a shame as I like to grab myself a coffee whilst Mrs PBT’s picks up the groceries.

Before anyone access me of sexism, this is very much my wife’s choice.  She rightly points out that it only take one person to shop; her pet hate being couples (especially elderly ones), who amble up and down the  aisles whilst dithering over what to have for dinner next Wednesday and what they could do with the left-over Sunday joint? I’m sure you get what I’m talking about here.

So, no relaxing cup of coffee, which was probably just as well as the toilets were shut; one of the real downsides of the current Corona-virus situation! Are customer toilets that much a hot bed of infection capability, I wonder? (Probably yes, according to the latest science.)

Straight back to Tonbridge it was then after loading up the car, with no scenic drive along the coast, or stop-off at Dungeness for fish and chips. We gave the A21 a miss on the drive back, taking the route through Ticehurst and Wadhurst instead. With the pubs shut, there was no point in stopping off at the Bull Inn at Three Leg Cross, either.

The route brought us in at the bottom end of Tunbridge Wells and up passed the common. It seemed like half the town was either sitting or lying out on the Common, soaking up the afternoon sunshine, but most of the groups did seem to be sensibly spaced from one another.

I spent most of Sunday in the garden, until Matthew asked if I fancied a walk around the Sportsground. He drove us down, mainly to give his car a bit of a run, but also because I’ve been hobbling around of late. An insect bite, at the bottom of my right shin, has turned septic causing an infection known as cellulitis. I’ve been prescribed a course of antibiotics, but even these seem rather slow at shifting the infection.

A walk probably wasn’t the wisest of things, under the circumstances, but I fancied a look round Tonbridge’s largest area of open space. We parked near the swimming pool and then took the path that follows the stream right round the perimeter of what is known locally as the "Sportsground."  This meant we largely manged to avoid most of the crowds out taking advantage of the sunny weather.

Matthew wanted a look at the boats moored on the opposite bank of the river. Some of these are lived in, and form part of a small community of narrow boat owners centred around the local boatyard, known locally as the “Venice of Tonbridge.”

The boatyard was the centre of controversy a few year ago when the people living in the narrow boats moored there were told there would be changes made to their tenancy agreement. This meant they would no longer have access to electricity, drinking water, toilet and washing facilities, shed storage and garden areas, which had been included under their previous agreement.

Given just two weeks to sign up and faced with a High Court action to evict them, most of the owners left. It had been suggested that the family who owned the yard wanted to build there, even though the local authority had advised it was very unlikely that planning permission would be granted, due to the risk of flooding.

Fortunately, a benefactor in the form of a boating enthusiast, who had once lived on the river himself, stepped in, secured a long-term lease on the yard, cleared up the site in line with health and safety regulations. He then invited prospective tenants to apply for a mooring with what is now known as Tonbridge Boatyard Ltd. Several boats have now returned, and it was good to see this community of boat owners back in their rightful place.

We made our way back towards the High Street. Matthew wanted a look at his shop which has been shut since the start of the lock-down. He is due back there next Monday, helping a couple of management colleagues get the premises safe and ready for reopening at the beginning of next month. Like many others, he is looking forward to going back to work, after 14 weeks on furlough – another American word that has found its way into our language.

Monday just gone, was the first day of trading for many “non-essential” shops and small businesses. Traffic on my journey into work was noticeably heavier, and even more so yesterday morning (Tuesday). I took a different route into work, noticing as I drove past the entrance to Penshurst Place that this popular late medieval manor house is also reopening to visitors; albeit by means of pre-booked appointments only.

Slowly but inexorably, life is gradually returning to some semblance of normality.

 

Accept it - don't fight it

If  I’ve done the math correctly – as our American friends would say, we’re now halfway through the twelfth week of the so-called “lockdown;” a word we can thank our friends from across the Atlantic for. Like “social-distancing,” “lockdown” is a word we’ve heard far too much of recently and is yet another Americanism I’ve come to dislike.

But, as the wise-man said, “we are where we are” and it’s not much use complaining about a situation that few could have foreseen or, indeed have had to deal with before. Sure us humans have been beset by pandemics before, but it’s a hundred years since we’ve faced anything on this scale.

I don’t want to dwell too much on the whys and wherefores; although I might throw in a few of my own thoughts as to where this situation is going, at the end. Instead I wanted to suggest a few coping mechanisms which may help those who are slowly going crazy from being imprisoned in their own homes and not allowed to visit family loved ones or friends.

Confinement affects individuals in different ways and is especially hard on those used to doing their own thing. If, like me and many readers of this blog, you like to visit and explore different places, or enjoy having new experiences, then this unprecedented clampdown and restriction of our civil liberties has probably hit you quite hard.

I’m sure there are plenty amongst you who have seen holiday cancelled and other plans put on hold. We’ve had a cruise to Hamburg  that’s been cancelled plus a short break in the Czech Republic that’s now been put back until next year. Travel seems out of the question at the moment, even within the UK, although with luck that could change before too long.

Annoying as it is having to put travel plans on hold, it is not the end of the world and cancelled holidays can be re-booked and undertaken once this pandemic is over. Before you argue that it might never be over, just remember that every plague or pestilence that has occurred throughout history has always ended eventually.

With this in mind it’s worth taking a step back and reflecting that unless you or your loved ones have been adversely affected by Corona virus, this is a situation where patience and acceptance go a long way to mitigating the worst effects of the restrictions that have been imposed on us.

Before looking at these two qualities in greater detail, it’s worth reflecting on the stoicism shown by past generations as they faced two devastating world wars. The last of those conflicts in particular, meant six years of hardship and deprivation for the people of these islands, and for those involved in the fighting, the ever-present threat of death or serious injury. Civilians too were not immune from these threats, given the bombing raids conducted over many of our towns and cities.

When viewed from this angle, being confined to our own homes isn’t quite so bad, particularly now that some of the restrictions are gradually being lifted.  Without wishing to sound too clichéd, things could have been a hell of a lot worse.

I’ve been able to carry on in my job since virtually the start of  the emergency and whilst I did attempt a week and a bit  working from home, I found it much easier and more relaxing too, making the short journey into the office. With only around half of our normal compliment of staff in, I’ve been able to get a lot of things done whilst working in an environment that is largely free from interruptions.

I still find myself getting frustrated and, whist I appreciate it is necessary, I really dislike having to sidestep people I meet coming in the opposite direction from me and not getting too close to work colleagues or others I might meet in the course of a typical working day.

Not being able to jump on a train and head off for a day in London or, as my son and I did almost exactly a year ago, a day by the sea in Brighton. With pubs, restaurants and cafés closed, there’s not much point in these trips anyway and, as the same applies to hotels and guesthouses, it’s impossible to spend a night away from home.

I’m itching to recommence my stalled walk along the North Downs Way, but with no overnight accommodation available, it’s looking very difficult at present. As I may have mentioned in a previous post, Mrs PBT’s isn’t keen on me using public transport either, although now that the wearing of masks on buses and trains is to be made compulsory, she might well relent.

I keep telling her that an off-peak train, with just a handful of occupants, poses far less risk than a trip to the supermarket. Why am I so keen to travel on buses and trains? The answer is there are sections of the NDW I can easily cover, it there are public transport connections at either end.

Once again it all boils down to a little patience. We’ve only had three months of Corona-related restrictions, so why the hurry? I think, if truth be known, like almost everyone on planet Earth, there’s a deep-seated longing for things to get back to normal, as soon as possible. None of us like change, especially when it’s being forced on us, and patterns of behaviour acquired over decades, along with thousands of years of humans living together in complex societies, have left us with habits and patterns that are hard to break – even if we want to.

Most of us realise that changing these patterns for a short while, will be worth it in the long run; a sort of “no gain without pain” approach, but it still comes hard and it doesn’t come easy. We can learn from history though, and see how previous pandemics have been eased, and ultimately erased, by the appropriate quarantine and isolation methods. 

So what has, at the moment, become the new “normal” can very rapid fade back into memory, once the pandemic is over, but to arrive at that particular moment in time we need something else apart from patience, and that is acceptance.

Accepting things as they are is the key to a serene and peaceful existence, especially when what you are accepting are realities you can’t change. Accept you cannot force things and that you cannot force change. To do so just creates conflict, inner turmoil and ultimately pain, and believe me these aren’t things you want in your life, especially when everything around you seems to be falling apart.

I know that it’s frustrating not being able to do what we used to do and go wherever we wanted, but this situation is temporary, even if we don’t know how long it will be before normality returns. Don’t try to fight it, as it will make you miserable and leave you feeling un-fulfilled.

By accepting “what is,” you will gain a calmness and inner peace that will not only help you through the situation we all find ourselves in, but it will leave you stronger, wiser and ready to face the post-Corona world we eventually emerge into once all this is over.

This may all sound a bit too philosophical, but it’s helped me overcome my frustration and sense of helplessness. Look forward to the return of the good times; just don’t put a time-frame on when they return. Then, when things are back to normal, promise yourself that you’ll never ever take anything for granted again!

Finally, despite suggesting I was going to throw in a few suggestions as to the possible outcome of this situation, there’s so much speculation and conjecture that it would be pointless for me to add any of my own. Events often have a habit of overtaking us and taking us by surprise, so let’s just go with the flow and see where this one takes us.

A long closed pub and an eagerly awaited re-opening

At the beginning of September last year, I wrote a post entitled Friday in Tonbridge. It was basically a collection of photos, plus a write up of some of the pubs, restaurants and independent shops at the northern end of Tonbridge High Street.

Unsurprisingly, given the highly localised subject matter, the post didn’t attract any comments, but I thought about it again on Sunday afternoon when son Matthew and I took a brief stroll around this part of the town.  This was after we’d been for a brief drive over to Wateringbury – don’t ask me what for, as it’s all rather complicated!

We parked up close to Tonbridge Parish Church, which is dedicated to St Peter & St Paul. It is an attractive building constructed out of local sandstone and is said to date back to Saxon times, although personally I find that hard to believe. The tower was built in the 14^th Century, but most of the church is fairly recent, following restoration and extension work during the late Victorian period. 

Now here comes the confession; during the 35 years that I’ve lived in Tonbridge, I’ve never once set foot in its parish church, but with places of worship closed because of the Covid-19 restrictions, Sunday was not the time to make my first acquaintance. Also sadly closed, and for the same reason, was the Rose & Crown; Tonbridge’s largest and most prestigious hotel.  

I wrote a piece about this historic old inn here and mentioned it’s the hotel of choice amongst our Japanese board members when they come over for meetings. I don’t know when they’ll next be over, but there are rumblings that hotels and guest houses could be allowed to reopen early next month. If this happens it will be welcome news indeed to those of us wanting to spend a few days away from home.

From the Rose & Crown we headed over to Tonbridge’s historic castle. There seemed plenty of visitors spread out across the castle lawn, but all keeping a suitable distance from one another. Matthew then wanted to take a wander around the Slade area of the town, to have a look at one of Tonbridge’s long closed pubs. 

The Stag’s Head in Stafford Road has been shut for the best part of 10 years. The building is still standing, but it looks very sad and un-cared for. The pub was close to the original site of Tonbridge market, and was always particularly busy on market days. The market itself relocated several years before the closure of the Stag’s Head; the traders having accepted an offer to sell their town centre site to a group of developers. 

Houses now occupy the ground where the market traders once plied their wares. The market’s new site is one of the railway car parks and is a rather bleak and windswept location – especially in winter. Footfall and trade are now a fraction of what they were back in the market’s heyday, but such is the price of "progress."

Returning to the Stag’s Head for a few moments, it’s sad to see this once thriving pub now empty and falling into disrepair. Rumour has it the former landlord is still living there, having shut up shop following the death of his wife. I’m not sure how true this story is, but I have fond memories of the Stag. Back in the day it was the first pub in Tonbridge to stock Timothy Taylor’s beer and rather unusually, it was Best Bitter that was stocked, rather than the much more common Landlord.

I’m sure the pub could still be saved, given enough cash and a pair of

sympathetic hands. There are plenty of attractive Victorian cottages in the Slade area, many of them renovated to a high standard, so there would be no shortage of customers. Instead, the local punters will probably gravitate to the Ivy House which, when I wrote my piece last September, was undergoing an extensive renovation.

A look at the Ivy House was next on our agenda. The pub’s new owners had originally planned to open at Easter, until that nasty little virus threw a spanner in the works. The Ivy is now open, but only for people

to collect pre-ordered take-away food. We walked past and could see through the open door that the place had been refurbished to a high standard. The on-line take-away offering looks good too, especially the burgers.

The Ivy House is one of the oldest pubs in Tonbridge and in recent years has had rather a chequered history combined with lots of different owners.  It will be good if the new people make a go of it and I’m pretty certain they will, given their proven track-record elsewhere in the area. I’m looking forward to having a drink there, once the current restrictions are lifted, and finding out for myself.