Hey, Hey, LBJ.............

Oaky, not the opening line of a 1960’s anti-Vietnam war chant, but a brief report on a quick pint, enjoyed in the garden of the nearest pub to my place of work. The Little Brown Jug (LBJ), is less than 10 minutes’ walk from our factory. The pub re-opened for business shortly after the Corona-virus restrictions were relaxed on 4^th July.

I walk past the LBJ most days, on my lunchtime walk, and had watched the preparations the staff were making, in advance of re-opening, with interest. Sometimes one or two of them would wave, or even shout hello, whilst working on the extensive garden at the side of the pub, including a rather attractive young lady wearing the skimpiest of bikinis. This happened on more than one occasion!

If you’ve got it, why not flaunt it, I suppose; I certainly wasn’t complaining, even though I will probably fall foul of the PC brigade for saying so.  I mentioned what I’d seen to one of the girls at work, who happens to live in the village. I’m treading on very dangerous ground here, but women can sometimes be quite catty about other women, so my colleague's remark that “she’s always exposing her flesh” didn’t come as a huge surprise.

What did, was the knowledge that this attractive and very pretty girl used to be in the Channel Four soap opera Hollyoaks. Now that means virtually nothing to me as, hand on heart, I can honestly say I’ve never seen even a glimpse of Hollyoaks, but I did wonder what had brought this former actress to be working a pub, in a small Kentish village.

That’s quite enough of soaps and scantily clad young ladies, even though I know no-one is going to believe that she wasn’t my reason for calling in at the LBJ this lunchtime. For the record, I didn’t set eyes on her, so perhaps it was her day off, but getting back on subject the pub appears to be doing well and I enjoyed an excellent pint of beer.

Having walked past the pub on several occasions since it re-opened, I sort of knew the score. Queue up outside to the left, if you’ve made a prior booking, or is you’re a casual visitor, like me, queue up to the right. I did as instructed, making sure that the barman had noticed me.  I was then approached by one of the waiting staff and asked to fill in my contact details.

My offer of a business card was declined – silly really as it contains all my details. The pub would soon know that I work just down the road for the largest employer in Chiddingstone Causeway, but perhaps it was me just being lazy. Details duly handed over, the waitress led me inside the pub, explained the one-way system and then, as I’d indicated I wanted to sit outside, showed me to a table in the garden.

On our way through the bar, I clocked the presence of Timothy Taylor’s Landlord, alongside local stalwart, Larkin’s Traditional. Once seated I ordered a pint of Landlord, which another waitress brought out to me on a tray, along with a hand-held card-machine. Being outside the latter had difficulty connecting to the Wi-Fi, but eventually it accepted my payment of £4.90 – ouch!

The LBJ has a reputation for being pricey, so perhaps I should have expected a five-pound pint, but I have to say the Landlord was in tip-top condition, and definitely worthy of a 3.5 NBSS. The only thing I will say is that possibly the beer is not quite the benchmark pint is used to me, but nevertheless full marks to the pub for looking after it so well.

It wasn’t quite the “quick pint” I referred to at the beginning of this piece; instead I savoured it whilst enjoying sitting out in the garden, under the shade of an overhanging tree.  There were plenty of diners and “ladies that lunch” sitting outside as well and with car park that was almost full, I concluded the pub must be doing something right.

It deserves to be a success; especially given the work the staff have put into getting the place compliant with the new guidelines.  I include our bikini-clad actress amongst the others, of course. Perhaps she might be there waiting to serve me, next time I call in!

Back on the trail again

As regular readers will know, I’ve been attempting to walk the entire length of the North Downs Way. Although not as well-known as some of England’s long-distance footpaths, it’s still a trail that is well worth completing.  It’s true to say that it mirrors the more famous South Downs Way, and whilst it does have the disadvantage of, at times,  passing the southern periphery of the capital, by adhering largely to the line of chalkland uplands, it winds its way from west to east through some scenic and, at times, quite spectacular countryside.

Eleven years ago, a friend and I completed the South Downs Way. We did this in three stages, spread out over a couple of years, following the route westwards from Eastbourne in Sussex, to the end of the trail in the Hampshire city of Winchester.

I have adopted a rather different approach towards the NDW; a situation that arose because I had no intention to start with, of walking this trail in its entirety. Back in the summer of 2017, I joined a small group of friends in accompanying a member of our loose-knit walking group on what proved to be the final stages of the NDW. This keen rambler had been walking the trail in stages, spread out over two or three years.

He’d began his walk in Farnham, where the NDW commences, and had slowly been heading east. As he edged nearer to completion of the walk, in Dover, he’d been joined on several stages by one or two other keen walkers, and this is where I came in. So, in July 2017, I accompanied this small informal group on two stretches of what is known as the “Canterbury Loop,” of the NDW.

These sections were from Wye to Chartham and from Shepherdswell to Dover. Because I enjoyed both walks, the idea of perhaps walking the NDW in its entirety, slowly formed in my head. That plan was reinforced when I received an A-Z Guide, mapping out the trail, in my Christmas stocking.

It didn’t take long before this plan hit a stumbling block, following the hospitalisation of Mrs PBT’s at the start of 2018. I nearly lost her to a bout of pneumonia which developed into sepsis, and what followed was a spell in ICU and then a lengthy period of recovery and recuperation.  Thoughts of walking any stretches of the NDW went out the window, and it wasn’t until the following year, that I was able to put my plans for this long-distance trail back into action.

I completed the Canterbury loop in July 2019, during a three-day spell involving two overnight stops. The intention then was to turn westward and head off towards Farnham, but it wasn’t until January of this year that I was able to get another section under my belt. This stretch was from Otford to Wrotham, and part of this section was a walk with the same informal group of walkers to the unspoilt Rising Sun, at Cotman’s Ash, high on the North Downs above Kemsing.

And then along came Coronavirus. Talk about a double whammy, it was almost as if events were conspiring against me ever completing the NDW! I did manage a further two sections during lock-down, but these were, of necessity, very short, so it was with some excitement that I set off early on Friday morning to walk a much longer stretch.

My aim was to walk to Cuxton, just below the crossing of the River Medway, from the bus stop at the top of Vigo Hill on the A227. This was the point I’d walked to from Wrotham with son Matthew, back in June, and carrying on to Cuxton would mean completing an unbroken stretch 17-mile section of the NDW leading west to Dunton Green, just to the north of Sevenoaks.

With fair weather forecast and with public transport options available at either end of the walk, I set off in good spirits, pleased to be back on the trail and escaping the claustrophobic confinement of Coronavirus lock-down. After travelling by bus from Tonbridge, and swapping services at Sevenoaks, I arrived at the bus stop opposite the sadly closed Vigo Inn. This was to serve as my starting point, but before going further it’s worth mentioning I was one of only two passengers on both buses – so what was the point of wearing a mask?

I was glad to remove the wretched thing as I stepped off the bus, relieved to be breathing freely again, and after crossing the busy A227 with care, headed off towards Trosley Country Park. This 170-acre area of woodland and chalk downland, was once part of the Trosley Tower Estate. Today it is managed by Kent County Council and is a popular with dog walkers, families and all who appreciate an unspoilt area of downland.

I certainly encountered plenty of dog walkers as I walked through the woods that run parallel with the top of the ridge, but after leaving the country park, and dropping down off the ridge by means of a steeply descending path, I saw very few other people afterwards. This was apart from two riders on horseback, who loomed large through the gloom of the woods. I must admit they scared the cr*p out of me for those few moments it took for my eyes to properly focus on what was coming towards me.

No need to be scared, of course, as they were two very pleasant ladies and their horses seemed docile enough too, but I’m sure there is some deep-rooted, primeval fear in many of us, about walking alone through a darkened wood. Tales from childhood, about wolves, witches and giants, designed to frighten the children and keep them quiet, obviously worked; although the original intentions may have been to prevent youngsters from straying off into the woods and becoming lost, rather than anything more sinister.

The people who piece together long-distance trails, have to strike a balance between following existing rights of way, the need to avoid private land and steering clear of built-up areas and major roads. This sometimes means descending from high ground for a while before climbing back up onto a ridge, or escarpment.

On open downland, such as much of the South Downs Way, there is little need for this – much to the relief of walkers like me, who dislike what seems like unnecessary effort. Given the more enclosed nature of much of the NDW, this losing and the re-gaining of height is much more common, and this was the situation I encountered several times during Friday’s walk.

So, after a quite lengthy stretch at the foot of the escarpment, along the Pilgrim’s Way, it was back up to the summit before heading north towards the area around Holly Hill. En route I passed Holly Hill Lodge and eventually Holly Hill House, but this stretch really was one of the most pleasant sections of the entire walk.  I stopped for a brief chat with the postman, whose van seemed to be following me along the lane, but soon after I passed into Greatpark Wood, followed by a whole series of other named “woods.”

According to my guidebook, these areas of woodland collectively make up Rochester Forest, and for much of the rest of the route, I was walking beneath trees – mainly beech if what I learned during my Boy Scout days was correct. The trees provided much needed shade for the fierceness of the midday sun, but they also acted as a windbreak. Consequently, with no refreshing breezes to cool things down, it did feel a little stuffy at times.

Fortunately, I’d brought plenty of water with me, as well as something to eat, and shortly before 1pm I chanced upon somewhere I could sit and enjoy my packed lunch. In a small clearing, at the junction of three paths, was a nice, solid-looking wooden bench, thoughtfully placed in memory of George Fuller, with an additional smaller plaque added (probably at a later date), in memory of his friend Colin Holman.

I always think such benches are a touching way for families to remember loved ones. There are quite a few of them dotted around Tonbridge Sportsground, and following the passing of our friend Eddie, last autumn, his widow had a bench placed in nearby Haysden Country Park, overlooking the lake. I was certainly appreciative of George Fuller’s family for providing somewhere comfortable for me to sit and enjoy my filled rolls.

More woodland followed, until eventually the path left the trees behind and with a dramatic change of scenery, I found myself in open countryside. The path led down into a steep valley, with an equally steep ascent on the other side. There was one further area of woodland to traverse before reaching the tint settlement of Upper Bush.

The road leading into Cuxton, beckoned ahead and whilst I was tempted to continue along the NDW for a further mile, and then approach the village from the north, I decided that discretion was definitely the best part of valour. My feet were starting to ache and a look at my Smart Watch indicated I had already covered ten and a half miles. This was a mile and a half further than I’d calculated from the map, so with this in mind, I turned right into Bush Road and headed into Cuxton.

It was a further mile until I reached the station, and whilst I was sorely tempted to call in at the nearby White Hart pub, my watch told me there wasn’t enough time before the train. There is only an hourly service running at present along the Medway Valley Line, but this does have the advantage of being a direct train to Tonbridge. I made my way to the station, located the ticket machine and then sat, waiting for the train to arrive, on a very uncomfortable metal seat, in the shade of the platform shelter.

The train was on time, and the air-conditioning was running. I had enough water to last the journey back to Tonbridge, where I would go and treat myself to a pint. The three-carriage train was more crowded than I expected, but still had plenty of room for social distancing. Not everyone was wearing masks though; the chief culprits being the youngsters. I wasn’t too bothered about this, but if I had been there were no railway staff visible, let alone willing, to enforce the regulation.

More to the point, there was no-one checking tickets and I suspect that virtually no revenue checks have been carried out these past four months. I can’t really blame the train crew for this, as confronting fare dodgers is fraught enough during normal times. You can just imagine, during the current pandemic, some little scrote threatening to cough or spit at the ticket inspector, to understand this reluctance, even if it does amount to a fare dodger’s charter!

I enjoyed the journey back to Tonbridge, as the train travelled along the Medway Valley. As we departed from Aylesford, the river changed from being tidal in nature, to that of a more peaceful and tranquil waterway, enjoyed by fishermen and boating enthusiasts in equal measure.

If you’ve read the previous post, you’ll know that once the train had reached Tonbridge, I called in at the Forester’s Arms for a well-earned pint of Whitstable Bay. It hardly touched the sides, but that’s another story!

A thirst-quenching pint at the end of a long walk

There are three things I want to blog about. They all happened yesterday, they’re all firsts and they’re all interlinked but, as is often the way of things, I want to start with the last of these three items, first.

OK, the three firsts are, I used public transport for the first time since March (my trip to Burton with members from the Beer & Pubs Forum). I walked a further section of the North Downs Way; through countryside I’d never stet foot in until today. Finally, I called in at a well-known Tonbridge pub for the first time since it reopened for business, following its enforced closure.

I’m starting with the pub chiefly because it served up a really memorable pint, which was just what I needed after a lengthy, and very dry walk. There were no pubs on, or even near the stretch of NDW that I’d decided to follow today. The route from the top of Vigo Hill along to Cuxton took me through plenty of attractive and quite varied countryside, but with no villages or even small settlements close by, there wasn’t a public house anywhere in site.

So, after a train journey home, along the scenic Medway Valley Line, I was gagging for a pint by the time I arrived back in Tonbridge.  It’s worth mentioning that my intention had been to call in at the White Hart, just along from Cuxton station, but the timings weren’t right, and there was insufficient time before the departure of my train.

So, Tonbridge it was, and the most convenient pub on my route home was the Forester’s Arms in Quarry Hill. After a walk of over 11 miles, my legs had stiffened up considerably during the train journey home, so it was a slow amble, rather than a brisk march up from the station to the awaiting pub.

The Forester’s is a Shepherd Neame pub that I have known for a long time. Before we moved to our current property, it was our nearest pub and in pre-child days, Mrs PBT’s and I would sometimes enjoy an evening there. The pub went through a rough patch and had a reputation as a place to avoid, but all that changed in 2015 when Tyson Marshall took over as landlord. I’d known Tyson from his time as manager of the Little Brown Jug in Chiddingstone Causeway – the village where I work, so it was good to see him taking charge at the Forester’s.

He transformed the place, adding in a touch of Australia – his home country, whilst at the same time turning the Forester’s into a pleasant and laid-back drinking environment. I’d enjoyed several pre-lockdown visits, and found the beer, the atmosphere and the food – homemade pizza, to be first class, so I was delighted to see that the pub had reopened.

Mrs PBT’s had been watching developments on the pub’s Facebook page, so I knew a little of what to expect when I rocked up, shortly after 4pm. There were a couple of girls sat outside, but before making my way into the pub, I stopped at the door next to the table with the obligatory hand-sanitiser and record-keeping book. 

I was approached by the barman who invited me in, explaining that it was table-service only. I kind of expected this, so after showing me to a vacant table, next to the window, I was asked what I wanted to drink.  I’d already scanned the hand pulls on entry and noted the presence of Whitstable Bay Pale Ale. This is definitely one of Shepherd Neame’s better ales, by a long shot, so for me it was the obvious choice. After asking if I wanted a straight or a jug (straight, of course), the barman brought my pint over, along with the card machine for contact-less payment.

The price was the only real shock, coming in at £4.30, but I have noticed all post-lockdown pints coming in at around this level. I was so thirsty, that didn’t really care, especially as my pint was so good. I would gladly have paid more, for this cool, clear refreshing pint that slipped down a treat. If I was still able to submit beer scores, I would have given it a 4.0 NBSS. I was sorely tempted to have another, but I’d promised to collect Matthew from work and would therefore be driving later on.

Before leaving, I looked around at the other customers enjoying the pub. They included a group of women, who seemed to be from the same family, along with a handful of smaller groups, all enjoying the pub’s relaxed atmosphere. Tyson popped over to say hello, and in answer to my question told me things were going well.

I said it was good to see the Forester’s open again, and told him that I’d be back – which of course I will. So, I found my third post-lockdown pub performing well, having adapted almost seamlessly to the new system. With this in mind I am keen to explore a few more!