The Black Horse - a welcome break along the Pilgrim's Way

The last time I set foot inside the Black Horse at Thurnham, was 35 years ago, when I lived in Maidstone. I was living with the previous Mrs Bailey at the time and with us both being fond of cosy country pubs, it was the sort of place for an equally cosy drink. With the Black Horse just a short, three-mile cycle ride away from the centre of the county town, it was easy to get to, and whilst the outward journey was largely uphill, the return one was a doddle.

According to Wikipedia, Thurnham is a village and civil parish with a population of 1,205 inhabitants, but it is quite a scattered village and I really am only familiar with the pub. During the first half of the 1980’s, when I was a frequent visitor, the Black Horse was a Whitbread pub and as such sold Fremlin’s Bitter, brewed in Faversham, alongside the stronger and more satisfying Tusker.

The latter was introduced as a stablemate to the former when, in an attempt to create a more local image,  Whitbread brought back the Fremlin’s name. Unfortuantely, Tusker (named after Fremlin’s much-loved elephant trade-mark), only stuck around for a few years before being discontinued. At the time though, the Black Horse kept a good pint of  both these locally brewed beers and was well worth cycling out to.

Fast forward 35 years when I was looking for somewhere to spend the night, that was close to the North Down’s Way. The Black Horse Inn jumped out at me, especially as it is situated less than a quarter of a mile from the NDW, and whilst it was slightly over half-way along the stretch I planned to walk, it still seemed ideal. Accommodation, in the form of several low-level, Kentish barn style buildings, has been constructed close to the original 18^th Century pub, so I made my booking, and eagerly waited for the day of my walk to arrive.

As written elsewhere, day one of my hike, saw me walking from Charing railway station; a distance of 13 miles. The initial two thirds of the walk was along the track known as the Pilgrims Way, and being at the foot of the North Downs ridge, was largely flat and firm underfoot. It was only after I’d left the village of Hollingbourne, where I’d stopped off at the local pub, for a well-earned pint of Harvey’s, that the ascent and the hard work really began.

In terms of spectacular views, the climb up onto the top of the escarpment was worth the effort, but there were several sections where I seemed to lose the trail completely. It wasn’t until I met a couple, out walking with their dog, that I discovered I was still on the right track – but not for much longer.

After telling the pair I was heading for the Black Horse, I was informed there was an easy way and a hard one.  The easy route was to follow the track I was currently on, down to the bottom, where there was a lane running at 90 degrees, in an east-west direction. By continuing west, along the lane, I would reach my destination, and bed for the night, in half an hour. The hard way was to climb back up onto the ridge, via the aptly named "Cat’s Mount" and then follow the steeply undulating official route of the NDW. It was described as hard work, and it would take at least an hour to reach the pub.

The choice was a no-brainer, as I was already tiring by this stage, and the thought of more climbing did not appeal at all. So, whilst some might view this as cheating, my response is I am not a “completist,” and my choice of the “easy route” was merely a continuance of the Pilgrims Way I’d been walking on for much of the day.

I was sore of foot, weary of limb and in need of a rest when I arrived at the Black Horse and made my way to Reception, which is situated in a building at the rear of the pub. I checked in and picked up the key to my room, which was in one of the aforementioned, barn-style buildings further down the hill. All rooms are named after wildflowers, with each group of buildings overlooking a grass courtyard area. It all seemed well organised, so after removing my muddy boots outside, and leaving then on the mat, I entered my comfortable and well-appointed room. 

First on the agenda was a cuppa tea, followed by a much-needed shower. Afterwards a quick phone call to advise Mrs PBT’s that I’d arrived in one piece and hadn’t fallen down a ravine, or been trampled by a herd of cows, despite walking through a field bearing a “Beware of the Bull” sign – yes, really, as I thought that sort of thing was illegal on a public right of way!

I then headed up to the pub, where I’d pre-booked a table for 7.30pm. I waited at the entrance, as instructed, but as I was staying at the hotel, there was no need for me to divulge further track and trace details. I was led to an area to the right and towards the rear of the pub, only managing a quick glimpse of the bar and the pump-clips as we passed through.

The interior is very old world, which is kind of how I remembered it after three and a half decades, but it was quite dimly lit. There are a number of alcove areas which were probably once separate rooms, but with the dividing walls now removed, and the supporting beams still in place, the pub has a nice, cosy and quite intimate feel to it. The design allowed a reasonable number of customers to be seated, without encroaching on each other's space.

So which beer should I drink? I’d noticed a Kent Brewery beer, as I was whisked past the bar, and also a Best Bitter of some description.  I think Doom Bar might also have been available, but we’re talking proper beer here. To take the guess work out of choosing, I asked the pleasant waitress which beers were available. I should perhaps have re-phrased that question, as which “ales” were on, but after running through the list, I opted for Old Dairy Blue Top, which is always a welcome sight in any Kentish pub.

Food-wise, I chose the steak, ale and mushroom suet pudding, with accompanying mash and seasonal veg. A high calorific option I grant you, but I felt in need of something substantial after my 13-mile hike! The food was first class, but I wasn’t quite so sure about the beer; it certainly didn’t taste like what I remember as Blue Top. When a male member of the waiting staff arrived to fetch me another beer, I enquired what else was available besides Old Dairy?

“Old Dairy isn’t available tonight sir,” was the reply. “We have Doom Bar, Longman Best, Wantsum Fortitude, plus a seasonal from Kent Brewery.” It dawned on me that I’d had the Longman – with a name to hang the taste on, this was a beer I recognised, but for my second, and final pint, I opted for the Wantsum.

It turned out as a good choice, darkish in colour, well balanced and eminently drinkable, but with my belly full, and my body weary, I was more than ready for my bed.  I paid my tab, and then hobbled slowly down the hill to my waiting room. After a quick coffee I slid into bed, turned off the light and drifted off into a deep, lengthy and much-needed sleep.

I was back inside the pub, the following morning, for a hearty full English breakfast, washed down with plenty of tea. I had a chat with the landlady before leaving, who was fine with me taking a few photos of the bar. After completing my packing, I departed just after hall nine, and headed up the hill to re-join the NDW for the second day of walking.  

My stay confirmed the resilience of the English pub, in spite of the raft of ever-changing restrictions being foisted on it by a government that doesn't know which was to turn next. More importantly, and from a personal point of view, it provided a most welcome and much needed break. Please don't call it a "circuit breaker," as I suspect we will all be sick of that phrase before long, but continuing the electrical analogy,  the walk and overnight stay was sufficient to re-charge my batteries, ready to face  the world again.

 

 

Two glorious days on the North Downs Way

With the days rapidly becoming shorter, and the clocks due to change at the end of the month, I thought it high time to get a couple more sections of the North Downs Way under my belt. In addition to shorter days, there was the ever-present chance that the weather would turn and, more importantly, the even greater danger that our hapless government would inflict even more misery upon an already beleaguered hospitality sector.

So, what better way to show support for our pubs and hotels, than to combine a couple of days walking, with an overnight stay at a fine old inn, with a few pints to be enjoyed along the way? I therefore treated myself to a couple of much needed days off from work and made my plans accordingly.

Until this afternoon, there was a glaring gap in my east-west progress along the NDW, that missing piece being the section between the village of Wye on the River Stour, and Blue Bell Hill – overlooking the Medway gap. I’d worked out that covering this gap would require three days walking, although I accept that faster walkers than me could probably complete the 27-mile section in two days.

That’s fine, I don’t do rushing at my age, preferring to take my time and enjoy both the walk and the scenery. And that is exactly what happened this Thursday and Friday, when I walked from Charing in East Kent to Kits Coty, just below Blue Bell Hill, in mid-Kent. I was lucky with the weather, with some glorious sunshine the first day, and although today (Friday) was rather overcast, the rain held off, allowing me to experience some of Kent’s finest scenery, at close hand.

With only two days at my disposal, it made sense to cover as much ground as possible, but I was also slightly hamstrung by the availability of suitable overnight accommodation and, more importantly its proximity to the NDW. There is little point in having to deviate from the trail by anything more than a couple of miles, as otherwise one is adding additional miles that could have been spent on the NDW itself.

I therefore chose the excellent Black Horse Inn at Thurnham as my overnight stop, even though the village of Hollingbourne, which is

equidistant between my start and finishing points, would have made more sense. As things turned out, a 13 mile stretch on the first day and then an eight mile hike on the second, was the right ways round to be doing things, and in addition, my stay at the Black Horse gave me just the break I was looking for, from the madness which is gripping the world today.

So with plenty to write about, and even more photos with which to whet your appetite, I’ll sign of now, finish my unpacking and jump under that shower before Mrs PBT’s confirms I smell like a pole cat, and that I’m sleeping in the summerhouse tonight!

Farmers market

After a visit to the opticians for a long overdue eye test on Sunday morning, I took a walk around Tonbridge Farmers Market. I’d expected to be in Specsavers for a lot longer, but after having been thoroughly confuses by the numerous options available – bifocals, varifocals or just long distance and reading glasses, I decided  to mull over the various choices first, and then make a subsequent appointment, where I can choose the frames, be fitted and then stump up the readies for whatever combination I decide to go for.

My indecision, however prudent, scuppered my plan for a return Sunday lunchtime visit to Fuggles, as even after walking around the farmers market and enjoying an excellent flat white coffee, there was still 30 minutes to wait before opening time.

I decided to head for home. There were a few jobs to finish off in the garden, and with the sun shining it seemed the ideal opportunity to crack on and get these outstanding tasks out of the way. I ended up spending the whole afternoon outside, and I must admit I really enjoyed being out in the fresh air, with the sun on my face and the wind in my hair.

Returning to the Famers Market for a moment, I’m pleased to report that trade appeared good, no doubt encouraged by the fine sunny weather. The market takes place on the second Sunday of each month, and after a hiatus due to the pandemic lockdown, reopened for business in June.

It was some time since I last paid a visit to the market, but several of the stalls seemed familiar. The Knife Ninja van was there; a service I have used on a couple of occasions to sharpen knives and a log-splitting axe. There was a different cider vendor there though, and I also noted the absence of the Hepworth’s Brewery van – source of bottles of  Hepworth's tasty and satisfying Old Ale in the run-up to Christmas, but there were still sufficient stalls to cater for most tastes.

There was also a good mix of browsers and buyers and, seeing as the market had been open since 9.30am, plenty of people about in general.  It did seem strange though to see most of them masked up – not that there’s any requirement to do so in the open air. I bought some veg, to add to the stew that Mrs PBT’s would be preparing that afternoon, before treating myself to the aforementioned and very satisfying flat white.

I retreated to a bench, overlooking the river to drink it, whilst musing on the fact that the Farmers Market has long surpassed the weekly general market, both in size and what it has to offer. This is in sharp contrast to the situation that existed when I first came to live in Tonbridge, 35 years ago.

Back then the town boasted a thriving Saturday market, which was an important feature locally, drawing in shoppers from both Tonbridge and the surrounding villages. The market was held on a compact site, just off Castle Street, in the centre of the old town, which had formerly hosted Tonbridge Cattle Market. In common with many neighbouring towns, the sale of livestock had long ceased by the time I moved to the area, closing in fact in 1971.

Despite the rather cramped site, the Saturday Market was a bustling and thriving place, packed each week with crowds eager for a bargain, and people keen to take advantage of the wide variety of different stalls. The site remained in the ownership of the Tonbridge Stock and Cattle Market Company until the first decade of the 21^st Century, when it was sold to developers Crest Nicholson who turned it into an area of mixed housing.

This left the Saturday Market looking for a new home, and it ended up leasing the drab and rather depressing station car park, adjacent to the rail tracks, in Vale Road.  Its uninspiring, wind-swept location did little to attract visitors, and the market began a long and painful decline. Today it is hanging on by its teeth, with just a handful of stalls, none of which appeal to me or, it seems, many local shoppers either.

It is for this reason that I am both pleased, and relieved, to see the Sunday Farmers Market continuing to thrive. I fully intend to support this venture, whenever I can, especially as one of the good things that has come out of lockdown is the renewed interest, and indeed renaissance in local businesses, plus locally sourced and grown products.

Green hop beers and the "Rule of Six"

Last Wednesday, I enjoyed an evening drink in a pub, for the first time since 6^th March, and that memorable Proper Day Out in Burton-on-Trent. I’ve obviously been in quite a few pubs since they were allowed to reopen, but all those visits have been either at lunchtime, or late afternoon, so my trip to the Nelson Arms represented my first evening trip in over six months.

The occasion was a friend’s birthday, and I was one of the five other friends who turned up. The table was booked in advance, and the invitations circulated amongst a select group of drinkers, drawn largely from our weekend walking WhatsApp group.

Landlord Matt had reserved us a table at the far end of the former public bar area of the pub, but with only a handful of other customers, the reservation might not strictly have been necessary. Still the “Rule of Six” states a maximum of six people in any one group, so being upstanding and compliant citizens, we were pleased to do our bit to keep the “R” rate down, even though it is still very low in this part of the country.

There were two other attractions at the Nelson that evening, apart from the opportunity of catching up with friends. The first was the range of “Green Hop” beers that Matt had got in, whilst the second was the pub’s own extension of the “Eat Out to Help Out” scheme. So, with some novel beers to try, and 50% off the food, what was not to like?

Several of the party were already seated when I arrived, so after a quick dollop of hand sanitiser, I was shown to the reserved table to join the rest of the company.  As is often the case these days, I didn’t get a chance to see what was on the pumps, but fortunately the beer selection was displayed on a printed menu left on the table.

Being a fan of Old Dairy beers, I opted for their Green Hop Challenger 4.0% abv. It was a pleasant, pale coloured beer with a slightly spicy aroma.  I didn’t get much in the way of hops though, and the same lack of humulus lupulus was evident in the second beer of the evening. North Down Green Hop 2020 is brewed using a Belgian yeast strain, so that rather distinctive taste that is characteristic of beers from that Lowland country, dominated the beer completely overpowering the hop content; green or otherwise.

Despite this, the beer went well with the Goan Beef Curry I ordered for my main (and only) course. The meal choices amongst the six of us, were split 4:2 between chilli con carné and the beef curry, so spice and heat were certainly the order of the day. My third and final beer of the evening – don’t forget, 10pm is chucking out time, was Wibbler’s Crafty Stoat, a fine 5.3% abv stout, based on an old brewery recipe from 1885.  As far as I know, this stout wasn’t a Green Hop beer either, but it was by far the best beer of the evening.

Before the evening drew to a close, Matt brought out a complimentary selection of cheeses, in honour of our friend’s birthday. There was also a small glass of port each, which regrettably I had to pass on. With an important audit at work the following morning, I needed to keep a clear head, so much as I enjoy this after diner drink, it would not have been a good idea on top of the beer.

The promotion of Green Hop beers at the Nelson, is being run in conjunction with the Beer Seller, in Tonbridge High Street, so there’s plenty of opportunity over the next few weeks, to find some not only to my taste, but some that actually contain hops – green or otherwise! The whole green hop thing seems rather low key this year. Perhaps not surprising, given the current situation, but also disappointing as what had become an annul trip to Canterbury, to enjoy the Green Hop beers showcased at the city’s Food & Drink Festival, didn’t take place.

This brings me onto the topic which still seems on every newspaper and TV news editor’s mind; that pesky Corona virus. They don’t appear to have got the message that most of us are fed up to the back teeth with “R” rates, contact tracing and number of infections per 100,0000, but like spoiled brats pleased that their self-fulfilling prophesy appears to be coming true, the media seem determined to keep Corona at the top of their agenda.

The dreaded Covid, did crop up from time to time during the evening’s conversation., but with two well-qualified scientists amongst out number, it was a sensible and rational discussion that ensued. Various clipping from “Private Eye” were also circulated amongst us, poking fun at the government’s mishandling of the situation and the absurdity of some of the new rules and regulations.

The one that puzzles me the most is boy Hancock’s “Rule of Six.” There were six of seated around the table last Wednesday evening, which is in full compliance of Hancock’s most recent edict, which is fine until you consider that all six of us were from separate households. I was sat close to two of my friends, and definitely not two metres away. In addition, I was directly facing the two people sat opposite me.  

So how does this work when I’m expected to maintain a social distance from my work colleagues, even though I am in contact with them five days a week, but can get up close to friends who I see far less often? I’m quite relaxed about the whole thing, but don’t Johnson, Hancock, Shitty Whitty and the rest of the control freaks who seem determined to inflict yet more misery on our lives, see the absurdity of the whole thing?

We left the pub just before the now statutory 10pm closing time, because that’s when the Corona virus comes out to play. Despite the madness that has afflicted government and large swathes of the general population, it was good to catch up with old friends, and spend it in the company of those who haven’t lost their marbles and whose conversation is interesting, thoughtful and at times highly amusing.

 

Partizan at Fuggles

After my “virtuous” start to the weekend, I was itching to get out of the house on Sunday. Fortunately, I’d finished my planned outdoor work the day before, but with the seemingly incessant rain falling outside, chances of escape seemed minimal.

The weather did show slight signs of clearing, shortly after midday, so I finished what I was doing computer-wise, sorted out some suitable outdoor gear, and announced to Mrs PBT’s that I was going for a wander down into Tonbridge.

She knew what I had in mind – how could she not after being married to me for 35 years, so her passing shots were don’t forget your hand gel or your mask! I was, of course, making my way to a house of refreshment, although I also had a few items of shopping to pick up – bottles of Fuller’s London Porter, on offer at Waitrose.

I took an umbrella with me, but there was insufficient rain to warrant putting it up. Instead my raincoat did a good job of keeping me dry. I called in briefly at son Matthew’s shop, just to say hello and check what time he was finishing at. Trade had been slack, hardly surprising given the weather and I reflected on this as I made my way up the High Street.

Fuggles Beer Café was my destination in what would be my first visit since before lock-down. According to their website, Fuggles encourages visitors to book in advance, although they will accept “walk-ins” if there is sufficient space available. At one o’clock on a wet Sunday afternoon, there was ample space available, as I noticed whilst queuing at the designated spot at the side of the bar.

I was shown to a vacant table with a good view of the bar – important for those who like to know what they are drinking. I needn’t have worried though, as there was a printed beer and snacks menu thoughtfully placed on every table, along with a bottle of hand sanitiser.

When the friendly young barman strolled over to take my details, and beer order, I apologised for not having downloaded the pub app, or indeed any track and trace app. “No problem,” the man said, and took a note of my name and contact details manually. As for the beer, I went for something a little different.

Partizan Porter took my fancy, keg, but who cares? Now I am no longer a CAMRA member and constrained by feeling obliged to choose cask over everything else, I can no drink what ever I like, and I have to say that this 5.4% abv porter was a real treat. Smooth and dry with coffee and milk chocolate notes (according to the blurb), this fine example of a traditional London porter slipped down a treat.

In my experience, darker beers are far less affected by the kegging process than the paler ones, and I really enjoyed this one. I’d have scored it at 4.5 NBSS if it had been allowed under CAMRA’s rules, which shows how increasingly blurred the distinction between cask and keg has become.

There was a nice and relaxed atmosphere in Fuggles that afternoon; the pub wasn’t particularly full, and there were still several unoccupied tables, but there was enough social interaction and the resultant hum of voices to generate that familiar background pub sound.  

As I said, this was my first visit to Fuggles since before lockdown. Neither of the company’s two outlets re-opened on 4^th July, as owner Alex Greig wanted to see first how other pubs and bars fared under the new regime. He also wanted to ensure that the correct modifications and procedures were all in place, before opening Fuggles back up to drinkers.

As things turns out, the Tonbridge Fuggles opened before its sister outlet in Tunbridge Wells, and now, having been in and seen for myself exactly what measure have been put in place, I have to say I am impressed. The staff were all very pleasant and seemed well drilled in what was necessary to provide a safe, but still welcoming environment. 

 I witnessed tables being cleared and sanitised as customers departed and I noticed the handrail to the stairs, leading down to the toilets, was also wiped with sanitiser at regular intervals. It is this sort of attention to detail that I found commendable and it is the sort of thing needed to persuade nervous people like Mrs PBT’s, that it is safe to return to the pubs – or some pubs, at least.

So, despite a rather brief visit, it was a very pleasant one, which for me, was the ideal way to spend 40 minutes or so on a wet Sunday afternoon. Despite being tempted to have another, one pint of a 5.4% beer was enough, and switching to an alternative might well have left me with something not quite as enjoyable as that Partizan Porter.  

As the nights start drawing in, and the weather becomes less conducive to outdoor work,  I may well find myself making the odd Sunday afternoon trip in Fuggles direction.

 

A beer for sharing?

A beer for sharing, according to the label, and with an abv of 8.0%, and a bottle size of 750ml, that’s wise advice. A wine sized bottle of strong beer probably shouldn’t be drank alone; at least not in one session. I can’t even remember where I picked this one up, although I’m guessing either Tesco or Waitrose, but Birra Moretti Grani Antichi, obviously caught my interest, and was probably on special offer.

Grani Antichi is a full bodied, amber-coloured beer with a rich malty base. Because of its strength, the alcohol comes across in the taste, and whilst not dominating the underlying toffee-maltiness, is an ever-present factor in the make up of the beer. My Italian isn’t up to much, but even without Google Translate, “Birra ad alta fermentazione,” indicates to me that this is a "top-fermented," ale-style beer. It certainly tastes like one!

So, with its rich maltiness and high alcoholic strength, this is definitely a sharing beer, which is why with only me drinking it, I re-capped the bottle after consuming roughly half the contents and enjoyed the beer over a two-day period. If anything, the beer tasted better on the second day, possibly because it had been exposed to oxygen in the air for 24 hours. It works with wine, so why not beer?

Birra Moretti started out as a family-owned Italian brewery but are now part of the multi-national Heineken group. Birra Moretti is an instantly recognisable brand of course, thanks to the image of the moustached man in the hat, enjoying a tankard of the company's beer. The main brand, Birra Moretti – L’Autentica 4.6%.  has been available in Britain for some time and is still brewed to the recipe that was created by founder, Luigi Moretti.

It is a smooth, full bodied beer, brewed with a blend of high-quality hops, to create a satisfying beer with a full malt base, balanced by some delicate citrus notes. In short, it is an easy-drinking, light-lager style, “quaffing beer”, and one which I am not at all averse to enjoying from time to time.

Until quite recently, Italy was not known as a beer drinking nation, mainly because the country produces some excellent wines, which Italians tend to prefer to beer. Prior to the advent of the now flourishing “craft beer” scene, Italian beer was almost exclusively of the light lager type.

A few years ago, a couple of beers inspired by the culinary traditions of Italy’s many regions found their way into the UK market. I tried two of them, Alla Toscana 5.5%. and Alla Siciliana 5.8%, from Tuscany and Sicily of course. They were pleasant enough beers, and I reviewed them here, but as I said at the time, with no real tradition of beer brewing, particularly in southern Italy, these “regional” Moretti beers were all contrived.

Nevertheless, they represented an attempt to move away from the easy-drinking, light-lager style normally associated with the country. As for Birra Moretti Grani Antichi, I am not sure of its provenance, its background or the marketing behind it, especially here in the UK.

I sometimes enjoy a small glass of old ale or barley wine, particularly during spells of cold weather, but a beer of this strength, served up in a wine-size bottle, just didn’t seem right. There is nothing wrong with the formulation of this beer, or the way it has been brewed, but If truth be known, I found it far too strong, cloying in taste and lacking the refreshing qualities normally associated with beer, although there might be others who will rave over it.

 

Feeling virtuous

I’m feeling quite virtuous although I’m not entirely sure I should. However, there are times when, after having completed a task that’s been outstanding for a long while, or you’ve accomplished something and are feeling pretty pleased about it, there is nothing wrong with feeling a bit smug.

Mrs PBT’s and I had a long lie in on Saturday morning. We both felt we deserved it, and I certainly needed it, as I haven’t been sleeping too good of late. Something to do with having a few conflicting issues to resolve at work, including covering for a much-missed colleague who felt he had to move on to pastures new.

On Friday night though, I slept like the proverbial log and after surfacing mid-morning we both enjoyed a late breakfast of French toast. Later on, we drove over to the large Tesco superstore at Riverhead, just to the north of Sevenoaks to do some shopping. The store was busier than we would have liked, but with shoppers and store workers all masked up, neither of us felt uncomfortable – apart from having to wear the wretched face coverings, that is.

The virtuous stuff started when we arrive back home, although I’d put the wheels in motion for some of it, a week or so earlier. I’ve always been reluctant to switch energy supplier, especially given the fact that whilst you might get a better deal initially, what happens in subsequent years? Do you need to switch again and again, as all this chopping and changing is not only a faff, it’s also rather time consuming.

This was where the heavily promoted “Look after my Bills” website, came to the rescue. First floated on TV's “Dragons’ Den,” the idea had universal support from all the entrepreneurial “Dragons” that make up the team. This was something of a first, and with my interest sparked I bit the bullet and took the plunge.

The whole process was relatively straight forward, and apart from submitting a couple of meter readings, along with details of current energy suppliers, I am now signed up with a supplier that is offering me dual gas and electricity supply, with a monthly saving of £30. “Look after my Bills” will follow the same process next year, in order to find me the best deal on my energy supplies.

Feeling on a role, I proceeded with a quote received a month or so ago, which will save me £20 a month on home insurance (building and contents), so whilst more time consuming than the energy switch, it was still worth the time I’d put in. With retirement getting closer by the month, every little helps, and £50 a month is not to be sniffed at!

Back to the home front. Last week I dug over approximately two-thirds of our cottage garden wildflower area. It wasn’t the riot of colour we were treated to last year, in fact Mrs PBT’s believes she was sold a pup. Unable, due to lockdown, to access B&M, the source of last year’s wildflower seeds, she bought a rather expensive variety pack online.  Even though I’m sorely tempted, I won’t name the company for legal reasons, but when the pack arrived, I should have smelt a rat.

Now I’m no horticulturalist, but I do know that the genus Festuca denotes different types of grasses, and whilst the pack claimed to contain 19 other plant species, what eventually popped up was largely a mix of grasses, plus some unattractive, tall and spiky plants; "weeds," for want of a better description! There was no sign of the poppies, white campion or even the clovers listed on the pack.

Whether this was due to poor germination – April and May were exceptionally dry if you remember, or just poor harvesting on the part of the seed supplier is unknown, but the company responsible landed us with nothing more than a large and rather unattractive patch of weeds.

They’re all gone now, dug up and dumped in our garden waste bin, awaiting collection by the local authority where they’ll be turned into compost but, after heavy overnight rain, yesterday afternoon’s digging was considerably harder than the previous week’s, and I’m certainly feeling it afterwards.

The main thing is the task is complete and the weather is now doing its worst. This brings me on to the internet and other online tasks I went through yesterday evening. The first of these was to review my Blog List, which details all the many blogs I follow.

The list has steadily evolved over the years, but I review it every so often, to prevent it from becoming too large and cumbersome. It has grown, because I regularly add new blogs which catch my eye and spark my interest. Nearly all are beer related, although the list also includes a gardening/drinking blog, plus one dedicated to walking (another interest of mine).

Conversely there are blogs which, for a variety of reasons, have become moribund.  The owner/writer might have lost interest, moved on to a different niche, their work-life balance may have changed or perhaps they’ve undergone some life-changing event. Over the years I have noticed a fair number of female bloggers who, quite understandably, have discovered that starting a family, leaves very little time for writing, or indeed for visits to the pub, but I’m certain that some of the other reasons listed above, apply equally.

I tend to leave “slumbering” blogs for at least six months before culling them, and there have been cases where I have reinstated a few that have made a sudden reappearance. In such instances, my blog list becomes rather like a revolving door. (I am currently mulling over whether to reinstate Cooking Lager’s blog for the third time.)

Finally, I found time last night to post some topical comments on some of the blogs I follow. This is good etiquette and good manners. All bloggers, me included, appreciate seeing comments appear in relation to posts written. Whether the correspondents agree, or disagree with what is being said is immaterial, as all feedback is good – unless it is insulting, totally off-topic or trolling.

I don’t always get the time to comment as much as I’d like, so yesterday I made time, and I trust that the comments I made will add to the subject or topic raised and will encourage further debate. Those writers who see comments from me, suddenly appearing on their blogs will know what I am referring to but will also understand the time restraints which prevent many of us from contributing as much, or as frequently as we might otherwise like.