Getting back in the groove

After an almost unprecedented gap of over a week, I thought I had better post something, just to let people know I am still here, haven’t signed the pledge or joined the Foreign Legion. As might have been guessed from my last post, I’ve been feeling rather sad and depressed over recent events in the world, and whilst I’m well aware that “shit happens,” this current “unpleasantness” in Ukraine is just what we don’t need – especially coming hot on the heels of Covid.

I’ve been keeping myself busy on various house and garden projects, including the ongoing revamp of the greenhouse, and the installation of spur to repair a damaged rotten fence post. All pretty mundane, but thanks to Storm Eunice, and probably several preceding storms as well, the repair was both necessary and essential to prevent further damage.

On the plus side, and it is a huge plus, I enjoyed an excellent day out in Bath on Friday, just gone, renewing my acquaintance with the city and a few of its pubs. Thirty-plus years is far too long a gap to leave when visiting a place which not only has some beautiful buildings, but also some amazing pubs.

You can read all about my trip once I have finished writing it up, but spoiler alert, I haven’t even downloaded the photos off my phone, let alone started typing up the article. There is however, a quite lengthy article that is virtually complete, and it’s one I wrote primarily to cheer myself up during this rather depressing time.

There has also been the small matter of a cruise to re-arrange, although it has to be said that our scheduled 16-night voyage around the Baltic had been cancelled sometime before Putin’s tanks rolled across the Ukrainian border. This was because Queen Victoria, the vessel we were due to sail on, was spending longer in the Bahamas, due to the availability of a suitable dry-dock.

We had toyed with the possibility of a different Baltic cruise at a slightly later date, again taking in St Petersburg, but as that was obviously not going to happen, opted for the Norwegian fjords instead. Far enough away from the Russian Bear, although close enough if the map you look at, extends up beyond the Arctic Circle!

Back on the home front, I splashed out on a case of 48 cans of “Craft Beer” from Flavourly. They’ve been pestering me regularly, ever since ordering a few cases during the first lock-down, so having the choice of something novel and interesting to enjoy with my evening meal, or to drink whilst I type away on the keyboards, broke down my resistance.

DPD chose the only day of the week when Mrs PBT’s works away from home, to deliver my case, which meant I had to pick I up from a local shop. This wasn’t a problem, apart from the weight, so much so that the chap behind the counter of our local Londis, asked me if the box contained bricks!

All joking side it should satisfy my beer wants for several weeks to come, whilst doing my bit to help small breweries. “What about the pubs, though?” I hear you say, well I am doing my best on the days off from work that aren’t purloined by Mrs PBT’s, for visiting family, or other non-beer and pub-related expeditions!

I do have to say though, that although I have drunk some pretty amazing beers over recent weeks at home, it is not the same as drinking something slightly less unique, but equally tasty in a local pub. With this in mind, I headed out this afternoon for a brisk walk, designed to blow the cobwebs away, followed by a brief visit to my nearest pub.

The pub in question was the Vauxhall Inn, a Chef & Brewer establishment, adjacent to one of two Premier Inns in Tonbridge. I am happy to report that I was pleasantly surprised, and what I found dispelled all my pre-conceptions. Full report to following due course!

What on earth is going on?

I’ve been somewhat lacking in inspiration this week, which given the events in Ukraine over the past 10 days, is not really surprising. In their regular weekly round-up, veteran bloggers, Boak & Bailey, said pretty much the same thing, stating that, “It feels like a strange time to be thinking about beer with the Russian invasion of Ukraine still underway.” It certainly does, and it’s almost as if by allowing a despot and a tyrant to flourish in Russia, we have failed to learn the lessons of history.  

As a person who was born just 10 years after the end of the most devastating and cataclysmic war the world had ever seen, recent events are not only deeply disturbing, but they are also of major concern. I was seven years old when the United States and the Soviet Union faced each other in a tense stand-off over missiles, equipped with nuclear warheads, stationed in Cuba – just 90 miles from the coast of Florida. I was too young of course, to know what was going on, but I’m sure it must have been a worrying time for my parents, along with the rest of the world.

We now have a situation where the paranoia of one increasingly isolated and unstable man, is allowing the totally unwarranted attack and full-scale invasion of a neighbouring state. A country which has no quarrel with Russia, and one which poses no threat to it either. Instead, Ukraine is facing death and destruction on a scale not seen in Europe since the Second World War, and all because of the insecurity and gross miscalculations of one man.

How on earth did we come to this, especially following hot on the heels of Covid? Hasn’t the world suffered enough Mr Putin, without you inflicting yet more misery on the planet? Fortunately, Putin’s crazed aggression has been met with a concerted, and almost unprecedented show of unity by the rest of the world, with even China – the Kremlin's new-found ally, holding back any support for Russia.

Feeling the need to do our bit, and show solidarity with the people of Ukraine, Mrs PBT’s and I, joined the “Stand in Unison with Ukraine” event, held at Tonbridge Castle. On a cold and damp March midday, we stood in a circle, with a hundred or so fellow Tonbridge residents, listening to stories from people forced to flee their homes, and from others with loved ones, still trapped in Ukraine and desperately worried about their safety.

A small effort perhaps, and some might say a token one, but for those attending it was important, and it meant something. I don’t know where we go from here, apart from saying that as someone who grew up during a time when memories of the previous devastating conflict were still fresh in people’s minds, I never expected to be seeing war breaking out, once again on the European mainland.

The dragon roars again

 

It’s always good to see a closed pub come back from the dead, especially after the two, very tough years endured by the licensed trade, due to Covid. The pub I’m going to write about here though, had closed prior to the pandemic, and the encouraging thing is its new owners made full use of the time when pubs were not allowed to trade, to carry out a complete renovation and restoration of the pub in question.

The pub in question, is the George & Dragon at Tudeley, although for the pedants amongst us, the pub is actually between the villages of Tudeley and Five Oak Green, on a bend of the busy B2017. It’s an attractive weather-boarded pub, and one that I have been familiar with since moving to Tonbridge, 37 years ago. Despite this familiarity, it is not a pub I have visited that often, partly because it is not the easiest pub to get to on foot, but also because it has been overshadowed somewhat by the Dovecote Inn, at nearby Capel, as a destination, when cross-country walks out from Tonbridge, were being considered.

The George & Dragon dates from the 15th century and has the typical low ceilings and inglenook fireplaces that one might expect from a building of this age. It is located in some attractive countryside, next to a stream and surrounded by orchards. When I first moved to Tonbridge the pub was a Courage house (remember them?), but a decade or so later, it passed into the hands of Greene King. This was at the time when the latter first acquired a presence in Kent, following the purchase of pubs from the likes of Allied Breweries and Courage. Apart from the beer, nothing much changed.

Fifteen years, and several jobs later, the company I was working for at the time held their annual staff Christmas party at the George & Dragon, and from memory the Greene King beers were very good, as was the food. As alluded to above, visits to the George & Dragon, were fairly infrequent, and prior to my most recent one – at the end of January, this year, the last time I recall setting foot in the pub, was in April 2015, whilst walking back with a group of friends from a visit to the aforementioned Dovecote.

I wrote about that visit briefly, on the blog, which is why I was able to establish the date, and I reported that I was pleased to discover that not much had changed at the pub. On that day, my companions and I based ourselves in the saloon bar, which is larger than the public and, at the time, was less busy. We sat down by the window, glad to take the weight off our feet for a second time that day, but not before ordering a beer each.

The choice was restricted to Greene King Abbot, or Fuller’s London Pride, with the latter being the selection of all four of us. It was nice to sit there observing the goings on in the bar against the backdrop of the view of the fields from the window. The pub had only recently changed hands (this seems to be a recurring theme), so it was good to see it nice and busy. As an added treat, there were hot roast potatoes in dishes on the bar, and these were most welcome seeing as we’d had little else to eat apart from the odd packet of crisps or nuts.

One final thing worth mentioning, before I describe the brief visit son Matthew and I made at the end of January, is the traditional Kentish game of Bat & Trap that used to be played at the George & Dragon. Not long after I moved to Tonbridge, I became involved with re-establishing the former Tonbridge & Tunbridge Wells branch of CAMRA (today’s West Kent branch). One activity designed to attract new members to the fledgling branch, was a game of bat & trap with neighbouring Maidstone CAMRA. This was my former branch, so there was little difficulty in persuading them to accept the challenge. I’m not sure whether the bat & trap pitch is still there, behind the pub, so I won’t go into the intricacies of the game here, but the link here, will reveal all, to the morbidly curious.

Returning to the present day, the George & Dragon re-opened in September 2021, after a year of hard work by its new owners. The pub was closed for the first four months of the year anyway, due to Covid, and following the recent renovation, the pub’s weatherboarding has been renewed, where necessary and painted an attractive shade of pale lime green. Matthew and I called in at lunchtime, on a quiet Thursday, more from curiosity than anything, but also with a desire to witness any changes and to show our support for the new owners.

We sat in the raised area, to the right of the counter, overlooking what used to be the public bar. There were sufficient customers in to preclude me from taking photos – a subject that Matthew gets quite wound up about. What I can report is the George & Dragon has been redecorated internally, as well as externally, with the walls and exposed woodwork (but not the large beams), painted a light pastel shade of blue. The other bars appeared quite busy with diners, so again I felt I couldn’t go taking photos, without the risk of upsetting people.

As mentioned above, the pub seemed quite popular with diners and the menu appeared competitively priced for the area.  Taylor’s Landlord and Tonbridge Traditional were the cask beers on sale, and I am pleased to report that the former was in good condition.  So, just a fleeting visit, but as the G&D is a pub I can now access using my bus pass, I’m sure I will be back. The main thing though is the pub has been brought back from the dead and, judging by January’s visit, and the number of cars parked outside when I have driven past, appears to be doing alright.

Larkin's Alehouse

I had been aware of Larkin’s Alehouse in Cranbrook for quite a few years, which isn’t perhaps surprising, given that this beer-centred, and award-winning outlet opened in 2017. I’ve been meaning to visit for some time, especially as I’ve now got my bus-pass, but the thing that spurred me into doing so, was a comment made on my blog by someone who is an occasional, and very welcome contributor. All contributors are welcome of course, but David Harrison, who I’ve never met, appears to share a mutual knowledge and admiration, of pubs and places that I remember from the times I lived in other areas of Kent.

First, there’s Ashford, where I grew up and went to school, but there’s also Maidstone, the country town of Kent, and the place where I lived for six years, when I first moved back to the county. David had been looking, unsuccessfully as it turned out, for some Larkin’s Porter, and mentioned that he hadn’t seen the beer at all this year, despite it appearing on the “Coming Soon” board at Larkin’s Alehouse. He of course, mentioned that despite sharing a name, there is no link between the Cranbrook pub and Larkin’s Brewery of Chiddingstone.

That conundrum was cleared up, by my visit, but more of that later. Somewhat ironically, I had passed Larkin’s Alehouse, a month or so before, on my trip out to Benenden; and in fact, Jeff - my friend from Maidstone, who I had met earlier that day at the Bull in Benenden, had tried persuading me to join him for a couple of pints, on the return journey. Unfortunately, I was unable to do so, as I needed to get back early to Tonbridge, on that particular day, but having seen where the place was, there was no excuse not to visit.

The chance came last Thursday when, despite the rainy and quite windy conditions, I took the bull by the horns, and set off for Cranbrook, by bus. I wrote about the journey in my previous post, and also waxed lyrical about the delights of this charming little, Wealden town, so cutting to the chase I walked into Larkin’s just after 12.15. The door was open, when I arrived, and there was just one old boy sat at one of the tables. As it happened, he didn’t stay long, but small matter, what was important was the friendly greeting I received from the lady who turned out to be the manager.

I thought at first, that she was one of the owners, but from the conversation that developed over the course of my visit, I discovered this wasn’t the case. Her name was Emma, and her job title is Bar Manager. She asked me if I’d been in before, but after saying I hadn’t, I was given a quick lesson in the basics, starting with the beers. These are written up on the chalkboard, just along from the bar, and show the four brews that are current plus the three that are coming up next.

The beers themselves, are kept in a temperature-controlled room, just off the corridor that run to the back of the pub and are dispensed by gravity. There is nothing finer, in my book, than beer served straight from the cask, unless you are a northerner, of course, who likes several inches of foam on top of your pint! The pub has no cellar, so all beer has to be brought through the pub and stored in a shed at the rear of the property.  A couple of deliveries took place whilst I was there; one from Hop Fuzz and the other from one of the cider suppliers.

And so, to the beer. There were three beers from Cellar Head displayed on the board, and I have to admit beers from this company are not amongst my favourites. There is nothing wrong with them, although I do feel that Cellar Head’s insistence on not fining their beers, does impart a degree of coarseness, which to my way of thinking, detracts from the main event. A substantial number of people obviously disagree with this sentiment, as evidenced by the sheer number of outlets stocking Cellar Head beers, but with an old ale from Long Man brewery as the only alternative, I had little choice but to go with something from the former outfit.

I’d planned to move onto the Long Man brew later, so to start with I opted for the Cellar Head Session Bitter. With an ABV of 4.0%, it was midway between the Session Pale and the 5.0% India Pale Ale, but to give credit where it’s due, my pint was perfectly acceptable, well kept, well-conditioned, and just what was needed to slake my thirst. Long Man Old Man is a 4.3% old ale, and is a beer I’d enjoyed in bottle, a couple of weeks before. This full-bodied, traditional old ale is packed with chocolate and coffee flavours, which complement the soft malt and gentle hop base, and went down very nicely with my lunch.

Lunch took the form of a filled roll – cheese or ham. I went for ham and jolly nice it was too. Supplied by one of the local butchers, it was full-flavoured, tasty and just the right filling for a substantial soft-crust roll. Pork pies are available during the summer months, again sourced from the same butcher. Crisps, nuts, and the inevitable pork scratchings, complement the more solid fayre.

The pub was on the quiet side during most of my visit, with just one other customer - a young lad who came in for a couple of pints and a chat. Emma was happy to chat too, apart from when she nipped out for a “fag break.” It turns out she knew quite a few of the Maidstone CAMRA members, which is hardly surprising given that the pub was awarded, MMK Pub of the Year for 2019. I asked about name of the pub, knowing that there was no relation with Larkin’s Brewery at Chiddingstone, and the story is it is owned by two couples, up in 2017. Larkin’s Alehouse is a conversion of a former shop, and the name comes from the maiden name of the two sisters who set up the business, in conjunction with their husbands.

One of the sisters came in, shortly before I had to leave, and I was introduced, as someone who knows one of the regular helpers behind the bar. I won’t name names, but he is someone who lives locally, who I have known for a long time. I left my card with Emma promising both her and the proprietor that I will definitely make a return visit. I had to leave promptly to catch the bus, and it was a good job I did, as it arrived early – it waited until the allotted time before departing, though!

Larkin’s Alehouse ticks all the right boxes, as far as I am concerned, especially as it is a pub, rather than a micro-pub adhering to the constrictive and over-bearing, Herne rules. With the exception of the spirits, most of the beers, wines and ciders are locally sourced, and the same applies to the snacks. The pub is well liked and well-used by the local community, which is another point in its favour. So yes, I shall be returning, sooner rather than later.

 

Cranbrook - “Capital of the Weald”

After a two-week hiatus, due to a bout of Covid and then various named storms; a fortnight when I was unable to journey anywhere, Thursday dawned relatively normal. I say relatively, because an increasingly disjointed, and out of touch dictator, decided to launch an un-provoked and unwarranted invasion on a much smaller, neighbouring country whose only “crime” was trying to do its own thing, in a way that met the aspirations of the majority of its citizens. We will have to see how this pans out over the coming days and weeks, but one thing is for sure, Mrs PBT’s and I won’t be visiting St Petersburg, any time soon.

Moving on to happier things, and what was starting to become my regular “bus wankers’ Friday,” got brought forward a day, primarily due to the weather, and associated travel plans – we have a trip to Dungeness planned for later today. There was also the matter of an overdue VAT return, for one of Eileen’s builder clients, that needed her urgent attention. Busses run on Thursdays, and pubs which might have limited opening times earlier in the week, have much friendlier hours, so far as customers are concerned, on that day as well. In fact, as the friendly lady behind the bar of Larkin’s Alehouse told me, “Thursday is the new Friday.”

Larkin’s Alehouse is located in Cranbrook, a small Wealden town that will form the main content of this post, but it’s an establishment that had long been on my list of places to visit. So, with this in mind, I set off, bus-pass in hand, to make the hour or so’s journey to this unspoilt little gem. It was raining quite heavily as I left the house, and with the small local bus that runs almost from the top of my house cancelled (the beauty of having the Arriva app on my phone), I needed to walk into Tonbridge, in order catch the Ham’s Travel service that runs, right across the Weald, to the slightly larger, and more developed town of Tenterden.

Walking in the rain, reminded me that my shoes are no longer waterproof, and whilst I have a brand-new pair at home, they haven’t been broken in yet. That will be a job for later today! The rain had eased off slightly, by the time I arrived in Tunbridge Wells, and with 40 minutes before the Tenterden bus was due, I had time to call in at the bank, and then grab a cup of coffee. I always prefer an independent operator to the likes of Costa and Starbucks, and fortunately I came across one that I hadn’t before, situated a couple of minutes’ walk from the bus stop.

TN1 Bar & Kitchen, is an attractive and modern bistro, offering breakfast in the morning, meals at lunchtime and evening, plus cocktails and other drinks, throughout the day. Proof of this was the font I noticed, for Meantime Beer. I was the only customer to start with, but I hadn’t been chatting long with the friendly, Turkish owner, when a few other customers appeared. The proprietor told me it was a family-run establishment that aimed to cater for local shoppers, plus visitors to the nearby Assembly Hall and Trinity Theatre. I though it a nice touch when he beckoned in a local road-sweeper, telling him to leave his cart outside, come in to escape the rain, and enjoy for a coffee. The latter was on-the-house, which I thought was a nice and very community-minded gesture.

After and enjoyable and very reasonably priced flat white, I made my way to the nearby stop, and boarded the 297 Tenterden bus. I wasn’t, of course, going the full distance, but after travelling on the same service a month or so previously, I was surprised by the lack of fellow passengers. Was it the rain, or more worryingly, the threat of war that had kept them away? But we will never know, so leaving such gloomy thoughts behind, I settled down to enjoy the journey.

Any gloom was further lifted, by the appearance of the sun, breaking through the clouds, as we journeyed through the delightful villages along the way – places like Matfield, Brenchley, Horsmonden and Goudhurst. We changed drivers at the latter, and I’m still not sure how the rather rotund and slow-footed gentleman, manged to clamber into the driver’s seat and squeeze in behind the wheel. As a friend of ours would say, “He was no stranger to a fish supper,” but he was far more careful and considerate behind the wheel than the driver he replaced. The latter was rather fast for my liking and aggressive with it – perhaps he thought he was commanding one of Putin’s tanks?

We arrived at the pleasant, and some might say quaint town of Cranbrook, shortly before midday. The bus dropped me in the High Street, within sight of Larkin’s Alehouse, but with 10 minutes to opening time, and a lengthy session ahead, before the bus home, I wanted to have a look around first, and renew my acquaintance with a town I’d last visited 30 or so years ago. That visit too was quite a rare one, as Cranbrook, with its narrow and winding streets was by-passed a long time ago, so it’s not even the sort of settlement one passes through on route to somewhere else.

Known as the “Capital of the Weald,” Cranbrook is a small and attractive town, which dates back to early medieval times. The town received a charter from King Edward I to hold weekly markets, and a century later, large numbers of Flemish weavers were drawn to the town, attracted by plentiful supplies of wool, from nearby Romney Marsh, as well as local deposits of fuller’s earth. The latter is a clay material, with a variety of uses, including the de-greasing of wool. This, coupled with the presence of streams that could be dammed in order to power fulling mills, led to Cranbrook becoming the centre of the Wealden cloth industry.

Large “cloth halls,” capable of holding large weaving looms, were constructed, in Cranbrook, as well as the surrounding area, and this, alongside the parallel development of iron-making, led to considerable expansion of the town. Many fine buildings were built, and the Parish Church of St Dunstan, known as the “Cathedral of the Weald,” was enlarged.  The town’s prosperity declined, when the wool trade and ironmaking moved to other parts of the country, most noticeably the north of England, and Cranbrook then became a centre for agriculture.

The railways never properly reached the town, although the short-lived, Paddock Wood to Hawkhurst branch line, did serve nearby Hartley, between 1893 and 1961. Today, Cranbrook remains as a town that time has passed by, but this only adds to its charm, and its narrow medieval streets, lined with attractive houses, many of them constructed in typical, white-painted weatherboard, style, make it a place well worth exploring on foot, and this is what I set out to do, on Thursday.

I began with a visit to St Dunstan’s church, before continuing up towards Cranbrook School, a selective, but non-fee paying, co-educational establishment, with a mixture of both boarders and day pupils. I then retraced my footsteps, and headed off in the opposite direction, to view the town’s impressive windmill. Set on a hill, overlooking north of the town, Cranbrook’s Union Mill, was constructed in 1814. It is a smock-mill, and the tallest such windmill in the country. A noticed, pinned to the door, advised that the mill would be re-opening to the public, from 1^st April, and by then, the sails (or sweeps), which were conspicuous by their absence, will have been replaced.

Walking back towards the town centre, I came across numerous small, and independently owned shops, cafés, and restaurants, but for a town of its size, Cranbrook appears quite poorly served by pubs. I was heading of course, for the aforementioned Larkin’s Alehouse, but on the way back, I passed the impressive, brick façade of the George, the town’s most prestigious hotel. Said to date from the 14^th Century, the George has obviously been altered and enlarged over the years, and whilst I was tempted to pop in, a glance through the windows, confirmed that it wasn’t really my sort of place. According to What Pub, the George stocks up to three Shepherd Neame beers, and this was another factor in persuading me not to visit.

Just across the road, and occupying a prominent corner position, is the White Horse, described by What Pub as “Cranbrook’s only true local.”  The pub boasts a large, brick-built frontage, and extends upwards for three floors. It certainly looked worthy of a visit, and IF truth be known, I very nearly did. The pull of Cranbrook’s only micro-pub proved too strong though, so I will have to save that experience for another time.

We’ll conclude this brief article on Cranbrook, here, and allow the next one to take a much more detailed look at Larkin’s Alehouse. After all, this establishment was the main reason for my visit to the town.