Not quite déjà vu, but it was 50 years later

It felt a little strange pitching up outside the Timber Batts pub in the isolated downland settlement of Bodsham. As we parked the car outside, I didn't exactly have a sense of déjà vu, in fact I don't think I actually recognised the place, but then looking back it was around 50 years that I'd last set foot in the pub. That would have been when I was still living at home with my parents, in the relatively nearby village of Brook. I would have been a VI form student at the time, but I do distinctly remember visiting the Timber Batts; I mean with a distinctive name like that, it wasn't exactly the sort of place one would forget.

I didn't have my own car back then, and despite having a rather under-powered Honda 90 scooter, I had no real means of visiting such an isolated public house. I'm pretty certain that the last of what was only a handful of visits, was made when my sister’s friend’s boyfriend drove a group of us to the pub. The Timber Batts had become something of an in place amongst the crowd I hung around with in those days and it was quite easy to see why, given its tucked away location and its quirky,and rather unusual name.

Fast forward half a century and more or less out of the blue I spotted an opportunity off revisiting this haunt from my youth, and this came about when I was looking for a suitable place to call in at, after completing another of the rapidly diminishing incomplete sections of the North Downs Way. Naturally I consulted the What-pub app, as my original intention had been to stop at the Bowl Inn at Hastingleigh. This is another pub situated high up on the downs, amongst the maze of small backroads that criss-cross this part of east Kent. But whilst looking further photo What-pub entries, I noticed the name Timber Batts staring at me from the screen.

I couldn't believe what I was seeing, as whilst I was sure that the pub had closed its doors a long time ago, What-pub was telling me otherwise.  I discovered that the Timber Batts had been closed for some time, although it had reopened, as a pub in 2016. This followed a spell as a restaurant, but six years ago, a knight, or rather a lady in shining armour, rescued this ancient country inn, and once more it is welcoming casual drinkers, as well as those in search of something more solid.

I had persuaded son Matthew to accompany me on this outing, in fact we even took his car, as he wanted to gain some more experience of motorway driving. The area of the North Downs we were heading to, was a point high on  the hills directly overlooking the Channel Tunnel terminal. I had originally walked this section back in the summer of 2019, after setting off from Wye station. My aim was to walk to the tiny settlement of Arpinge, a distance of approximately 14 miles. This was the location of the nearest available bed and breakfast establishment on this stretch of the trail, but realistically speaking, it was a couple of miles too far - as I discovered to my cost!

Two or three miles before the end of the journey, the route led me up one of the steepest climbs on that particular section, and to say I was running out of steam, was an understatement. After turning right at the top, and heading towards the sea, the map showed the path skirting the top of the escarpment. It was a further couple of miles to my overnight stop and I was left wondering whether I would make it or not. An alternative route, by road, presented itself. It looked almost the same distance, but I knew that walking along the road would be far easier on my legs than walking over rough ground.

The road it was then, and I eventually arrived at Pigeonwood House B&B two hours later than the time originally notified to the landlady. I think she had almost given up on me, but after removing my boots and checking in, she showed to my room. The first thing I needed was a shower, followed by a good night's sleep. I didn't bother with an evening meal, despite the landlady offering to drive me to the nearest pub, the strangely named Cat & Custard Pot at Paddlesworth. I declined her kind offer, took a shower, made myself a cup of tea, and then slithered into bed. I slept like the proverbial log and woke relatively refreshed the following morning.

The landlady seemed pleasantly surprised to see me, as I'm sure she half expected that I wouldn’t make it through the night. I confounded her by eating a hearty full English breakfast, preceded by cereal, and finished off with several slices of toast and marmalade. I settled my account and set off on the next stage of my journey - a slightly shorter, but still quite challenging walk that would take me to Dover. I was quite annoyed with myself for having missed that section of the official trail, despite the best of intentions, and so three and a half years later, I returned to complete this stretch of the North Downs Way.

There is a handy small car park overlooking the flat-lands below, situated directly above a chalk carving of the Kentish White Horse. You can't actually see this from the top, but what you can see is the bustling terminus of the Channel Tunnel, where cars and lorries are loaded onto transporters to take them through the tunnel. After parking the car, we set off and with the aid of a map, plus a conveniently situated signpost we found the official trail. We followed it round as it skirted the top of the escarpment, passing a couple of WWII pill boxes on the way. It was nice and flat, so perhaps I could have completed it after all, back in 2019.

We could see right out to sea from the edge of the field, and despite the slightly hazy conditions I was surprised to see the land mass of northern France silhouetted on the far horizon. So, for the second time of hiking along this particular stretch of the North Downs, I was annoyed with myself for having left my binoculars at home, although in mitigation, it had been quite foggy when we left Tonbridge.

When we reached the part of the pathway
I had diverted from, we decided to walk along the road, primarily because it was less muddy. On the way back to the car-park, we passed the start of the driveway, leading to Pigeonwood House. Back at the car, we swapped our muddy walking shoes, for the clean ones we’d brought with us, and then set off to find the tiny hamlet of Bodsham, and the Timber Batts public house. Read how we fared in the next installment.

 

 

Czar’s P2 Imperial Stout

In March 2020 I traveled to the Midland town of Burton on Trent to join up with some fellow beer enthusiasts on what was known as a “Proper Day Out.” It was only the second such outing I’d attended at the time, but as events were soon to prove, it was my last pub crawl, and trip away from my Kentish home, for many months.

Burton of course is often referred to as the home of British brewing, with the town gaining its fame from the quality of the local water. Being rich in naturally occurring calcium sulphate, otherwise known as gypsum, Burton water enabled the production of clear and sparkling pale ales, of the highest quality, and in large quantities. Before it became possible to artificially adjust brewing water (or “liquor” as brewers prefer to call it), brewing companies from other parts of the United Kingdom set up shop in Burton, in order to take advantage of the water.

They were trying to emulate two of the most famous Burton brewers, namely Bass and Co, plus Samuel Allsopp. The former, at one time were the largest brewing company in the world., whilst the other firm ran them a close second. Both companies were pioneers in the production and subsequent export of pale ales to India, where the style soon became known as India Pale Ale.

The reason for that Proper Day Out, was to sample Burton’s most famous product in the form of Draught Bass - a beer that was once the UK’s biggest selling cask ale, and a survivor from the glory days of the 19^th Century.  With some of the town’s best pubs at our disposal we really were spoiled for choice, and what’s more we were blessed with a glorious sunny day, as well. The sunshine was especially welcome after weeks of torrential rain and it certainly helped lighten everyone’s’ mood. What we didn't realise was that this happy and carefree state of mind would not last, because looming large and threatening on the horizon, was the start of the most serious global pandemic since the so-called Spanish Influenza of 1919.

Looking back some clues were already there. Italy had been particularly badly affected as the virus that caused the disease known as Covid-19, spread steadily westward from its origin in the Wuhan province of China. Even then, few of us realised how serious this condition would become, and that in just a few short weeks, we would all be incarcerated in our homes. The threat from this novel corona virus was in the back of my mind, as I journeyed to Burton, by train, from my home in Tonbridge. That morning, on the underground traveling between Charing Cross and Marylebone, I noticed one or two people wearing masks, but at the time I wasn't going to let any pessimism spoil my day out, and I'm sure my companions all felt the same.

You can read all about our day out by clicking on the following link, but for now I want to concentrate on a very special bottle of beer that I purchased on that day in Burton. In view of the distances that some of us had traveled, we didn’t meet up until midday, and after enjoying some Draught Bass at the Devonshire Arms, we headed off for a spot of lunch. The choice of somewhere to eat, for several of us was, the National Brewery Centre & Museum, formerly known as the Bass Museum of Brewing.

We called in at the Brewery Tap, attached to the NBC, where along with a selection of tasty and well-presented food (a fish-finger sandwich for me), we enjoyed a couple of beers brewed at the NBC’s Heritage Brewery. As its name suggests, the brewery was set up to replicate old Bass and other former group company recipes, back when the NBC was operated by Bass. Along with the two draught beers I sampled – replicas of Charrington IPA and Oatmeal Stout, I also bought a bottle of “Czar’s P2 Imperial Stout.,” The latter is a recreation of a beer once brewed for export to Czarist Russia, where it was much appreciated by the imperial court.

As I wrote at the time, being bottle-conditioned, and with a strength of 8.0%, it should last quite a while, so there was no need for me to open it any time soon. Then, when Coronavirus arrived on the scene, and we were all forced into lock-down, I decided not to open the bottle until the pandemic was over. I’m not sure whether Covid-19 is officially over, although I suspect not, but as just over two and a half years have passed, following that trip, I finally decided to crack that bottle open. It seemed an opportune time to sample the beer, especially as it was showing a best before date of October 2021, but despite the passing of 13 months since that date, the beer was fine.

It poured with a thick creamy head, and was packed full of rich dark roasted flavours, balanced by an intense hop bitterness. The long maturation period had mellowed the beer somewhat, but it remained well conditioned, with the 8% strength coming through, but without it being overpowering. There were certainly no signs of deterioration, despite this satisfying and enjoyable imperial stout being over a year passed its best before date.

Sadly, that bottle of P2 Imperial Stout, might be the last available for some time, as the National Brewery Centre & Museum closed its doors to the public at the beginning of November. The reasons behind the closure are described in detail in this article by veteran beer writer, Roger Protz, but basically the museum’s lease has been terminated, by the site’s owners, global brewing giant, Molson Coors. Potentially, this move could also leave the Heritage Brewery looking for a new home as well, but that story will have to wait for another time, and for further clarification, before airing.

It wasn't supposed to have ended like this

The end of the pandemic was meant to be so very different, as pundits writing whilst the virus was still raging were at pains to point out. They based their predictions on what would happen, once Covid-19 was just a bad memory, on the events that followed the previous global pandemic. This was the Spanish flu, and there was nothing particularly Spanish about it. Instead, over 6 million people lost their lives across the globe, and coming as it did, hot on the heels of the First World War, this was the last thing the world needed or indeed wanted. Once the flu had fizzled out and things started getting back to normal, an era of unbridled prosperity followed, which led to the decade becoming known as the “roaring 20s.”

The good times didn’t last long, as the 1929 Wall Street Crash soon put paid to that, but for whatever reason - I’m guessing lazy thinking, modern day pundits started peddling out the same story. Things didn’t happen that way, of course, war-criminal and petty gangster Vladimir Putin, put paid to that with his criminal invasion of neighbouring Ukraine. The war saw energy bills sky rocketing, and the rate of inflation hit double figures. The country’s longest serving monarch passed away, whilst her government descended into total chaos, proving beyond doubt that the pundits were wrong in virtually every respect.

You could say then that the chaos of the past few years, coupled with the continuing train-wreck that is Brexit, have not been good for those seeking peace, harmony, and calm affecting many of us in ways that are both testing and trying. As we continue our journey into the month of November, I felt a real sense of melancholia creeping in, a feeling not helped by all the bad stuff happening in the world, and one made worse by the miserable and every damp weather we've been experiencing over the past few weeks. The only bonus has been the unseasonably warm temperatures, which at least has meant minimal use of the central heating.

Accompanying this malaise has been a general feeling of listlessness and of lacking in direction, which I put down to the time of the year and life in general. Whatever the cause, it goes to reinforce my belief that November really is the worst month of the year. It's not all bad though, as today dawned bright and largely free of rain, and there have been some positive things happening at work, as well.

On a personal front, and as a good way of brightening up the month and giving us, something to look forward to in the run up towards Christmas, Mrs PBT’s and I have booked a short cruise, for the end of November. It’s a voyage to Amsterdam and back, and we’ll be onboard ship for just four nights. It will be my third visit to the Dutch capital, and Eileen’s first, so having seen many, but not all of the city’s sights, I’m content to take a back seat and go with the flow, as long as we manage to visit one or two of Amsterdam’s traditional backstreet pubs or "brown cafes" as they are sometimes called.

The area where visiting cruise liners dock, is really close to the city centre, in fact it is just behind the central station. Having been to the station several times I've never really noticed its proximity to the open sea, but it's a handy location especially as central Amsterdam is fairly compact and easy to get around in on foot. On my last visit to the city, back in 2016, I visited the well-known De Wildeman beer café, where I enjoyed a good selection of local Dutch beers and had an interesting chat with bar manager, Simon.

We will be sailing on the Queen Victoria, another of Cunard's famous "Queen ships," and this will complete, for us, the current line up off Elizabeth, Mary and now Victoria. In 2024 Cunard’s 4^th, and latest ship in the series, named after British queens, comes into service, when the Queen Anne sets sail on her maiden voyage. It is possible we will be on that voyage although more likely we will leave a cruise on the Queen Anne, until later that year.

The only downside is the cruise clashes with the British Guild of Beer Writers Christmas meal, which like last year, takes place in the ornate surroundings of One George St, close to the Houses of Parliament. Last year’s dinner was most enjoyable, with some excellent food and equally good beers to match. The only trouble was my inability to resist the temptation to overindulge, although I regretted it the following morning. The amount of beer I consumed, also limited my alcohol intake at my firm’s Christmas party, which took place the following afternoon.

This year’s party returns once again to the Little Brown Jug pub in Chiddingstone Causeway, scene of many previous and rather boozy Christmas meals. The beer offering sometimes is "safe" but steady, but the food is always plentiful well cooked and well presented. After another challenging year it will be good to socialise and relax with work colleagues, and to enjoy their company, over some good food and some pleasant drink.

I've also been looking at replacing my car. I've had my current Skoda Octavia since 2015, and it has served me really well, but with just under 100,000 miles on the clock, it probably is time to trade it in for a newer model, although that high mileage is fine for diesel. Diesel cars are obviously much more economical in terms of miles per gallon, but they are much better for longer journeys than for the short trips to and from work that make up the bulk of my driving, as I found out to my cost when I had to replace a coked-up EGR valve. Diesels continue to receive a bad press, but irrespective of this, I will probably revert back to petrol, now that it is considerably cheaper, in terms of price per litre.

I've had a look at the model and the spec of car that I want, and my local Skoda dealer will notifying me when a suitable vehicle comes into the showroom. This is because whilst I want a nearly new vehicle, I do not want a brand new one. There is a waiting list for the latter anyway, but there is the other issue of new cars losing their value as soon as they are driven off the showroom forecourt. I'm in no real hurry to upgrade.

That’s November mapped out then, and apart from recording that I had an excellent pint of Dogbolter, from Gadd’s, at the Nelson, early yesterday evening, it’s time to sign off. (The last two photos, were taken at De Wildeman beer café, seven years ago - to help set the scene for Amsterdam).