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I’ve taken the week off work. Following the restrictions of lock-down, the company are keen for employees to have taken at least 10 days from their annual leave by the end of September, so I was happy to oblige, given the unpleasantness that’s miring the workplace at present. With the kids back at school, and the weather often more settled than in July and August, September is a good time to take leave. The temperatures are still fine for outdoor activities and the nights haven’t completely drawn in yet, and even after booking these five days off, I’ve still got 16 days to last me though until April; and that doesn’t take account of Christmas either.

So, what to do with myself when foreign destinations are a quarantine on return lottery; not that Mrs PBT’s is keen on me jetting off anywhere at the moment. Well there’s been two days in Norfolk so far, and I’ve pencilled in walking a further stage of the North Down’s Way for Thursday. Eileen was working today, and I didn’t fancy anything too strenuous, so after dropping her off at work, I finished fixing the handrail I’d constructed alongside our garden steps, before heading into Tonbridge.

I was on a mission to collect my walking boots from Timpson’s, after leaving them there on Saturday for the soles to be re-attached. They both had the appearance of starting to come loose, but then disaster struck on the last stage of the walk we undertook on Bank Holiday Monday. I haven’t written about the walk yet, but it involved an eight-mile walk, which took in two pubs – three actually, as we called in at the Nelson on our return to Tonbridge. After leaving the first pub, and negotiating a steeply descending path, through woodland, towards the ornamental lakes at the bottom of Eridge Park, I noticed the front part of the sole, of my left boot, had become completely detached. With it hanging there like a flap, there was a danger I could inadvertently trip, but fortunately my friend’s wife came to the rescue, with a spare hair band that she had in her bag.
This kept the sole in place for the rest of the walk, so never again will I berate my own dear wife, or indeed any member of the opposite sex, for carryingthe proverbial kitchen sink around in a bag, just in case it “comes in handy!” So, with Mrs PBT’s safely at work, my small construction project complete and my boots ready to collect, I fancied a beer, and where better than the recently opened and completely refurbished Ivy House, at the north end of Tonbridge High Street. The pub was still being worked on at the start of lockdown, but after a brief lull, work resumed, and the pub finally opened its doors last month. I hadn’t yet managed a visit, so today seemed the ideal opportunity.
There was only one problem, according to their website, the Ivy doesn’t open on Mondays and Tuesdays. No problem, I thought, I’ll try the Nelsoninstead, but yet again, my plans were thwarted as the pub doesn’t open until 4pm. Perhaps Fuggles will be open, was my next consideration, but I soon discovered this well-stocked beer café doesn’t open until 5pm, weekdays. I was starting to run out of options, especially as I fancied an outside drink. That had been my aim too on Sunday, in King’s Lynn,but on a warm afternoon there were no outside tables available either at the front of the Maid’s Head pub. It would have been nice to have enjoyed a beer whilst looking out over the Tuesday Market Place, but the tables were all taken, unfortunately.
Spoon’s would have been an option, but despite its size, the garden to the rear of the pub is often noisy and crowded, so I rule that out. The Gatehouse was open, but I’ve never been keen on this Stonegate Inns outlet, and the same applies to the historic Chequers, opposite. I walked past the Man of Kent; an attractive old weatherboard pub, once the source of the finest pint of Draught Bass for miles around. The pub was open but peering in through the window revealed a dearth of customers and the pump clip for the sole cask beer Harvey’s, turned around.
On my walk up the High Street, I noticed that posh-nosh restaurant, Verdigris seemed open. Formerly the Castle Hotel, Verdigris has a covered terrace area, at the side of the building, overlooking the River Medway. I also knew that whilst there was no cask available, the restaurant did stock the revamped Hofmeister Lager, and a nice cool pint of that would suit me down to the ground.

Alas, I was too late; Verdigris has strange opening hours at the start of the week, opening between 8am and 2pm on Monday and Tuesday, and then 8am through to 11pm the rest of the week. I gave up and made my way home, annoyed that in a post-lockdown world, there was nowhere decent in Tonbridge to enjoy a beer, on a Tuesday afternoon. Depending on what’s happening tomorrow, I might take another stroll down into Tonbridge. At least the Ivy House and Verdigris should be open, but the whole situation reflects the problems associated with lunchtime drinking in the autumn of 2020.




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