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It’s strange, although possibly just a fact of life, but inthe space of just a couple of days I’ve gone from having nothing to writeabout, to having a real abundance. As anticipated, Friday’s visit to the BlackCountry, postponed from last August due to me contracting COVID, has provided awealth of material, ranging from some truly classic and unspoilt pubs thatoffered beers from a number of small, family-owned breweries, which havemanaged to survive from a time that predates the birth of CAMRA.
Three of the five pubs visited had been on my bucket listfor many years, so it was doubly satisfying to experience them at first hand,and be able to enjoy some truly excellent beers, in surroundings that havechanged little over the past century. Sharing these riches with others who notonly appreciate them but are much more familiar with their charms than I am,added to the experience.
Before launching into a full-blown article about my day outin the Black Country, I want to finish off a piece which I’d started earlier inthe week. It is one which designed to tie in a few of the loose threads leftover from a previous article about the joys of going out for breakfast at theweekend, so please bear with me until this post is out of the way. I mentioned in my Ides of March post that the lad and I wereplanning on enjoying a Sunday breakfast at a local pub, but as is sometimes thecase, the best laid plans can often go astray. This was certainly the case lastSunday when, after selecting the Ivy House in Tonbridge, as somewhere to enjoya traditional English breakfast, we ended up being disappointed.
The Ivy House is one of the oldest buildings in Tonbridge.It is an attractive old tile-hung building which dates back to the 15thCentury. Formerly known as the Elephant & Castle, the pub is said to takeits name from the mass of ivy that once covered the exterior. The pub has hadquite a chequered history, particularly in recent years. When I first came to Tonbridge,it was a two-bar establishment, popular with bikers and those of a slightly"bohemian" disposition. Later, when I last worked in Tonbridge(1996-2001), the Ivy House had a good reputation for food, and the company Iworked took full advantage of this and used the pub as somewhere to wine anddine visiting customers.
There has been several changes at the Ivy House, since thattime, the most recent being just after the pandemic. Mrs PBT’s has been in thepub more times than I have, since those changes, having dined there, withfriends, on several occasions, and following her recommendation, I decided thatMatthew and I would give the pub’s breakfast option a try. When we arrived the otherSunday, it seemed as if half the population of Tonbridge were also there forthe same purpose, as the place was heaving. We were asked whether we had areservation, and whilst I had considered making one, I decided against this,primarily because I was unsure of the time, we would be ready.The discipline of rising at a certain time for work, duringthe week, leads to a much more relaxed feeling at weekends, and because of thisI didn’t want to commit to a specific time. I had also noticed from the pub’swebsite, that “walk-ins” were available, so to my mind, at least, there was norequirement to book a table. Unfortunately, the girl on the door advised theycould only honour bookings, due to the non-appearance of a member of thekitchen staff. Sorry, and all that, but as mentioned above, we could see thesituation the pub was in, so we thanked her and departed, in search ofsomewhere else.
Time was getting on, so when Matthew suggested Spoons, Iagreed, much to his surprise. We walked back along the High Street, dodging thepuddles produced by the heavy rainfall, and whilst the HumphreyBean was also very busy, managed to find a table on the raised section,away from family groups with their “well-behaved” little darlings. The Spoonsoffering was around half the price of that in the Ivy House, or at least the £4.99Traditional Breakfast I opted for was. Being a growing lad, Matthew ordered the £6.59,Large Breakfast – quelle surprise, so after bunging him sufficient to cover myrepast, plus a refillable coffee, I despatched him to the bar, and settled downto read about the current Spoons Beer Festival.
There was a time when I wouldn’t have missed one of these,and it’s encouraging that Tim is continuing with them, including the practiceof visiting brewers from overseas, visiting these shores in order to brew aspecial beer, based on a brew that is available in their home country. Companieswith sufficient capacity, such as Banks, Adnam’s and Fuller’s usually provide thefacilities and equipment necessary to produce such beers, but being something of a purist, I would ratherhave the real thing, imported from the visiting brewers home country. To mymind, these guest “foreign” brews lack the provenance associated with the realthing, although I’ve been criticised as a "beer snob” before, for expressingsuch views.
I mentioned that the Humphrey Bean was crowded, and I believethis was due to the inclement weather. Sunday morning is traditionally the timefor those families with sporty off-spring, to bring their charges down to the sportsground, a large flat area, enclosed by a loop of the river Medway that containsa large number of playing fields – football as well as rugby. These sports madkids can let off steam to their hearts content, whilst their parents (usuallythe fathers), shout words of encouragement from the touchline. Sometimes, whenemotions are running high, the encouraging words will be exchanged for insults,which doesn’t set a good example, but these highly competitive, "pushy parent" types,forget that what takes place on the pitches is only a game!The staff at the Humphrey Bean coped admirably, with thelarger than expected number of customers, and I was quite happy sitting thereenjoying several flat white coffees from the reliable machine, before ourbreakfasts arrived. The pub itself, seemed to have mellowed somewhat from whatI remember, or perhaps it was just me in a more relaxed mood.


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