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Here is another short post for your delectation and delight,and whilst it appears to be yet another article about a pub breakfast (spoileralert, it is), it was second time lucky on Sunday morning, as far as the Ivy House,at the far end of Tonbridge High Street was concerned. This was because, unlikethe scenario which unfolded back in March, the lad and I managed to secure atable in this historic old pub, where we enjoyed a first-class breakfast.
I took the precaution of booking a table the night before,and I also booked it for the civilised time of 10 am. Unless I am goingsomewhere special, or planning on a hike, I really don't like being rushed on aSunday. You see, over the years I got fed up with getting up early in order to reach the village hall at Chiddingstone Causeway, before the influx of othercustomers and the ensuing long wait for a cooked breakfast – nice though it was.That involved ideally getting there for 8.30am or at the very latest 8.45am,which was far too early in my book.
I persuaded Matthew to drive us that morning, primarilybecause we had some items of shopping, but also because I had a new pair ofboots that I wanted to break in – second spoiler alert, I still ended up with ablister on the base of my Achilles tendon. It was a blustery day, with named-stormKathleen affecting the bulk of Ireland as well as much of Wales and the westcoasts of both England and, Scotland, but it was also a day for blowing thecobwebs away. Upon arrival at the pub, and confirming our booking from theprevious day, we were shown to the small bar at the far left of the Ivy House, anarea which, years ago, constituted the Public Bar. I am going back severaldecades when I say that, but the pub has had quite a few different owners overthe years, with each spending considerable amounts of cash on both renovationsand improvements. The Ivy has also found itself trading as a gastro-pub, plus arestaurant with a small bar attached.
Happily, the most recent incarnation has seen the pub restoredto its rightful place as an historic and characterful High Street pub, but onewhich also happens to serve good food as well, which basically means the currentowners have got things right. Before describing the breakfast, which btw, wasexcellent, a word or two about the beer – this is a beer blog, after all. Themain stalwart on the bar was Harvey’s Sussex Best, a “must stock” beer for mostlocal pubs, and one which carries a long and unblemished record at the Ivy House.The other beer was Session Pale Ale from Cellar Head Brewing.
The latter are a brewery whose beers I've never really takento, and it's something I can't quite put my finger on. They must be doingsomething right though, as their beers seem to crop up all over the place. CellarHead are based at Flimwell, which is well just over the border into Sussex, andhave been brewing a distinctive and wide range of beers since 2017. Look outfor their distinctive motif of a man with the sunglasses, bowler hat and thelong bushy beard, that resembles a hop cone.
Mrs PBT's is a fan of the Ivy House, and the night before,asked if we we’d booked a table in the covered outdoor
section, at the farright at the building, or in the pub itself. I told her that we wanted to sit inside andenjoy the ambiance of this historic old inn. “Won't it be rather cramped, inthe pub?” was her response, to which I replied that we would cross that bridgewhen we came to it. As things turned out, it wasn’t crowded at all inside thepub, although it was difficult to see what was going on in the outside area.
On the table behind us,was Eileen’s boss from the scaffolding company she does work for, together with his partner. They were sitting there, sitting with another couplewaiting, like us, for the waitress to come and take their order. I think bothChris and I were equally surprised to see each other but after exchanging a fewpleasantries, we sat down and got on with our conversation whilst those at theneighbouring table did the same.
Shortly afterwards a waitress came over andtook our order, starting with a pot of tea each. Having looked at the Ivy Housemenu beforehand, I was really looking forward to breakfast there, as I knew itwould be top notch. Mrs PBT's is a great believer in the saying that you getwhat you pay for, and this was certainly true at the Ivy, because when our foodarrived the quality was without doubt, first class. The dry-cure bacon had aflavour that was out of this world, and the sausages, from local butchers, Haywards,weren't far behind. My scrambled egg, served on sourdough toast, was light andfluffy, and the Parmentier potatoes were also good, although like Matthew, Iwould have preferred some hash-browns instead.
That Ivy House breakfast was just right to set up bothMatthew and I, for the rest of the day. After saying goodbye to Chris and hispartner, we popped round the corner into the main part of the bar and paid thebill. Afterwards we had a bit of shopping to do which mainly involved Matthew’sshop Robert Dyas. I needed some picture hooks, plus some stout garden twine, whilstMatthew had to pick up some shelving, identified as surplus by the storemanager at Tonbridge, but eagerly snapped up by the East Grinstead branch ofDyas, where Matthew works.
So that was Sunday morning done with, and I spent a ratherlazy afternoon, catching up on the blog, whilst managing to avoid doing anygardening. I has another reason for wanting to take things easy, as the newpair of boots I bought, three weeks previously from George at Asda. I wanted tostart breaking them in, so I wore them to breakfast that morning. They were alittle tight around the heel and alarms bells should have rang, but Ipersisted, nevertheless. So, as mentioned earlier, I ended up with a blister inthe area between the top of my heel, and the base of my Achilles tendon.
That wasn’t the first time I’ve made such an error, as severalyears ago, on a visit to Cologne for a trade show, where I was representing thecompany on our sales stand, walking across the Rhine river, from our hotel tothe exhibition centre on the first morning of the exhibition, was sufficient to crucify my heel. Despite this setback,I will break in these boots, and I'm sure that with a bit of dedication, theywill become comfortable and will end up fitting like a well-worn glove.

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