More from That Kent, and an unexpected tick on the edge of Romney Marsh, though Paul Bailey will no doubt claim it for nearby Ashford given that town’s apparent beery renaissance.
People who read this blog, and I don’t even think I count myself in that number, may remember my failed attempt in Autumn to visit the Black Lion (only a couple from miles from a more famous Lion in Snargate).
“We’re closed mate, no staff, all the foreigners have gone home“. said the Landlord then.
This time I phoned first.
“Are you open ? Just for a drink ?”
“We CERTAINLY are !”. I liked that enthusiasm.
I liked the tight beer range, one with an easy choice. NO ! Not the IPA.
A tougher choice of lunch for the half dozen diners.
“I’ve…..succumbed to the duck !” said a well-dressed gent, excitedly. “Saute instead of new ones“.
A pleasant, friendly, unfussy country dining pub for gentlefolk, with the bonus of superbly cool and creamy pint of Copper (NBSS 3.5+). OK, it’s not quite the Halfway House at Brenchley, but I’d go back on my tour of Great Expectations sites (don’t bother, pedants).
The couple behind me were about to celebrate a significant wedding anniversary.
“The weather’s not quite as good as when we got married next door, dear“
“No, dear”. Ah. I bet they didn’t have their reception in the Black Lion. But if they did, I bet they were drinking the Flowers Original back then.
Mrs RM and I were married in 1992, when this track was a hit.
30 years ago, playing in an Appledore pub, KD Lang’s classic brought back no memories at all.