
June 2023. Rochester.
We dropped the in-laws off in Greater Tunbridge Wells, after an epic 5 hour trek down M1/M25, and headed to our caravan in Rye. Mrs RM had let the park owners worry about the lettings, and we’ve picked the early and late summer slots. Hopefully that late summer slot will coincide with the new Guide but who can tell with CAMRA’s dispatch policies.
I still had five (5) Kent GBG23 entries to tick, which shows how poor my ticking efforts have been despite having a South Coast base.

Simon had beat me to the frankly unattractive sounding Wainscott, a poor man’s Strood. I realised just how little of the Hoo Peninsula I’d actually seen in my 58 years.

His lovely blog post focused heavily on the sexualisation of the fox on the sign and a taxi driver asking him about life regrets but then that’s BRAPA.
From me you get a micro moan that a pub I was confidently expecting open from noon had just “changed” its Tuesday hours. Google was telling me it had been open 11 minutes already; Google lied.

And, this being a Tuesday, something not even A.I. can change, I was stuffed.
But the Fox is on Hollywood Lane, and with a Hollywood script straight from Wrexham I met the gaze of someone in the garden just as I headed to the Co-op for a consolatory huge bar of chocolate.
“Not open till 3pm then ?” I called, miserably.
“Actually, I’m opening up in about half an hour if you can wait“
By coincidence, 30 minutes was exactly the time required to buy haddock and chips from the Chinese chippy and some artisan (not a word often used in Wainscott) Rubies ketchup from Co-op,

and scoff the lot in the comfort of the campervan.

Look, it wasn’t bad, NF&CSS 3 perhaps, and the fish had probably been fresher than the one down the side of my pub,

but just far too much as prelude to a days cultivated quaffing.
But at least the Golden Fish was (allegedly) open 24 hours a day;

That’s the level of commitment micros should aspire to.
Inside the Crafty Fox, the main lady is a chatty gem, telling me all the historic stuff Simon had to ask his mate for because he was in a rush.

Slow it down, Si, 25 minutes, remember ?

It’s got a Proper Pub feel about it, and our hero had previously run a pub in the posh bit of Medway the other side of the A2.

In contrast to Si, I thought the beer (a crisp Kent Pale) was pretty good, enjoyed on bench seating while we chatted about pot plants. Or something.

“Fancy another one ?”
I did, but discipline is vital for the pub ticker, particularly with public loo provision so sketchy.
“What fish is that?”
“Don’t tell him, Pike”
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It’s a duck, surely ?
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Trust me you dont need to see any more of the Hoo Peninsula There are similar semi industrial promontories on the coasts of the great lakes in the US and in all the Baltic countries and you dont need to see these eithet.
Stick to the hills for your psychgeographical thrills is my advice
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Trust me, Alan, that sounds endlessly fascinating !
I did visit Grain and Cooling years ago (not for pubs, not sure there’s ever been a GBG pub above Upnor though someone will correct me.
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The Great Expectations connection to Cooling Churchyard is evocative I admit
If you walk the path from Grain to Gravesend heading for the Ship and Lobster you pass the mounting points for huge retractible metal chains which were intended to stretch across to Tilbury and cut in half invading warships The perceived threat was Napoloeon 3 in the 1860s
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I have just noticed that the Horseshoe and Castle Cooling is in this years
Either you have been there on pub business or you have another Kent tick after your Rochester trip
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Did the Horseshoe & Castle when I visited Cooling, Alan (NBSS 3 I scored); late 2000s I reckon. I’ve got beer scores for all the GBG pubs I’ve visited over the last 30 years !
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I’m intrigued to know where the “posh bit of Medway” is, and as for the Hoo Peninsula, I’m with Alan on this one – with the honourable exception of Upnor.
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The posh bit of Medway is those villages in the North Downs based around Sole Street station. You probably claim them as “Greater Tonbridge”, Paul !
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I beg to differ here Martin, despite only being an honorary Kentish Man. If you look on a map, Sole Street station lies dues south of Gravesend, whereas villages such as Bredhurst, and hamlets such as Dunn Street, which are to the immediate south of the Medway conurbation, represent the true “posh bit of Medway.”
Fortunately, the M2 motorway has acted as a barrier to further southward expansion, and it’s not often that a motorways brings such an unexpected benefit.
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The well quantified life
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