There are three things likely to improve your blog views. 1) Blogging from an unheralded town and slagging off its classier neighbour, 2) Queueing (especially in Spoons), 3) Tipping your beer in a plant pot.
Let’s see if a reference to drugs can be added to our list.
We needed to catch a bus back to Southborough where my in-laws were (no doubt) waiting to hear tales of our escapades.
I’d have walked, it was only 3 miles, but Mrs RM insisted we take the bus.
A pleasing bus stop, too, opposite the castle and a pub I’ve never been in but which seemed particularly alluring now.
Well, obviously the bus was late, absurdly late, and as Mrs RM sat patiently I decided to investigate the young people pub a few yards away.
I don’t think the Gate House is getting in the GBG anytime soon, but obviously that type of info is embargos and Eddie (not the ticker) will eat you if you pre-announce entries.
Still, one beer on in this former Slug & Lettuce, and a decent one (sometimes).
A startlingly dull pub, mind, though the lads doing trick shots on the pool table (“It was the only shot on to be fair”) seemed happy enough. And they were about to show the City v Belgrade game.
I have no idea who Sylvia Pankhurst is. Probably a drum and bass act.
The bus was due in 8 minutes, time to savour a half of Landlord that (kid you not) was cool and rich (3.5).
I stood admiring the view, glass perched on the table.
At that moment a chap in white suit, possibly Martin Fry, brought me a spare seat. What a gent.
A minute later he came over and asked if I’d mind his bags while he went to get a scratch card. “Only be a minute“. Well, what do you do ? Off he shot, walking quicker than even I walk according to Mrs RM.
I returned to my beer.
10 minutes later, scratch card man was nowhere to be seen, and a crowd had gathered around the bags.
“Don’t touch it ! Could be a bomb”. Not sure that was entirely the right thing to say.
“Nah” said the lady with her fag hanging over the bags, “this is Tonbridge, it’ll be drugs“.
Just at the moment a call to 101 looked a sensible option, white suit man reappeared, complaining about a non-functioning scratch card machine. I think he was trying to win his £2 fare for the bus, which I gave him having already decided to make him the star of this blog.
He never got on that bus.
retiredmartin 
If ever an unknown draws up a chair uninvited in a pub then I generally – but not always – leave.
The occasions when I didn’t consistently reminded me that it should indeed be always.
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If an unknown person pulls up a chair or comes and sits next to you, the correct procedure is to stare straight ahead and say, “Have you brought the money?”
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I’m trying to work out whether or not that black at the top of the photo, is stuffed full of packets of cigarettes. Perhaps you could forward the photo to NASA for digital enhancement, or perhaps not.
The Gatehouse isn’t somewhere I venture into often, as if I’m honest, I’d much rather visit Spoons!. Bit of a lads’ pub is probably the nicest thing about the place, although to be fair they did try courting CAMRA with their cask offering, several years ago several years – before the pandemic. Matthew and I even tried the breakfast in there once, again pre-covid.
The Organic Village Market next door, is worth a visit, Sam Smiths bottles, amongst others, but only if you drink at home, which I know is something you rarely do.
Looking forward to further tales of dodgy Tonbridge pubs and their dubious customers!!
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I hadn’t noticed the Gatehouse before, Paul, and only popped in because I needed the loo after the bus was delayed 20 minutes !
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Thats what makes pubs great. You meet all sorts and see as slice of society you don’t get from sitting in your bubble.
it’s why selective niche micropubs are boring but actual pubs full of all sorts are more than just gaffs to drink.
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Spot-on.
Micro pubs (the original ones in Kent, rather than the small pubs in, say, Lancashire without a cask focus catering to everyone) were often pitched as appealing to people like you (old bloke) because they excluded younger people.
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