Christmas Eve 2023. Tonbridge.
Our days of being abroad at Christmas are probably on the back burner for now, and it seemed more important than ever to be with both sets of parents this year after extended hospitalisations.
The 24th in Waterbeach and Tonbridge, the 25th in Tonbridge and Waterbeach. At least the A1 was (surprisingly) quiet.
Christmas Eve in the Vauxhall Premier Inn a mile from the in-laws (not staying there, nope), a chance to catch up on the blog ?
Well, no. Five minutes after a protracted check-in our two lads (no idea who got the sofa bed in their room) had shot off into town. They’ve inherited their father’s walking speed, if not his impatience.
“Meet you in Fuggles” we texted.
Well, immense credit to Mrs RM; the map suggests it’ll take 24 minutes (odd route via the back of the supermarkets); it took 24 minutes.
And at the Spoons river Medway, the magical sight of Tonbridge Castle, illuminated.
For centuries the town has played second fiddle to its Royal neighbour to the south (the one with the “u”), but I’ve warmed to Tonbridge of late, and not just because it’s home to Kent’s premier pub man.
The shopping area isn’t great (but hey, who really shops at the Pantiles), but the beamed inns just past the river are rather gorgeous.
I like an evening without firm plans. Mrs RM’s only plan was a cheese toastie and a strong Belgian beer in Fuggles.
Oddly, I don’t seem to have written about this one, which could mean my previous visit was pre-blog.
Sister pub, and pretty much indistinguishable, to the T’Wells original which would be in Mrs RM’s Top 10, and my Top 100. You know, the one with the Danish cherry wine.
No sign of the boys, they don’t have Mrs RM’s ability to find a table where there isn’t one, even if it’s a high table with a hundred empty glasses on it.
It’s not ideal, but we’re not giving up. Unlike James and Matthew who had tipped up 10 minutes earlier, declared it full, and sodded off for a pint of Stella each in the Spoons.
Stella v Vocation Chocolate Stout (3+) and Brugse Zot; no contest.
By the time we were reunited I’d ordered Mrs RM’s toastie,
but was in big trouble, huge. Only two toasties left, and I hadn’t appreciated that ‘shroom was vegan cheese. Actually, not bad, washed down with something from Schlenkerla that wasn’t the Rauchbier. You want tasting notes ? On Christmas Eve ?
The lads stuck to the hot dogs, a wise if messy choice.
And the soundtrack ?
retiredmartin 
I’m curious what type of meat would fall under the title “hot dog” in the UK? In the US it is pretty much a frankfurter and everything else is a sausage of some type. Wide generalizations here…We had what pubcurmudgeon referred to as hot dogs in Stockport and I would have called them sausages. Very good by the way. Is hot dog the type of bun and shape of the meat?
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Hi Dave, you are correct in thinking that basically, any type of sausage stuffed into a long, finger-type roll, is known as a “hot dog” in the UK. This is because “Frankfurter” type sausages are nowhere near as popular here, as they are in the states.
The name “hot dog” though, is obviously American in origin.
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I think we would call anything with that shape of bun and meat a hot dog; certainly on the menu of the standard catering vans you’d see. I’d have said hot dog in the Bakers. The average person would think the meat was the “dog”.
Blimey, such tough questions today.
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Martin, Fuggles looked like the sensible choice for Christmas Eve, and those hot dogs that your lads had, look excellent. (They’re a fairly new addition, to the pub).
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