retiredmartin

April 2026. Royal Tunbridge Wells.

Two nights in T’Wells as we tick parents and Americans (patience !) in quick order, and on a Schorchio ! day I get a chance to see posh Kent out enjoying pubs in the sun. Perhaps.

Mrs RM has important things to do on her blog, so I leave her in the Russell to make a start in Mount Ephraim, perhaps the town’s loveliest quarter.

I mean, does your town have a milliners ?

No new pubs in Wells, despite a bit of craft excitement of late, so I’ll see how the George is doing.

I’d actually wanted to visit the Fonthill Tap in the stables, but that seems reserved for special occasions, and my visit is not a “special occasion”, remarkably.

The George is neat and tidy,

just a but upmarket for my tastes.

But having visited while I was DES driving the in-laws round, before (the Spencers all drink gin at lunchtime, it’s the law), I was keen to taste the in-house home brew properly.

It’s rare I choose the outside tables over a pub interior, the heat (no more than 20, but that’s a heatwave here) must be getting to me.

There’s a mixed crowd, the inevtable Older Dad with NYC cap and 3 schoolchildren the T Wells cliche.

“A Frenchman fell off my scooter last night” is as good as it gets. If I hear any more about his condition I’ll update you.

The Fonthill Creedence is a curate’s egg, malty and resinous and overpowering, and with questionable detritus floating at the bottom (probably spa water from the Pantiles),

but despite all that it’s a tasty, well-conditioned pint (NBSS 3.5). Better than a curate’s egg, anyway.