October 2026. Swalecliffe. Kent.
An evening in London, then a visit to see Dad in Waterbeach, where Sunnyside is aquiring new thatch,
a quick drop-in to the in-laws in Kent, then back to the coast at Rye. It never stops.
And then back up to the north Kent coast to complete another section of the Beer Guide,
tucked away between Whitstable and Herne Bay.
The most interesting thing about Swalecliffe-cum-Chestfield seemed to be a painting of a moth, a garden tiger moth reckons ChatGPT, above the beach huts.
Slightly irritatingly, we were in a campervan within a bucket and spade’s throw of Swalecliffe last December; I could virtually have walked to the Brickfield Micropub from our Tankerton car park.
I know what you’re thinking.
“A north Kent micro ? Another one !“.
I’ve softened a bit since the dawn of micros, when the Thanet pioneers were sometimes dominated by high tables and dour locals, and the Brickfield is just a great small pub.
Mrs RM picks the murky Crumb from the last batch of Northdown (RIP) brews, like my Romney Golden a cool, chewy 4 (VERY GOOD).
But the beer is secondary to the interplay between the jolly and endlessly interesting regulars, comparing notes on round the world cruises in ’68 and voicenotes.
One chap seems to have Shazammed a track he likes, which appear to be by the High Flying Birds.
“How old are they, then ?”
“Ooh, been about nearly 10 million years“
“I don’t think Noel Gallagher is quite that old” I offer. It was funny at the time.
A lot of cask trade, bar a bottle of Prosecco and a bottle of Ghost Ship 0.0 for the chap with insomnia.
A social melting pot, the best sort of pub, and a great finish to any county.
