THE SHARING TABLES IN RYE’S WATERWORKS

October 2026. Rye.

A stormy weekend scuppered my plans for the train to Hayward’s Heath, perhaps the UK’s dullest town.

But with a short interlude between gales (caravan still standing) we took the bus into Rye for a pint and managed to nip in its most regular GBG pub just before noon opening.

I’m surprised “regular” isn’t a beer name at the Waterworks, whose beers are all toilet themed.

U-Rye-nal, Pissoir Porter and the flagship “I Pee Alot”, which is evidence if needed that home brew beers can be sublime.

That IPA has been EXCELLENT on two recent visits, the sort of pint that makes you turn to Mrs RM and say “This, this, is the epitome of the brewer’s craft“. And she’ll say “Can I have another one then ?“.

Great bar snacks, too, and the only issue I have with the Waterworks is that it’s too busy. Turn up at 10 past instead of 10 to and you’re scambling.

The Guvnor bangs a gong (probably for sale, like everything else in the pub), and tells us how things work (PRESS : PLAY).

Well, it’s not exactlyt Brunning & Price, is it ? I move up onto the cushions to free up space for a couple of young New Zealanders to join us, and we have a heartwarming chat about kumara chips and pub culture and the risk that the table we’re sitting at might be sold quicker than those tea towels.

And, suddenly, the Waterworks feels like the pub that ought to win national awards.

A bit like the next one, in fact.

38 thoughts on “THE SHARING TABLES IN RYE’S WATERWORKS”

    1. Southern prices, maybe, but at least the cobs are decent and basic, and served without unnecessary and unwanted accompaniments, such as, crisps, lettuce (rabbit food) or any other garnishes that provide an excuse for many pubs to bump the prices up.

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      1. £10 for a tea towel is Southern prices.
        Lettuce should only be eaten by rabbits in moderation. I though regularly buy a lettuce from the greengrocers in town and finish it within a week – part of a healthy diet that also includes proper beer.

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      2. Paul, but I wasn’t meaning to disagree with you. All too often when ordering pub food I’m having to say “No this, no that and no the other please” – cheese or coleslaw rather than crisps or lettuce though.

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      3. Indeed, TSM.

        Pub fish and chips take longest.

        “No tartar sauce. No burnt lemon. No sprinkling of pea shoots. Just chips. Not chunky or skin-on. No ketchup. No mayonnaise (mayo as the septics call it)…oh, could I possibly have some vinegar please?”

        You get the idea..

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      4. Proper order Paul.
        The late Shane Warne’s favourite snack was lasagne in a big floury bap.
        I, myself, have been known to put the scrapings of a shepherd’s pie into a Morrison’s salt and pepper bap. HP as a noncey dipping sauce. Putting a lettuce anywhere near a bap should be forbidden under a local by-law.
        You’ll notice I use bap rather than cob because well, that’s what a cob is.
        Also the first name of Mrs PPT’s favourite singer. We travelled everywhere watching this feller who used to front a great London Irish pub band Energy Orchard. Passed away a few years ago.
        I chose an alcohol-based song of his. There’s a guest appearance at the end by someone who agreed to do it but only in one take. They recorded his vocals in an upstairs room at the Boogaloo pub in North London.

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      5. “I use bap rather than cob because well, that’s what a cob is”.
        PPT, A cob ( if not referring to a bad mood ) is a bap with a proper crust where I come from.

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      6. Thanks for the correction, Martin, but the Proper Spelling is actually mahonnaise, named after Mahon in Menorca, where the French defeated the British in the eponymous battle and invented it – if you ask me. And it’s “envisage”, not “envision” too…

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  1. A pub called the Waterworks immediately reminded me of BRAPA, but on checking, I find he didn’t like it. Maybe caught it on a bad day.
    £4.00 for a cob is on the high side but not entirely out of order for a decent one.
    Like the gong. Rather than the band of the same name, it reminds me of T Rex, “get it on, bang a gong, get it on”. No, I don’t know what the Boppin’ Elf was on about either.

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      1. Yes indeed Martin, I’m sure that’d make a nice change for Lana from the solo travelling she’s into at the moment.

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      1. Most of my blog views come from China these days, though I suspect a data farm is speed reading the posts so that AI can advise folk how to order a pint in the Honey Pot in Maidenhead.

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      2. Nice then that there’s probably been a chuckle or two in the Far East from the Rye / Lye comments.
        Maybe best though not to start on that “Whisk(e)y (i)n Rye” lyric !

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      3. Sadly our website stats mean nothing nowadays. As you say, most visits are from machines not humans now, and not in this country either.

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  2. Finally, can you – if possible – ask Mrs RM to take up residence, so that we can all say as you suggest to her when we visit?

    Thanks Martin.

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  3. From the Guardian website :

    ” Two news organisations have a duty to the public and their sources to publish allegations of exploitative sexual behaviour by a well-known figure despite claims he is “highly likely” to attempt suicide, the high court has heard.

    The anonymous individual, known in court simply as PPT … ”

    I know how he feels – three hours on the self-assessment helpline whilst refraining from unleashing a torrent of Basil Fawlty abuse at the halfwit I was dealing with can test any man.

    To keep it pub I’ll just add half a gallon of cool Bass from the jug in the Star Inn has re-invigorated me.

    Round two tomorrow.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Basil Fawlty in your case, Prof? More Victor Meldrew in mine.

    I went out early this morning after the refuse collection to bring in the recycling bags and food caddy, to find a dog owner patiently and obediently waiting, staring vacantly into the middle distance, while their Object Of Worship pissed copiously and lengthily over them.

    I’ve had my collar felt for the appropriate action under such circumstances, so stuck to words on this occasion..

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    1. I hear you, old cock.
      Really small things that get right on your goat.
      Like, I keep telling people the stripes in Bacon Fries come from real beetroot.
      No-one believes me.
      Ever.

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