I’d been meaning to get over to Tunbridge Wells and the Beau Nash Tavern for quite some time, following a blog
post from retired Martin. RM’s wife grew up in the Tunbridge Wells area,
and with her parents living at nearby Southborough, Martin and Christine are
frequent visitors to the town. The post I am referring to was one where Martin
related his thoughts about the Beau Nash and followed on from a lunchtime
session he spent there with Mrs RM and her parents. Martin’s post reminded me that it was many a year since I last
set foot in this charming establishment, so it was high time to put things
right. Tucked away behind the Royal Wells Hotel, at the top of Mount Ephraim,
overlooking the town, the Beau Nash is what is best known as a “Mews Pub.” By
that I mean the pub would have started life as a set of stables, used to house
the horses needed to transport guests, to and from the adjacent hotel. As in
most locations in the UK, the majority of these stables would have been
converted into living accommodation, as horse drawn transport declined.
My opportunity to visit the Beau Nash arose the other Saturday
when I had to call in at what is now the nearest branch of the Halifax Building
Society. I travelled over to Tunbridge Wells by bus, using my free-travel pass,
and after disembarking at Five Ways, directly opposite the town’s Royal
Victoria Place shopping centre, proceeded towards the Halifax. Despite arriving
fully prepared with the necessary documentation, it became apparent that the
Halifax was quite blatantly, attempting to discourage in-person visits, by promoting
the notion that everything could be done online.
Unfortunately, they misunderstood my needs, as there ARE
certain situations where human interaction is irreplaceable. All I wanted to do
was to transfer funds from a recently matured ISA, into a new one, and having
already found the online process for doing this, unnecessarily complex, wanted
to speak to a member of staff who could guide me through this. It was
definitely a real-life case of “computer says no,” because the stony-faced
employee was about as much use as a chocolate teapot. I witnessed another
customer giving short shrift to the counter clerk who suggested he download the
Halifax app. This gentleman, who looked considerably older than me, informed the
cashier in no uncertain terms, that he used his phone to talk with people, and at
his time of life, didn’t want to start learning about apps!
Full marks there, as his concerns resonated with me. It seems as if every organisation one deals with today, regards their app as the best thing since sliced bread and promotes it without thought or question, neglecting the fact that these features
can quickly clog up the memory of a mobile phone. As the disgruntled customer
walked away, I told him that I agreed with him.
This didn’t appear to do me any favours, when it was my turn to talk to Nurse Ratched, although she did at least hand me a card with a
helpline number printed on the back. She added that the people on the end of
that line might be able to help, although she was still insistent that it would
be easier to sort out my transfer request online.
Feeling frustrated, rather than enlightened, I left the
building society, crossed the road, and walked up the hill toward Tunbridge
Wells Common. I paused on the way, to take some photos, including a few of two
houses built on rocky outcrops, overlooking the town below. At the summit of
Mount Ephraim, I passed the impressive looking Royal Wells Hotel, before turning
into the narrow alley leading to the Beau Nash. When I first became familiar
with this pub, back in the mid-1980’s, it was a well-regarded establishment known
for offering beers that were unusual for the area. It’s hard to believe then
that Harvey’s was one such beer, despite being brewed just 30 miles away, down
the road in Lewes.
As I walked along the narrow passage towards the pub, its bright
green exterior seemed different to what I remembered, although it did look
attractive in the bright mid-morning sunshine. I passed a couple of fellas, in morning
dress with white, button hole
carnations, fixed to their jacket lapels. They were obviously on their way to a wedding, but as it wasn’t clear who was the groom,
and who was the best man, I wished them both good luck. They thanked me with
a grin, whilst I headed toward the pub entrance. Before entering, I could see
around the corner and into the courtyard behind. In a short while I
would sitting out there too, but first I had a pint to order, plus a pub
interior to reacquaint myself with.
The cool, and slightly dim interior of the Beau Nash, with
its colourful stained-glass windows, did bring back a few memories, especially
of the days when I thought Tunbridge Wells was a really exotic place to visit. Internally,
there was much wood panelling, a solid wooden floor, wooden tables, chairs and
sofas and which together with warm orange lighting, induced a cosy atmosphere. Apart
from the bar staff, there were only a couple of customers inside, as most were
sitting out in the courtyard, taking advantage of the fine weather.
I walked up to the bar where I was faced by an attractive
looking bank of hand pumps, but only one beer. It was Harvey’s Best, of course,
and given my previous knowledge of the pub, what else could it be? So, I ordered
a pint of Lewes’s finest, alongside a bag of plain crisps, and headed outside,
but not before I’d taken a few photos of the interior. I found a shady spot
where I could sit and indulge in a spot of people-watching, whilst at the same
time admiring the well-laid out pub garden, whose existence I was totally unaware
of until that moment. It was set on two different levels, and nicely laid out
on with contemporary, but comfortable furniture, with areas of shade as well as
full sun. All in all, there was a general good vibe about the place.
I got stuck into my pint of Sussex, although I didn’t rush
because I knew I’d have to drive once I got back to Tonbridge, so could only have the one pint. Mrs PBT’s wanted
me to chauffeur her to the supermarket, to pick up some food shopping. I swear
she does this deliberately to curtail my visits to the pub, as whilst we do
need a weekly shop, let’s make do with one expedition, rather than several! Second rant of the day over, and after finishing my beer, I
headed back along Mount Ephraim, passing the site of the long-demolished Kent
& Sussex (“Kent and Snuff it”, as it was jokingly called), but the site is now occupied by an upmarket, residential development. Not quite a “gated” one, but it might
as well be.
I’d probably just missed a bus, and there was quite a wait for the
next one, so would my bladder hold out, even after a single pint? More
importantly, would the public toilets, opposite Tonbridge station be open, or
would the little “scrotes” have been up to their mischief, causing criminal damage?
These little “treasures” will be old one day, and I sincerely wish they get
caught in a place where there are no toilet facilities. Luckily, the facilities were open, and even more fortuitously, I only
had a to wait a couple of minutes for the 219 bus, a service that saves a long,
slow and tiring walk up Pembury Road, a thoroughfare that seems to go on
forever!
