Good Beer Guide Ticks - #666 and #667
It's at Sittingbourne that I am reminded that Kent is the land of the Micropub.
From this point on, the Saxon Shore Way can only provide us with one more Good Beer Guide Tick that isn't a converted haberdashery. Or a florist.
My own views on the Micro have softened slightly over the years. There is probably a German word for the "fear of being stared at by strangers with a pint on a go". If there isn't, then Micros haven't made it to the Fatherland.
Now, if done properly, I think Micros are likely to be the future of our High Street. Think Swinton's House of Hops - not troubling the Good Beer Guide (yet) - but offering Ayinger Winterbock on draught at Christmas time. Choice, delivered with passion and an international experience without locator forms.
With the value of pub real estate worth more for flat re-development and crippling heating bills, shop conversions could be the future. It's not like there aren't a lot of shops standing empty in these sunlit uplands.
Once we find Sittingbourne's High Street - buried behind new build housing and supermarkets - we have a full house of 3 micro ticks to aim for.
Donna's Ale House, 20 West Street
Closed on a Monday, for the fully authentic Micro Experience.
Yellow Stocks, 22 High Street, Iron Pier Bitter
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| Only a fool would photo a micro face on. |
Through the door of this former clothes shop and just a couple of punters to stare at us. We would stare back but I'm too busy staring the board to try and sound knowledgeable. One good choice now and we can win the confidence of the locals.
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| I went for Gravesend's Iron Pier |
Our landlord disappears behind a magic curtain to a temperature controlled cellar room, where the beer is gravity dispensed. A head, a head, my kingdom for a head.
A nice little garden with a stage setup for more buzzing nights than a Monday.
The Paper Mill, 2 Charlotte Street, Cloudwater Chubbles 53 Degree North
An old corner terrace house, nearly totally engulfed by new builds.
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| Getting close to the 8pm closing time |
We would have sneaked in but a little bell announced our arrival. Not that a low key entry was possible. All our fellow boozers are sat on bench seating along the exterior walls of a tiny room. And this includes the dogs, who are possibly compulsory for attendance.
Everyone shuffles around so we have somewhere to sit but the next patrons will not be so lucky.
Beer-wise, this is much more like it, even if we do go keg. They have had a Cloudwater Tap Takeover on the weekend and we are provided with a menu. Mrs M comments on my Untappd check-in that I have selected the one that looks like a bloody water infection. One day, I will ask her to guest blog.
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| Check the time - we have a Micro "Lock In" |
Conversation easily attained. They have questions - "where are you boys from. What brings you to Sittingbourne?". We have questions "Where is the best Indian in town?". Our Saxon Shore Way Odyssey is met with advice.
"Keep off the Shepherd's Neame Masterbrew" is delivered with a level of foreboding not heard since the Slaughtered Lamb regulars told two Americans to not leave the path.
The crib board comes out.
The impact of drinking delicious pints of 7% Mancunian sludge leads me to declare that I am the Smethwick's all conquering Crib Champion (1984-1989) in the hope of getting a game.
It fails, but I am allowed to referree. Successfully counting a 21 point hand proves my veracity.
"One for his knob" has not made it into Kentish crib vernacular.
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