Hurrah to the Civic Planners!
I can't think a place I have been more surprised by or enjoyed than Folkestone.
A promenade with sweeping sea views. A creative quarter that hints at a thriving arts scene. A blend of Victorian and Georgian architecture—my digs for the night sat in a crescent that wouldn’t look out of place in Bath. But the real standout is the Harbour Arm. Once a derelict railway line, it’s now a bustling social hub, home to everything from Club Med-style outdoor discos to tap houses tucked inside old shipping containers. It left me wondering why more towns don’t show the same kind of ambition. Build it, and they will come.
Will the 5 Good Beer Guide entries in town live up to the high standards?
Of course, there will be Micros. The Bouverie Tap being the first. Extended into the next shop, with walls covered in pubby memorabilia. Possibly of interest to me tomorrow, they open on weekends for breakfast. I may return tomorrow to add a sausage to my Caterbury Ales Friar's Ale order.
The Firkin Alehouse is a more functional micro consisting of two rooms. The front room, all hard seating and customers.The back room empty and full of comfy sofas. For a man on a six day walking mission there was only going to be one winner. I may be in competition for mileage with the owner, who has to walk from the bar to a closed off room to fetch pints (mainly from Kentish brewers). A man has never been more in need of a hatch.
I am in need of a proper pub. And the East Cliffe Tavern certainly ticks that box. On every trip, there is a standout location and this is it.
Look at the photo? Would you say it is open? I actually balanced on those stacked chairs to check Google Maps as I was convinced it was shut. Gaining confidence that it said it was open, I burst through the door. An old man that has a hint of popeye about him. A lady sat there crocheting a doily. Her husband.
And then there is the guy serving. 81 years young Richard. Stopped and shuffling. I order a pint which he duly pours and then looks at my card as though he has never seen one before. "Cash Only", he says.
We have a problem. I have no cash. He shrugs he shoulders and says, "I can have it for free".
Pubs are never going to survive with this business model, so I gain instructions on the nearest cash machine. Crochet lady offers to walk me there. I tell her that's very kind but I don't need chaperoning.
I'm sure that to a person, they thought I wouldn't be coming back. But I have stories to tell. The lad walking past me at the ATM cries out in pain. A victim of a drive-by shooting with someone armed with an air-rifle. Maybe I did need chaperoning after all.
I return and spend 90 minutes drinking god knows what... a tasty Kentish Pale Ale the only cask but I was that absorbed in conversation with the three regulars that Untapped took a back seat.
About what? Well I cannot help but spread gossip when I tell you that Popeye's ex-wife went on to marry his sister and they all lived together for 7 years.
With pint one gone, I had to ask if Richard had fallen asleep before ordering a second. Slumped in a chair and snoring the response was "Yeah, he does that!". I didn't feel I knew him well enough to wake him, so they shouted "Richard!". He was up like a boxer on the count of nine.
An incredible experience. I had enough cash to stay longer and get into the rounds that my new friends were insisting upon but more work is required.
And my cash will go a lot further in the grandest of 'spoons. The Samuel Peto (named after the builder of Nelson's Column) is a grand old church. Lit up at night, with bouncers on the doors and the Folkestone Youth getting trollied on £2.29 Cask Jaipur. Not often that I am in a JDW on a Saturday night. All life is within.
Sunday, and I realised that I had missed a micro. Easily done. Kipps Alehouse the pick of the three micros in town, with the most eclectic and interesting beer collection. Zot on draught at not extortionate prices is always a pleasure.
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