Undertrees Farm B&B, Kent - Review

So 1730hrs came, we (temporarily) left the pub in Stodmarsh town, and wound our way up the pothole-filled country lane, through the unmistakably flat Kent landscape (great for UFO spotting apparently, the sky seems so *huge* compared to hilly Surrey)-

-to the B&B, where another couple were busy unloading suitcases from their car (giving us confidence that the tomtom had led us to precisely the right place, even though we had noted that it was indeed a house, certainly under some trees and definitely in the middle of farm land, which did match the name we had scribbled on our bit of paper)... ;)

Struggling up to the front door dragging our weekend bags, a little surprise occurred, revealing exactly the sort of place we had booked ourselves in to...the front door had been left unlocked (and, actually, remained so for the duration of our visit) and this note was laying on the doormat, inviting us to come in and make ourselves comfortable, which we did...unfortunately it was more like half an hour we were left waiting, rather than the documented "5 minutes", but when our host arrived (a lovely lady called Jane, whom we instantly forgave) she showed us up to our rooms (we got the one at the front of the house) of the two to choose from (the choice was ours, so I dashed into the slightly larger, brighter one and dumped the bags down, feeling all smug with myself)...

...which actually just looked like someones guest room, not a traditional "room in a B&B" at all (well, apart from the kettle in the corner), complete with (absolutely tiny) en-suite (I could barely turn around in the shower, but then I am quite big, I guess) -

- the other thing we noted was that not one of the windows in the whole house had any curtains, just large wooden shutters, and the windows were single glazed, which meant that it did actually get quite cold when the wind started rattling them (must be a nightmare of a place to keep warm), luckily, on the end of the bed was an old fashioned feather eiderdown (we were obviously not the first people in this room to suffer a little with the chill), and snuggled under that the bed got very cosy, very quickly...which was fine...

Breakfast in the morning was an excellent affair, you can choose when you want it (within reason) and opt for either a full English or a continental, it starts with (what certainly tasted like) freshly squeezed orange juice and a selection of warm bread/croissants/hot cross buns with butter and marmalade, cereal, tea or coffee, and then a very fine example of the classic British invention (really good sausage, free range eggs, mushrooms, tomato, bacon etc.)...dunno why, but at home all I can usually face for breakfast is a small yogurt - something just happens to me when I'm away - I somehow seem to be able to eat like a hungry bulldog without ever really feeling like I've had enough, this meant that Archie (the resident Golden Retriever), who begged *extremely* hard for a morsel, even at one point doing the full one-paw-in-the-air-with-head-cocked-to-the-side manoeuvre (which *very* nearly worked), had to resort to plan B - i.e. stealing leftovers from the dishwasher, which he got away with three times during our meal (to noisy scolds, chasing him from the kitchen by his mum)...quite charming... ;)

So, to sum up, it's not miles away from Canterbury (about ten or fifteen minutes in the car, depending on the traffic), near to an absolutely fantastic pub with great food (well within walking distance on a pleasant summer evening - just wish we had been there on a pleasant summer evening), it's a really quiet place (just fields as far as the eye can see) and it's not being run like a business...imagine staying in a functioning family home as the guest of a friend of a friend and you won't be far off the mark, you won't see any signs saying "Private", and you'll feel inclined to kindly thank your host after you have watched her slaving away at the stove to cook your breakfast, which you eat at the family kitchen table (discussing with the other guests and your host what your coming day will consist of)...perhaps not everyones cup of tea, but for us a very enjoyable, and probably almost unique way to get to see this interesting part of the country...and to think, we were considering the travelodge! ;)

The Red Lion pub, Stodmarsh

Back to our Anniversary weekend in Canterbury (again), so set wayback machines to last Friday, mid-afternoon, as we left Canterbury town (through heavy traffic), eventually following the tomtom directions down a succession of narrow, pothole filled single-track roads (meeting a steady stream of traffic coming in the other direction and having to swerve into muddy passing places), we had played it safe and left quite a lot of time before check in time at the B&B (1730hrs), so we had decided we would check out the local pub in the village "proper" (the B&B was in the middle of a field right on the periphery, a few minutes drive away) -

- we pulled into "town", unable to park outside the pub as there were a number of chickens using the space for grub scratching -

- so we parked the bug just across the road, and headed indoors (the plain exterior belying what lay within) -

- the first thing that struck me as I walked through the door was the distinct aroma of cigarette smoke, something that is so unfamiliar to me now, that it struck me as extremely out of the ordinary - there was a large roaring log fire though, so I guess I could have been mistaken as to the exact aroma (I peered suspiciously at the coy-looking locals as I passed), the second sign that things weren't quite normal was, upon ordering a drink, to note that fine quality top hats were being utilized as drip trays...the barman, Robert Whigham, made an immediate impression by both strongly resembling Terry Thomas and doing an extremely good impression of him (vocally), "Oh really, your wife is pregnant? That's funny, so am I! And so are all these ladies!", when we enquired about the dinner menu he said "Oh we've got some lovely Tees" (meaning T-bone steaks - they weren't on the menu), and when Flyingpops announced she was a vegetarian he piped up with "Well, I tell you what, how about a lovely bit of salmon, and some risotto, we've got two chefs, sure they'll cope", and then - 3 hours before I was expecting to eat - sat at the bar in the blazing spring sunshine, I actually found myself being asked how I would like my steak cooked...and Robert wrote out our order and passed it to the kitchen, ready for 1915hrs (when we were due to return) -

- it was only later, over my (fantastic) steak dinner -

- that I noticed that the toilet door was being closed with a trumpet...before I pointed it out to Flyingpops I watched it, slightly hypnotised as it soared up and down when people made their way to and from spending a penny, my mind exploring a hypothetical past for it, purchased by an aspiring musician, lovingly oiled and polished, enduring endless practice sessions until breath and button pushing were perfected, used to play concerts to appreciative crowds, perhaps Jazz, perhaps classical, after applause and elegant bow, tucked away safely each night in it's hard case...would that owner *ever* have imagined that the instrument's final resting place would be on the end of a bit of rope, in a Kent pub, making sure that the toilet door closes neatly after each merry patron has finished doing their business?

We got chatting to the patron again, after we had finished our meal, he was busy drinking away his profits (as he had been when we had popped in earlier) and he shared with us that one of his hobbies is flying helicopters, and later in the year he is going to do a helicopter pub crawl with his patrons "The only problem, you see, is that one can't enjoy a drink when flying"...

Robert Whigham...I raise my glass to you, you are unique...