Rotherfield, at last

On Friday, I finally crossed Rotherfield off from my list of pub places to visit. This followed one reconnaissance visit, whilst on the return journey of a bus trip to neighbouring Mayfield, and then a failed attempt, two weeks later as part of a CAMRA bus outing. The latter was the result of the dreaded, “essential” roadworks – notice how such disruptive activities are always “essential” but as I wrote in a blog post at the time, “the driver advised that due to road works, narrow country lanes, and a not quite so narrow bus, the 51 would not be calling at Rotherfield until the works were finished.”

So, with Mrs PBT’s up to her arms, in a pile of VAT returns for her clients in the construction industry, I was free to go off exploring, despite volunteering to make a start on the next kitchen-refurb project. My bus journey from Tunbridge Wells, still wasn’t all plain sailing, as services were running late due to, you guessed it, yet more roadworks. This time it was the Pantiles area of the town where the first holdup occurred, followed by yet more holes in the road and more temporary traffic lights causing mayhem on both sides of Frant – a two-pub village on the A267. Consequently, I arrived in Rotherfield some 25 minutes later than I should have done.

No matter, I was finally in the village, and there were two pubs waiting for me to walk through their doors and sample their wares. Before describing the pubs, here’s some background information about the village. Rotherfield was originally a Saxon settlement in an area generally covered with oak forest. It stands on high ground, surrounded by areas of cleared woodland, and the hill on which the village stands is the source of the River Rother, which drains much of East Sussex. The river bubbles up from a spring, before commencing a 30-mile journey along the Kent-Sussex border to the sea at Rye Harbour.

Rotherfield is one of the largest parishes in East Sussex and encompasses the neighbouring villages of Mark Cross and Eridge. In modern times it has been eclipsed in size and importance by the neighbouring settlement of Crowborough, leaving Rotherfield as something of a backwater. Today the village has a population of 1,222 persons and is generally considered a nice location to live. From personal observation, Rotherfield seems much more workaday than nearby Mayfield, which I visited back in August. The latter seems to be a place where plenty of money abounds, giving it a more upmarket feel. I also wrote, following my late summer visit, that the Mayfield had a slight “alternative” feel to it.

None of this was evident on a cold, but bright November day, as I walked up the hill from the bus stop, into the centre of Rotherfield, to the T-junction at the top of the hill separates the village's two remaining pubs. These are the slightly upmarket Kings Arms to the left, and the more down to earth, Catts Inn to the right. I opted for the latter hostelry to begin with, in the knowledge that this “wet-led” pub, would provide that welcoming, first pint. I could then gravitate to the Kings Arms for a second pint, plus a bite to eat.

The Catts Inn is a community village local, with a quiet bar at the front, for conversation and general socialising, plus a separate games and TV room at the rear. It was bought by a family-owned, independent pub company in 2019 from Enterprise Inns, and being free from the constraints of this large pub chain, is now free to stock a range of beers to suit. Having said that, Harvey’s Best was the only cask option available at the time of my visit, although it was in excellent form. The building is said to date from 1741, and its bare wooden floors, plus plain unadorned walls, mark it out as a pub of character. As mentioned above, food is no longer available at the Catts Inn, but customers are encouraged to order in take away food when plates, cutlery, etc will be provided.

There was just one other customer sitting at the bar, when I entered the bar, but after I’d ordered my pint, of Sussex Best, and inquired about bus times with Lee the barman– see photo at top, I was drawn into conversation with the pair, who wanted to know (in a friendly sort of way), what had brought me to Rotherfield, and the Catts Inn. I explained that I was semi-retired and enjoyed the occasional bus trip out to hard to get to pubs. Satisfied that my intentions were honest and that I wasn’t there to steal their wives and daughters, the conversation opened up. The chap sitting at the bar had lived in the village all his life, and had attended the nearby, prestigious Matfield College, as a daybed. His father had been the village butcher, and whilst there are still a number of shops in Rotherfield, including the village stores, with its post office, plus the inevitable antiques shop, commercial activity has declined, as in so many rural settlements.

I mentioned that I was after something to eat, so was advised to head over to the Kings Arms, before the pub stopped taking food orders at 2pm. It seemed that a healthy relationship exists between the two pubs, which is good.  There used to be a third pub in Rotherfield, called the George, but this 700-year-old pub closed its doors for the last time in 1998, and is now a private residence. Also closed, but not in the village itself, is the quirky sounding, Bicycle Arms, at Argos Hill, a mile or so to the south of Rotherfield.  Fortunately, the Kings Arms is still trading, and it was literally a short hop across the road to this 17^th Century former coaching inn, but before departing the Catts, my new-found friend at the bar, insisted on taking a photo of me, on my own phone. It’s reproduced at the top of this post.

After pushing open the heavy wooden entrance door to the Kings Arms, I encountered a heavy curtain, suspended from a circular rail. Obviously designed to keep out the cold, the curtain reminded me of pubs in the Czech Republic and Bavaria, where freezing-cold winters are the norm, and such protections against icy draughts are essential. The pub’s heavily beamed ceilings, walls of exposed brick, and open hearth, complete with a blazing log fire, were just what I expected. The beer offering was also welcoming with Dark Star Hophead, and Long Man Long Blonde complementing the ubiquitous Harvey’s Best. I went for the Long Blonde, which was pale, cool and refreshing, although perhaps not the ideal beer for a cold winter’s day.

Conscious that the kitchen might soon be closing I ordered myself a BLT baguette. It arrived with the seemingly obligatory chips, but with nice fresh, crusty bread, bacon that was well-smoked and equally crisp, it was a welcome, but not too filling spot of lunch. The young couple behind the bar were professional and engaging, and their efforts were seemingly appreciated by the handful of diners in the pub. There is a larger room, behind the serving area, but I didn’t explore further, as I was keeping an eye on the time. The No. 51 bus operates an hourly service, and I didn’t want to miss the next departure to Tunbridge Wells. Fortunately, the Stagecoach website gives real time departure information, so I was able to finish my food and drink and walk down to the bus stop in sufficient time for the 14:40 departure. 

My route to the bus stop took me through the extensive terrace and garden area at the rear of the Kings Arms. With its views over the High Weald, it’s the perfect spot for al-fresco dining during the summer months, and there’s even an outside kitchen, bar and toilets - points worth remembering for future visits. So, that’s another High Weald village and it pubs ticked off, although I'd like a return visit to explore Rotherfield a bit more thoroughly. But where to next?

 

Nothing lost in translation

 

One would have thought that switching to part time working would have meant a significant increase in the amount of available leisure time. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem to have worked out that way, and whilst this is partially my own fault, I’m sure it’s a situation that many people encounter as they loosen their connections with the world of work.

After a most enjoyable day out in Bath at the start of the month, I found myself thrown back into an ongoing project at work with a vengeance. Not a problem, as we are making good progress with our plans to upgrade and expand our production facilities. Far less fruitful, was the  Safety & Cyber Security Audit, which took place the following week. It was carried out by our Japanese parent company and was, shall we say an “interesting experience”. Cyber security is definitely of high importance for companies in this day and age, especially those operating in the field of e-commerce. 

We don't fall into that category, but earlier in the year, one of our customers - a major international player in the dental industry, had their entire IT system hacked and taken off-line. As if this wasn't bad enough. the ransom demands that followed were even more "inconvenient." My understanding is the company in question had to rebuild their IT system from the bottom up, and then repopulate their customer database. Not wishing to fall foul of such a scam, prompted our parent company to tighten up on procedures, which is why they sent five compliance personnel halfway across the globe to audit us, an then their main European sales and marketing division, which is based in Germany.

We were advised that the audit was a “corporate necessity,” as the group is listed on the Tokyo Stock Exchange. Fortunately, as company Safety Advisor, I was able to demonstrate adequate compliance in this field, but they seem to forget that we are just a tenth of the size of their operation in Japan. This mean having to sit through an overly long session on cyber security, and if anyone wanted to find an example of Parkinson’s Law, where “work expands to fill the time available for its completion,” then this was it. 

An interesting aside was the use of an outside interpreter, which is something of a first for the interactions between us and Japan. However, the charming and distinguished looking septuagenarian Japanese gentleman who turned up, was worth his weight in gold for the way he took charge of the meeting, and ensured everything stayed on track. He had the ability to simultaneously translate what had been said, whilst at the same time listening to what was being said, in order to translate the next package of information. 

All this reminded me of a previous occasion when I had to engage an interpreter when we were audited by representatives from the Kazakhstan Health Ministry. This was on behalf of the aforementioned German sales division. Kazakh-speaking interpreters weren't easy to come by, so I was advised to engage a Russian-speaking translator instead.  The person I found, was a tall and very striking blonde, Russian woman who, as she later revealed, had been a member of the Russian Special Forces! So, not someone to fall out with, but fortunately, as with our Japanese interpreter, she was professional and possessing the same abilities to ensure that all those present were singing from the same hymn-sheet. I've gone seriously off topic, but when recent events invoke memories of past, similar occurrences, it's often worth bringing them to the fore.

A decoration/refurbishment project on the home front occupied most of the following weekend, although it did earn me more than a few brownie points from Mrs PBT’s. Our kitchen window now has a blind that not only looks good, but operates correctly. The downside was the project took longer than first though (these exercises invariably do). and left me feeling too tired to attend the launch of the new season’s Porter, from Larkin’s, a staggered event that took place at both branches of Fuggles Beer Cafés (Tonbridge and Tunbridge Wells). It was an event I’d been particularly looking forward to, and the annoying thing is, I still haven’t managed to find the beer on sale, anywhere else. This is despite online searches of those pubs, that are likely to stock the beer. There’s still plenty of time, though!

Some friends who have tried this season’s offering, claim that it is not as good as previous year’s, but when there’s period of say, half a year between the end of one year’s offering and the start of the next, then it’s hard, and also a little unfair to make such comparisons. It’s also a rather pointless exercise, given the seasonal nature of such beers. The final point here, comes from a highly experienced home-brewer I know, but unfortunately a person who allows his own strong opinions to cloud his judgment. This particular individual claims that Larkin’s Porter is a strong mild, rather than a true porter – a view I strongly disagree with.

Several weeks ago, I managed to pick up a 10 bottle, Kalea Wiesn-Tragerl pack, from out local Lidl store. This is the second year running that I managed to acquire one, although as Pub Curmudgeon points out, the packs were rather late in appearing this year – mid-October, which is a month later than in 2023. I know this, because I obtained last year’s box shortly before we disappeared on a Mediterranean cruise, that meant we were out of the country, for much of October.

The packs this year are identical to those available last year, so as I wrote about the beers then, and Mudgie has written extensively about them here, I shan’t repeat myself. Despite saying that I would leave my selection until the Christmas break (holidays, for American readers), before sampling, I succumbed to temptation this evening and cracked open a bottle of Falter – Pichelsteiner Festbier 5.9% abv, and very good it is too. Pub Curmudgeon’s blog piece includes tasting notes, so check these out if you want to learn more. 

And so, at the start of another long weekend, there’s another, albeit smaller home-related project looming, in the form of a decent mirror for the bathroom. As with the kitchen blind, it’s a question of too much choice, rather than too little. With any luck though, I shall factor in a pub visit or two, and you never know there might be the chance of some Larkin’s Porter.

A birthday treat of pie, mash and liquor, sandwiched between a couple of London's finest heritage pubs

It was the lad’s birthday this weekend, and as well as going out for a meal, or perhaps ordering a decent takeaway, to mark the occasion, Matthew informed me that he fancied popping up to London for some pie and mash. This was after his interest was sparked by the following incident. A couple of months ago, whilst driving back from Northumberland, we were caught up in the traffic chaos caused by closures of the M25 and the Blackwall Tunnel. We ended up driving through Greenwich, where our route took us past the legendary Goddard's Pie & Mash shop.

We’d visited Goddard's a couple of years previously, and seeing the shop decked out in its traditional white and green livery, kindled a desire to once again sample this traditional London delicacy. Goddard's had been rather crowded, during our July 2022 visit, so we both had a look, online at alternatives. We were surprised to discover that despite dozens of these most traditional of fast-food joints having closed down over recent years, there are still 40 or so still trading in the capital.

One outlet that caught my eye was that of F. Cooke, a family run business who opened their first pie shop in the 1860s. The family run four pie & mash shops, including one in Hoxton (the others are either in Essex or Hertfordshire), so after reading some good reviews we decided that Hoxton would be the easiest of Cooke’s outlets, for us to get to. This area of north London is still relatively central and is also close to a couple of CAMRA National Heritage Pubs, that I had in mind for us to visit.

It was after midday that we boarded a London-bound train, surprised to find plenty of empty seats on what was only a 4-car train. Alighting at London Bridge, we transferred onto a Thameslink train, travelling just a few stops across the Thames to Farringdon. From there, it was just a short walk to Smithfield Market which, with its cast iron columns and ornate curved roof girders, still operates as a working meat market, although not for much longer. The historic market is due to relocate to a £1 billion high-tech new site in Dagenham, thereby ending over 800 years of trading meat in Central London.

Most of Smithfield’s activities take place in the early hours of the morning, typically between midnight and 7am, so it was no surprise to find the place quiet, and almost deserted when Matthew and I walked through some twelve hours later, but it was liquid nourishment that we were after, rather than the more solid type. Quite a few years ago, I set myself the task of visiting as many of the “Heritage” pubs listed on CAMRA’s National Inventory as possible. Originally this meant all pubs with a “Red Star” listing on the Heritage Pub Website, or in other words every pub with an historic interior of national importance. I have been doing this quietly, without fuss or fanfare, for the past 10 years or more, although recently CAMRA changed the rating system, to a simpler system of three categories of historic pub interior - Three Star, Two Star and One Star.

Without going into too much detail, Three Star pubs represent the highest category, and One Star the lowest, but all entries are special in their own right. For further details, click here. As London contains the highest concentration of inventory pubs, and for this reason I try, whenever possible, to “tick off” a heritage pub or two. Friday afternoon was no exception, and “just in case” I had selected a provisional list of possible pubs to stop off at, in between our visit to the pie and mash shop.

Back to Smithfield, where there just happened to be the first of two “heritage” pubs that were on my list of places to visit that day. Situated down a narrow side street to the east of Smithfield market, lies the Hand & Shears, a grade 1 listed building, that is a rare, intact example of a Victorian pub layout. Several doorways each lead into separate drinking spaces around the central servery, including a Saloon and a cosy Private Bar, with an unusual pair of curved doors at the corner entrance adding to the appeal of this unspoiled gem. The pub has served the Smithfield area, in various guises since 1523, although the current building dates from Victorian times. The unusual name relates to the pub’s association with the medieval Guild of Merchant Tailors and the cloth trading that would have taken place at the former Bartholomew’s Fair.

I must admit, I’d never heard of the Hand & Shears, before researching suitable watering holes for Friday’s trip, although I did wonder why the pub hadn’t registered on my radar before. It is a real delight, and to use an over-worked cliché it really is like stepping back in time. Despite our visit taking place at lunchtime, the place wasn’t too busy, and whilst there was a group of drinkers occupying the bar at the rear. We made or way to the adjacent bar, with its ancient clock hanging above the fireplace, and had the place to ourselves until a couple of rather smart-looking, “ladies that lunch” turned up, possibly city-types, but both getting stick into a roll each, along with a glass or two of white wine.

Beer rather than wine was the tipple of choice for Matthew and me, with Madri for the lad and Draught Bass for me. The latter was drinking rather well, and it was good to see this Burton classic on sale in a city pub, something that several decades ago would have been commonplace. Taylor’s Landlord was the other cask offering, although according to the pub’s website, a house beer brewed specially by Portobello Brewery, is also on sale.

It was time to move on, and find a spot of lunch for this couple of Kentish lads, but this is where I messed up slightly. I had it fixed in my mind’s eye, the Hoxton was quite close to Farringdon, but after looking at Google, I discovered it was a good 35 minutes’ walk away. Rather than mess around changing underground and overground lines, I decided we would walk instead. It was a bright and sunny day, and we would have the opportunity of seeing a part of London we hadn’t experienced before. That wasn’t quite true in my case as many years ago I had been pub-hunting in the part of north London, that bordered on the city. I had also visited the famous Pitfield Off-Licence former home to the Pitfield Brewery, that had paid a pivotal role in the capital’s burgeoning cask ale scene, back in the 1980’s.

Pitfield Street runs parallel to Hoxton Street, where the pie and mash shop of F. Cooke is situated. This part of London is both vibrant and culturally diverse, so there was plenty going on, but towards the end of the road, in between the myriad of different shops of all sorts of varieties, was the place we were looking for. With its tiled frontage, plus its unmistakable façade of green and gold, Cooke’s looked worryingly empty. Hunger though had got the better of us, so we stepped inside and noticed the presence of several other diners, so we were not alone. We both opted for the traditional order of a meat pie, mashed potato, plus liquor.

Despite its slightly off-putting, bright green appearance, and strange name, liquor is a parsley sauce that is ladled liberally over both the pie and the plate, but not on the mash – as that is the final item to be added to the meal. Diners can have a more traditional looking, brown gravy, if they prefer. The pies were straight out of the oven, whilst the mash and liquor were served from saucepans, on top of a gas stove. Both could have been slightly warmer, for my liking, but that’s just me. Rather more annoying was the lack of tea (or other hot drinks), due to an issue with the hot water urn. The other issue was the shop has no customer toilets, which seemed a bit strange. The girl who served us said there were some Public Conveniences, just up the road, which indeed there was, and very well kept they were too, so full marks to Hackney Council.

On balance, we both preferred Goddard's Pie & Mash at Greenwich – it’s larger, and seemingly far more popular. It also has tea and customer toilets,  but you have to try these things and given the decline in the numbers of these traditional, Cockney shops, they all need our support. After all, where else can you purchase a substantial meal for £5.40? Upon leaving Cooke's, we walked along to Hoxton station, which is on the London Overground, and took a southbound train to Whitechapel A quick change onto the Elizabeth Line, took us back to Faringdon where, in nearby Hatton Garden, the second of the planned “Heritage Pubs” was to be found.

Ye Olde Mitre, is a traditional pub dating from 1547, tucked away in a small alleyway between Hatton Garden and Ely Place. It is believed that the property was founded for servants, at the Bishop of Ely's London house, and I remember reading that until fairly recent times, the pub was considered as part of Cambridgeshire. The pub’s license was administered by Cambridgeshire magistrates, and the situation stayed that way until the 1960’s. The site and adjacent properties in Ely Place were cleared after the Crown took over the area in 1772, and the current building is believed to date from this time. Fuller's took over in 2009, but beers from other brewers' are still available. The Mitre’s early 20^th Century footprint and fittings remain almost entirely intact, vindicating my long-standing desire to visit this survivor from a bygone age.

Ye Olde Mitre is situated at the end of a narrow alley that today forms an overspill area for drinkers crowded out from the main part of the pub. It was certainly heaving when we arrived late on Friday afternoon, but we managed to squeeze into the nearest of the Mitre’s two, wood-panelled bars. Finding Fuller’s 2024 Vintage Ale on sale at the bar was a rare sight indeed, as this 8.4% abv beer is normally sold in bottled form only. I braved a half and found it rich, strong, and warming, but slightly vinous, as is sometimes the case with beers of this strength.

There was also a Chocolate Plum Pudding, Dark Mild at a more sensible strength of 3.5% abv, and had the pub not been quite so crowded, we might have stayed to try it. We took our drinks outside, where there is a covered seating area at the end of the alley, that like the pub itself is hemmed in by the surrounding buildings, most of which are modern in construction and associated with the diamond trade which Hatton Garden is so famous for.

We left the pub, squeezing our way past drinkers, occupying the bench tables lining the alleyway, before emerging back into the bright lights of the surrounding jewellery shops, with their glitz and glitter. In the blink of an eye, we were back in the hustle and bustle of the 21^st Century, packed out with people either celebrating the end of the working week, or on their way home. We too, said goodbye to central London and made our way back to London Bridge for the train back to Tonbridge.

 

The Star continues to shine out brightly over Bath

You left our group of intrepid pub explorers, as we departed the Salamander, a pub that turned out to be something of a disappointment and headed off towards one which we all knew was going to be the star of the show – in more ways than one! We were making for the famous Star Inn, which is one of the most famous pubs in the city. A pub renowned not just for its unspoilt interior, of five interconnecting rooms but also for its impressive frontage of mellow, Bath stone, overlooking the Paragon. The latter is a street of Georgian houses with matching doors and windows which compliment the pleasing stone buildings that line both sides of the Paragon, as it leads off in a north-easterly direction away from the city centre.

The Star was first licensed as a pub in 1759, with an historic interior that was fitted out in 1928, by Gaskell & Chambers – and like me, you thought G&C only made hand pumps! Since 2001 the Star has been the principal outlet in Bath of Abbey Ales, who brew nearby and also own several other pubs in the city, including the famous Coeur de Lion. Abbey Ales also saved the Star from an uncertain future, as its owners, Bass were contemplating selling it off for other purposes.

Internally the pub has four small rooms, with wooden benches around the wood panelled walls and during the cooler months, roaring open fires provide a welcoming warmth which adds to the general feeling of coziness. As well as the Abbey Ales range, Bass is served under gravity, via large glass jugs, direct to your glass, or you can splash out on a 3-pint jug, and share it amongst your friends. The Star is one of only a handful of pubs left in the country where beer is still served in this time-honoured way, and it really is a place where time has stood still.

After being left behind by Martin, Will and Stafford Paul in their rush to get their Bass fix, I arrived at the pub with Jon and Tracey, who both hail from Somerset. I understand they met at Bath University, so their extensive knowledge of this charming Georgian city, meant they were able to point out local landmarks, as well as less obvious things concerning the surrounding buildings. Arriving at the pub, we found the advanced party waiting for us in one of the snug areas, stuck into a 3-pint jug of Bass, although us latecomers decided it would be more prudent to buy our beer by the pint.

Regardless of quantity, the Bass was excellent, even though it had an entirely flat appearance, - hence the expression “flat Bass.” Despite lacking in the head, the beer certainly wasn't lacking in condition or taste. This was my second visit to the Star, and like my first visit, back in March 2022, this wonderfully unspoilt, and characterful pub certainly didn't disappoint. It's definitely a place where one could spend the entire afternoon, and not just for the Bass, as the Star also stocks beers from local brewer Abbey Ales, as mentioned earlier.  I noticed the company’s Bell Ringer on sale, alongside a stronger dark ale, called Black Friar, but also on the bar was a collaboration beer from Five Points Brewing and Adnams.

It was therefore with more than a little disappointment that we moved on to the next pub, the strangely named, Curfew.  The latter represented the most northerly point of the day’s pub tour, but apart from the beer, which was very good, I’ve little to say about this former Wadworth pub.  Martin summed it up nicely, as a boutique-type pub that wouldn't look out of place in Tunbridge Wells, and it certainly reminded both of us of the Allkin Tap, a micro pub, which opened last year, just off the town's main shopping area.

I didn't take many photos at the Curfew, but it was a pleasant enough pub, and the staff were very welcoming. The beer selection included London Pride, St. Austell Tribute, Draught Bass, a pale ale called “Gizmo” from Electric Bear (never heard of them), plus Haka New Zealand Pale Ale, from Butcombe Brewery.  The latter proved a good choice, although the Bass was also good, according to this who tried it – but not quite on a par with the Bass at the Star. It was nearly time to move on, but before doing so, Martin had to rush off to meet Mrs RM, who had just arrived in Bath, after a 200-mile drive down from Yorkshire.

We met up with the couple at the Bell, another of Bath’s real pub gems, but one that didn’t open midweek, until 4pm. Consequently, it was starting to get dark as we walked towards the pub. Although different to the Star, the Bell is a real cracker, with a lengthy, single bar at the front of the building, which leads up to a raised area, at the opposite end of the bar. This acts as the stage, an obviously important part of a pub famed for its live music sessions. These are held, three or four times a week, leading to endorsements from no lesser luminaries than Robert Plant and Peter Gabriel. There is also a small back bar, used mainly for practice and open-mike, music sessions. The Bell was purchased in 2013 by a group of its customers, fans and workers, and is now run as a cooperative.

It was relatively quiet when we arrived, but there was a good selection of cask ales to spark our interest. These included Otter Ale, Summer Lightning, Arbor C Bomb and Palmers 200. I opted for the latter, as it must be several decades since I last enjoyed a pint from this quite localised West Country brewery, based in Bridport, Dorset. Palmers 200 was first brewed to celebrate 200 years of brewing by this family-owned company, and is a full-bodied, malt-driven beer, with a distinctive bitter finish. For me, it represented the perfect beer to end this excellent tour of Bath pubs. In case you hadn’t guessed, all the pubs visited, feature in CAMRA’s latest Good Beer Guide, a fact which might explain the inclusion of some of them on this outing.

After one of the best coffees I've had for along time, I boarded the London train and enjoyed a relaxing  journey back to Paddington. I was then and was able to make my onward connection to Tonbridge, in plenty of time. Son Matthew even picked me up from the station, enabling me to get to bed relatively early, thereby ensuring a good night’s sleep. So where next, for this group?