Margate and Garlinge

Bank Holiday and a nice sessions away day for those who didn’t have plans. After a dash for the 9.25 from Kings Cross we soon found ourselves in Margate.

Across the harbour, the large orange doors of the Harbour Arms acted as a Siren, coaxing us in.

We were early, outside stood DJ Crippsy, who was setting up for later in the day. The landlord turned up 5mins later to serve three pints of Kent ale, 2 pickled onions and an egg.

A man in a glittery hat sat next to us, who we later learnt to be Charlie. He’d been in Margate for three weeks, a holiday from his home in Sidcup as his partner was on a cruise with her sister. He was staying in a hotel at first but now slept on the seafront. He said it had been a late one, he was minesweeping leftover pints and desperados in the Wetherspoons (The Mechanical Elephant - great name).

He had apparently fallen in the harbour when he had gone to look at a boat for sale and got stuck in the sand a couple of days before. This resulted in the fire brigade coming to his rescue which ended with him being hosed down outside the Harbour Arms as he was covered in sludge.

The man in the right of the picture was in hysterics as he told the story and we had to buy Charlie a pint after that. Cider and ginger was his tipple. He joined for the photo outside.

What a start to the bank holiday festivities.

Next up in the Old Kent Market we visited the (unofficial) smallest pub in England. Enough space for probably 3 punters, and you’d be sitting on the kegs inside.

The landlord let us have a picture behind the bar after serving us three Stellas. Officially the smallest pub is The Nutshell in Bury St Edmunds, though this is only because the landlord of the Little Prince didn’t want to pay the Guiness Book of Records mob £8.5k to come and certify it. Apparently the owner of the Nutshell has been and agreed it was smaller.

Friendly landlord and if you feel claustrophobic, you can always take a stroll around the Old Kent Market where the pub is situated with your pint.

A hop from the Old Kent Market and we were in pub 3, Barnacles Freehouse. Nigel the bar manager was sat with the punters and quipped we were lucky there was space for us (there was loads of space). Great interior, wooden finish with many historic pictures of the pub and Margate in general. Twiglets available was a big plus and we had some pints of the Ramsgate ale king Gadd’s, SheSells SeaShells.

Celtic were beating Dundee Utd 9-0 on the TV. Jamie and Andy concluded their first argument of the day (what’s more of a posh boy sport - cycling or golf?). It was still quite early in the day so we decided to head to the beach for a dip before doing some shot games in the amusements. Things were looking bright for the day ahead.

Jackpot. After a little jaunt up the High Street things were feeling less touristy and more Sessions. Sheldons is everything we are about and more. Locals looked up to the ceiling as an ode to the height of Andy and Joe and then down to the floor when Jamie (who is actually a reasonable sized man) walked past in ode to their ill perceived view that he is short. Good start.

It was also an Arsenal pub with a Highbury plaque behind the bar though the locals on the day were Spurs and Irons fans.

A bloke came in with a plastic bag with something very exciting for a group of men at the bar. They agreed a price of £20 for its contents and both parties were happy with the deal.

A lady sang at the top of her lungs the intro “Aye, aye, aye, aye, aye, aye” to Toots and the Maytals’ Monkey Man as it played on the jukebox.

We did some faux jaegarbombs to clear up the losers of the amusements games before walking onward to the next pub.

Princess of Wales was next. Recommended by the owner of The Little Prince. It was rammed with a DJ just getting started for the bank holiday. Whilst they didn’t do food, a selection of bisucit, cheese cubes and pickles onions were in bowls along the bar. Locals seemed to look at us in intrigue at first though we broke the ice by smiling and making a babe in arms giggle as we past the new mother. We were in.

We sat in the garden sun trap and enjoyed the bussle. Family affair with all ages on show. You could tell this was going to be an all dayer for the majority and the music was getting louder as we left for the next establishment.

The Oxford was next and though quieter than the PoW, had a pool table which we made good use of. Jaegarbombs were 4 for a tenner which seemed obscenely good value and we ended up having 8. Joe took his own challenge to pot the remaining 7 balls of our game of killer in 10 shots. He unfortunatey did not succeed and had to do a shot.

Very friendly crowd inside, also has a dartboard though no pub darts so make sure you have your own if your attending. There was a pleasant sense of calm in the backstreets of Margate, as we wandered in the sun between pubs. Though we really should have eaten by now.

The Lord Byron was just ramping up as we arrived. Few pool tables and darts available and had a cheery vibe. Landlord happy to serve us a pint of Theakstons, which at least too us, is a rarity to have on tap nowadays.

We were pretty steamed by now and were semi arguing about nothing again. There was one last pub that Jamie wanted to go and Andy and Joe agreed to get a cab there. No ubers about but the landlord had a direct line to the local private hire firm and we we had a lift in no time. We did a few races outside the pub whilst we waited for the cab which set up the final shot, it was Jamie’s.

Cracking place and shame we didn’t have longer to really enjoy the evening as droves of people were turning up as we left.

The final venue of the night was over in Garlinge at The Rodney. The main driver of going here was its name. We probably should have stayed in the Lord Byron as it wasn’t quite as buzzing but you don’t know til you try do you. Whilst being tagged as a pub/restaurant on instagram it actually wasn’t serving food but they let us get pizzas from the place across the road.

Slight worry when there were no ubers and the ladies behind that bar said no cabs for an hour as we only had 30mins until the last train. Whilst having no solution we could think of, the landlady solved our conundrum by suggesting we simply walk. The station was only 20 minutes away but as we were 8 pubs in we had very little understanding of where we were or what was happening.

We made the train home and Jamie even managed to save a lost dog who was too scared to get the escalator at Stratford, after his owner had already gotten on. After reuniting the dog (blonde labrador) with its owner, an older woman who witnessed it all said “you’re a hero”.

What a day.