Royal Tunbridge Wells, Mount Edgcumbe

Tuesday February 18th 2014

The fearless four go urban again

Venue: Royal Tunbridge Wells

 Walkers: Farty, Mrs P, TB, Wind

Distance: 5 miles (I don't BELIEVE it!)

Time taken: 3 hrs ish

Continuing the urban walking theme while the countryside slowly (very) drains, we met up in Morrisons car park. I know, Morrisons, in Tunbridge Wells, what is the world coming to!  Farty and TB had driven down from the big smoke, having abandoned plans to let the train take the strain due to the need to catch an unseemly early train because of landslides, train cancellations, and other general mayhem.  A quick catch up on TB's "procedure" http://rahras2.blogspot.co.uk/), and all is healing nicely, though dressings are still attached and he has to use cubicles in public toilets so as not to alarm fellow piddlers.  There have been few problems other than when the cats need to knead his nether regions, and of course no contact sports are allowed, or indeed any other contact.  No change there then, TB added bitterly.  Apart from that he's just relieved he didn't contract MRSA, and the added bonus is, he said,  that he can now speak yiddish.  Anyway, back to the walk (must I?).  We paid for our car park tickets at one of those machines that "speaks" to you, in Michael Caine, or Frank Bruno fashion, advising you not to leave valuables in your car.  Rather common for Tunbridge Wells we thought.  We set off down the original high street, full of lovely shop frontages, obviously originally butchers, bakers, (candlestick makers? Probably).  Now chic, expensive boutiques.  Moving swiftly on we arrived at King Charles the Martyr church, a lovely chapel-style church originally built in 1676 by entrepreneur and builder Thomas Neal.  It's a grade 1 listed building with a beautifully ornate ceiling crafted by a couple of plasterer mates of Christopher

Wren, John Wetherell and Henry Dogood.  (The boy done good).  A brass plaque on a balcony denoted Queen Victoria's seat, well away from the great unwashed.  Queen Victoria often visited Tunbridge Wells to partake of the waters at Chalybeate Springs.  We had a look, it was just a not very impressive rusty looking puddle.  Apparently it was discovered by a courtier of James 1st on his way to

London from Eridge.  According to Google it seems he was hungover and stopped to have a slurp from the murky water and immediately felt better.  We could have done with some of this stuff when we were flying, instead of using up all the emergency oxygen bottles.  Things really took off from there, and soon people were flocking to the area to take the waters.  15 pints(?) a day could cure all manner of ailments-tedious agues (I get these in Tesco), cirrhosis, scurvy, gonorrhea, and hysteria.  Who wouldn't be hysterical suffering from that lot.  Through the lovely georgian Pantiles, complete with Victorian post box. and on to the Spa Valley Railway, part of the original line to Brighton and Eastbourne until Beeching...we won't go there, always sets us off.  TB's eyes lit up.  Unfortunately it's not up and running until Mother's day, but we had a nose round. The old station is an impressive building, but unfortunately is part of the Smith and Western pub chain which took the edge off it's grandeur.  "Did you know you can get a train form here to Uckfield?" asked Farty.  Mrs P and I looked nervously down at our shuffling feet and had to admit we didn't,  Farty rolled her eyes.  There were several occasions today when we were asked what we knew about local landmarks, and we were ashamed to say not a lot, due to heading straight to M&S and Fenwicks.  Shocking.

We headed up across the common and ended up on a road with very imposing large houses, all turrets and big chimneys.  Time for a drink and an ogle.  TB's new phone suddenly chimed - sounded like the bells of Westminster Abbey.  "Who was that?" asked Farty.  "It was the market research people" he replied,  "they wondered if I'd be interested in doing a survey regarding....."  "missing foreskins?" asked Farty.  "No" TB replied wearily, "heart complaints".  Poor bloke, this really was becoming a sore point.  (Sorry TB, no more!)  We suddenly noticed a patch of blue sky and were so shocked that TB had to take a snap.  A rare sight these days.  Apparently the Daily Mail says we're in for a scorching summer.  We won't hold our breath, but prepare for hosepipe bans.    

We came to a farm chock full of chickens, turkeys, geese, donkeys and a furry goat.  Farty screeched to a halt.  She couldn't resist and Dr Doolittle-style talked turkey to the turkeys.  Apparently they were very well, and relieved Christmas was over.  Onward through Rusthall common and through an extremely posh housing estate with Southfork style houses. 

Bit ostentatious, we thought, wouldn't do us.  All had been going well until, shock, horror, red alert, MUD!!!  Now, I'm not one to complain, as you know, doesn't bother me, but the others made a bit of a fuss.  Fortunately we were soon through it and came upon St. Paul's church, a charming little church with a graveyard full of lovely angel statues.  Feeling suitably serene, we carried on towards the Beacon pub/hotel for a possible lunch stop.  Two meals and a glass of wine for £12, what could possibly go wrong......?  It looked a bit Fawlty Tower ish, but undeterred we went in and ended up on a landing peering down into the bar to get a sense of the ambiance.  We could see a lot of cauliflower heads.  No surprise there with those prices.  A large woman appeared, wearing what looked like a white nursing home smock and looking rather like nurse Ratchet from one flew over the cuckoo's nest.  "Can I help you?" she shrieked from below. We all nervously leapt in the air a la Basil Fawlty being told off by Sybil.  "No no, just looking, in the middle of a walk, can't stop".  We high-tailed it out of there, and moved on to the Mount Edgcumbe pub, which was much more us, good food , ambiance, no cauli heads, but no £12 deals.  Get what you pay for.  Just time for a coffee at the old opera house, now a Wetherspoons - they get everywhere - where we had a truly dire coffee and hot chocolate.  Still, what do you expect for £1.15?  Sue and Chris would have been appalled.  We were causing quite a stir as we were the only customers admiring the architecture and decor, and taking photos. 

Everone else was admiring the prices on the menu, and there were some dodgy looking characters with missing teeth staggering about, (from the local council offices we thought}, so we didn't hang about.  Honestly, if we were

from Tunbridge Wells we'd be disgusted!

Keep calm and carry on, spring is round the corner!  Love Wend xx