Trip to the dark side

‘It was one of the gloomiest pubs I’ve ever walked into’: Secret Drinker

The most desperate, depressing and downright degenerate atmosphere I’ve encountered for an awful long time.

Okay, it was chucking it down and everywhere was dark and foreboding, but this experience in Ashford was about as bleak as it’s possible to be.

Having walked across a bizarre town centre traffic system, and somehow survived, I came across a black and white timbered pub, The Swan, but it was locked up tight.

I crossed back over Tufton Street and within a few steps found myself outside The Phoenix.

Whether I walked past and missed it previously because my head was bowed against the driving downpour or because it looks so bland and un-pub like I’m not sure.

Despite the unappealing appearance, the pesky rain forced me into one of the dingiest, darkest pubs I’ve walked into on a Friday afternoon, or pretty much any afternoon if I’m honest.

There was a row going on at the bar about who had spilt John’s pint of Guinness so I wandered around for a minute or two to let the kerfuffle, and the head on John’s fresh pint, settle.

The multitude of screens tell you immediately this is a self-styled sports bar but none were switched on and all the fruit machines were also in darkness.

The whole place seemed devoid of light, humour or life, but at least the argument at the bar had been resolved so I stepped up to order a pint of the only beer available on tap.

A sign stated London Pride

‘Sadly, it still produced the worst pint of Pride I’ve ever had –and I’ve had afew bad ones’

is in need of some sunshine in a town centre bar

was a new offering and available for the bargain price of £2.20 – it began to dawn on me why folk might be persuaded to visit this place which is yet to rise from the ashes.

The barmaid, who apologised for her inexperience but also said she’d couldn’t see much after waking up with a dodgy eye, couldn’t get the pump to work but her co-worker advised fiddling with the handle and this finally proved successful.

Sadly though it still produced the worst pint of Pride I’ve ever had – and I’ve had a few bad ones.

I bravely soldiered on through a few mouthfuls but in the end couldn’t stomach it and returned it to the bar. I suggested they should perhaps try the beer themselves but neither were keen saying it always tasted horrible. To be fair it was swiftly replaced with a gratis pint of Madri and the £1.75 difference in price wasn’t even mentioned.

There are screens everywhere, over the bar, in booths, by the entrance – but they were all switched off and, as there was no decent sport taking place, I would normally applaud this, but the odd bit of flickering light could only have lifted the atmosphere.

I visited the gents, which are up a long flight of stairs at the back of the pub, but back in the bar realised I’d been a mug for walking so far as everyone else just

uses the disabled toilet.

Back downstairs the bar brightened a little at about 4pm due to a delivery of stock via the side door, brought in from a Fiat by an orange-suited fellow who carried everything in before grabbing a pint at the bar.

There is a stack of CCTV everywhere, even in the gents, and I spotted a plug-in air freshener in one booth but it was never going to rise to the challenge here.

I’m not sure who was choosing the music, but Wild Beasts by Dreamliner and Paperweight by Feeder did little to lighten the mood and at this point the tired and

emotional folk on the table in front of me reignited the argument about who had spilled the Guinness.

According to one of the party, Dean in the grey tracksuit was going to remain in the doghouse for some considerable time.

I’d certainly seen and heard enough in The Phoenix and as I headed back into the Ashford rain I wondered how long it would take to find a decent pub in the town centre. Would it have been a different story if The Swan had been open or The Taproom, which I also passed, not been in a state of stasis? I may never know.

When a full scale delivery arrived it brightened up the pub – first, light came in when the side door was opened and, second, it was brought in by a guy dressed headto-toe in bright orange hi-vis. The assorted provisions, were left stacked against the bar.

On my way back, once the rain had relented a little, I spotted The Taproom and wondered if there were any plans to reopen it? I should have thought to checkKentonline where there’s a story saying it will be back in business next month

Maybe it was the driving rain but I first walked right passed The Phoenix, on the opposite side of Tufton Street, without even noticing it was a pub.

The front of the pub was also a bit brighter and just before I left I realised this solitary TV screen was on, with wrestling showing to a captive audience

Originally I’d spotted The Swan in all its black and white glory, but when I reached the door it was shut up tight