Kentish Express Ashford & District - What's On
‘The pub was about as lively as the lifeless beer’
Secret Drinker enters the twilight zone as he heads to the coast in search of a proper seaside ppub
Even in the fading Deal twilight there’s no missing the Walmer Castle on South Street – it’s about as bright red as you can get and, even if you’re colour blind in the extreme, the music being pumped into the side garden will knock your socks off.
I walked through the front door and turned left, finding myself in a small, hugely over-decorated room which, apart from a mass of furniture and furnishings, was completely empty. Barman Ray was with me in a flash, seemingly happy to have something to do, and I ordered the only beer he had on tap. But, feeling lonely and overpowered by frippery, I retraced my steps into the bigger bar on the right hand side of the pub where, in the dim lighting, I could just about identify three other human beings camouflaged aamong the decorations.
The music being belted out in the garden was also being played in here, not at quite such a high volume, but the choice of tunes wwas excellent.
Bbut, the beer, a pint of Young’s London Original, was as bland as itt’s possible to be. The first half pint was tasteless, pointless and unsatisfying, the second half was the same but a fraction warmer. Bang A Gong, the version by U2 with Elton John, had given way to The Jam’s A Town Called Malice, followed by Blondie, Hanging on the Telephone. If they hadn’t managed to capture my era of music so perfectly I might not have hung around myself. They must have had some red paint left over from the front as the ceiling is the same colour – but in here, combined with blue lights behind the bar and a mass of semi-powered trendy lightbulbs, makes the bar incredibly dark and, with so few folk in, it felt a bit dreary.
Pub boss Brendan was sitting with a mate at the table in the window when I came in but they soon scurried off, back into the light and the customer count, apart from me, dropped to one. There were three TV screens up over the bar, but it was a sportfree Sunday evening so they were in darkness too.
Now the boss had departed, the barman began plotting his own escape and started by getting on the phone to order two takeaway pancake rolls. Fortunately for him the next person into the pub was its manager, or as he described himself ‘the manager in name only’.
After a short story about a lady who came into the bar at 4pm and, by the time she left at 6pm, was incapable of standing up, Ray had persuaded the ‘would-be manager’, who reminded me a little of actor Mackenzie Crook, to take over the end of his shift. Pulp’s Common People was next on the playlist so I decided to stay for one more and tried a 61 Deep – a pale ale from Marston’s Brewery. Oh dear, not much depth to it at all, perhaps a slight improvement on the Young’s, but not much.
No sooner had Ray shot out the door there was a sudden influx of late customers, about a dozen young folk, several carrying instruments on their shoulders. They’d been playing a gig at the Smugglers Record Shop and popped in for last orders – they were like a breath of fresh air and certainly livened the place up, though the age gap was confirmed when they asked who was singing the next song and I was able to inform them it was Gary Numan. I began feeling it was time to leave myself and paid a pre-departure visit to the gents.
These, despite being painted a fairly dark green, were lighter than elsewhere in the pub, giving you the opportunity to a) see what you’re doing and b) appreciate the artwork. They were fresh, clean and very well kept.
For the vast majority of my visit the pub was about as lively as the lifeless beer and most folk seemed desperate to leave the Walmer Castle as fast as possible. Fortunately the last 10 minutes or so left me with hope this incredibly dark, bizarrely decorated boozer is able to lift itself from the gloom occasionally and produce the type of atmosphere which might just match its playlist.