“Are you crazy? Another trip?”
“Yes, Dolores. I need the XP points.”
“What?”
“With KLM. I need three more XP points to keep my gold status.”
“You’re travelling just for that?”
“And to get some research in. I’m going to an archive.”
I wouldn’t want to miss the chance to photograph some more brewing records. I can never have too many of those. In particular. Records from the period 1880 to 1914. For the book I’m currently writing.
It’s not going to be a long trip. I won’t be in the UK for much over 24 hours. And six of those will be in the archive.
With my flight not until 4 PM, it’s a fairly relaxed start. Which is how I prefer it. There’s no-one to wave me off when I leave. Dolores and Alexei are at work. Andrew is still in bed.
There’s a lot of car traffic at Schiphol. Which has me worrying a bit. Needlessly. It’s pretty quiet at both security and passport control. No duty-free today. So it’s straight to the lounge.
Where it’s whisky time again. I’m loath to break with tradition. Brace of whiskies it is.
The last few times I’ve been in the KLM non-Schengen lounge, the warm food hasn’t been bad. Much better than the slop on their planes. Today the trend continues with zuurvlees. A tasty stew.
I shouldn’t have to far to walk. E is one of the closest piers to the lounge. And the display says that it’s a 3-minute walk to the gate. Wary of what happened last time, I head for the gate 40 minutes before the departure time.
Checking the gate hasn’t changed on my way to E pier, the display now says it’s a 12-minute walk. Best not doddle.
I really like the way that the one gate where you’re taken by bus to your plane, is right at the end of the pier. You walk all the way there, just to get on a bus. Perfect.
The flight is full, but thankfully short. With no checked luggage, I’m free as soon as I get through immigration. Which is just a short 10 km walk down a dingy corridor away. A really dismal welcome to the country.
St. Pancras is a long way by tube. About an hour. Always fun with luggage. As the carriage gets fuller and fuller the closer you get to central London. Luckily, I’ve only a small rucksack today.
I realise that I haven’t told you where I’m headed. Maidstone. And the Kent archives. I spent some time looking for regional archives. Preferably, where there were records from multiple breweries. And that I could get to relatively easily.
Kent Archives in Maidstone, turns out to have long sets from both Fremlin and George Beer & Rigden. Plus a couple of other things.
Because getting there from London by train isn’t difficult, Maidstone seems an easy destination to reach. It takes about 2.5 hours from Heathrow to Maidstone. On a tube and then two overground trains.
The first train, a fast Javelin, is packed when we leave St. Pancras. The second, a clanky suburban train from Strood, is much quieter.
I’ve come to Maidstone West station because it’s closer to my hotel than Maidstone East. Sadly, it’s uphill. And I really can’t be doing with hills. Especially with luggage, however light that might be.
My original plan was to hit Spoons and Tesco. But I’m feeling a bit knacked. Just Tesco, then. By Uber. What could be simpler?
Lots, it turns out. Uber keeps giving me stupid pickup points. Then can’t find me a driver. Eventually, one does roll up.
Loaded up with crisps, sandwiches and hotel whisky, it’s time to try my luck with Uber again. A 25-minute wait. What a fucking joke. I could walk it quicker than that. So I do. Remembering that I saw a couple of pubs on the way.
The first, the Royal Albion looks deserted. When I get to the door, I understand why. It’s closed. Despite all the lights being on inside.
Drakes, the other pub on the way, is open. And has Harveys Best. Unfortunately, there’s also a jam session. Which I fear is going to damage my hearing. The only way to get away from it, is to leave. After just one pint.
Up the hill to my hotel. Walking along the busy main roads. Fuck there’s a lot of cars here. They make walking such fun.
The hotel doesn’t have ITV +1. I only catch the last 10 minutes of Latvia against England. Damn.
Still, there is the hotel whisky to put me to sleep.
Drakes
9 Fairmeadow,
Maidstone ME14 1JP.
https://drakescorkandcaskmaidstone.co.uk/