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From the
https://www.kentonline.co.uk By Secret Drinker, 27 January 2020.
Secret Drinker at the Fox & Hounds pub, Lowfield Street, Dartford.
Weaving through the smokers who were out front en masse and ignoring the
jibes specially saved up for any non-local daring to enter, I stepped
gingerly into the Fox & Hounds in Dartford.
I felt I’d taken a step back in time – to the days when you smelt the
pub carpet before you noticed the pattern and heard the punters cursing
before you got through the door.
Feeling overdressed in jeans and trainers, I instantly regretted not
pulling on a pair of tracky bottoms and a paint-spattered T-shirt.
Now, don’t get me wrong, nothing in this report should be taken as a
negative – this is a pub with an important historic role, it will remind
you of everything a pub was and needed to be in the 1970 or 1980s.
Okay, no trendy grey or olive green paint, no food, no delicacy and
certainly no carefully positioned frippery (fake books, dodgy prints of
neighbouring buildings, piles of logs that will never be burned) but
real, down-to-earth earthy folks who care deeply about their local and
the fact that their pub is still thriving against all odds.
A sign on one door read ‘private party’ but a gravelly voiced landlady
said it should be ignored and was only a ruse to keep certain folks out
and the pub dogs, a pair of chow chows, contained. In the same breath
Tracey told me the white was perfectly safe but I should beware the
black one. I played safe and gave both Ruby and Roxy a wide berth.
The pub has parking, a pool table and shows Sky Sports.
The front bar had been cleared out, apart from the dog bowls, chews and
a massive lead to make space for a singer but sadly we missed her
performance.
There was a vacuum cleaner on charge in this empty front bar and two
more stood in the back bar, strange given the carpet didn’t look as if
it had seen a hoover for months!
We tried pints of Old Peculier, at 5.6%, but the beer lived up to its
name and wasn’t drinkable. Barmaid Rach said she had feared it might not
be ‘quite right’ as earlier pints had also been questioned.
We shifted to alternative drinks – the big favourite here was Stella in
bottles, on offer for £1.75 – there were boxes of the stuff stacked up
in reserve.
But the back bar, now without a party, was filling up so, drinks in
hand, we headed into the even grubbier back bar and the cacophony of
general noise and specific blaspheming.
We ignored the dartboards and jukebox (free Thursday and Sunday from 2pm
to 6pm) but were encouraged to challenge the locals at pool.
This corner of the pub was corralled and controlled by keen pool player
and fiercely-loyal local Ron.
Before our showdown on the baize I visited the gents, which was
generally fine but had a large hole on the right hand side of urinal
three– maybe someone tried tunnelling out? Either way, you could hear
everything from the bar in here.
Back in the bar another colourful local, Care Bear, and his equally
colourful girlfriend had joined us and Ron kissed him through his beard.
The toilets need a bit of repair work.
Other fascinating characters in this throwback bar were a monster of a
guy visiting from Turks and Caicos, an incredibly tired and emotional
Kiki and her other half who turned down the chance to walk her home for
another free pint.
Ninety five per cent of punters smoke, most out behind the pub in the
evening, and when we waved goodbye the waft was unmistakable.
Not a pub for the faint-hearted, but a fascinating look back across four
decades with some ferociously honest, ferociously drunk, decent folk.
DECOR ★★
DRINK ★★
PRICE ★★★★
ATMOSPHERE ★★★★★
STAFF ★★★★
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