fishydreams

They say that an early morning swim in the sea is a good cure for a hangover and so at 08.00 yesterday we dragged ourselves to the stony beach by the harbour at Hastings and launched ourselves into the waters of the English Channel to test this particular theory.

Our visit to Hastings was very short – just a night in one of the rooms above the Jenny Lind pub in the heart of the old town. It might seem reasonable to assume that the Jenny Lind pub was the source of any hangovers that the Channel might be expected to cure, but there were a few other pubs involved. One of these was the Cinque Ports Arms on the All Saints street, and just a little further down the road, the Stag Inn which is the oldest pub in continuous use in the town, having first dispensed hangovers way back in the Elizabethan era, reputedly in 1547.

It was dark when we found our way inside the Stag Inn. Too dark, I now realise, to have allowed us to see the two mummified cats that were extracted from the chimney in the 1940s during some modification to the building, and that are now on display in the front bar. These unfortunate cats, along with a ghost of a murdered Dutch sea captain and another of a mysterious young girl, are somehow woven into the history of this ancient drinking place.

A group of folk musicians were hard at it in the corner when we entered and we were fortunate enough to secure a table on the opposite side. It had not been our intention to stay for more than a couple of pints but those plans were scuppered by the folk singers and their accompanying musicians. We joined in with the singing as far as we were able and would have sung some more but the songs we had in mind, and that we requested from the folk people, were either too obscure or too Irish. I would have been happy enough to have a crack at Carrickfergus but only one guitarist seemed to know the tune and having an imperfect recall of the lyrics and, not then having imbibed sufficiently to overcome my timidity, I turned down the offer of my services as a guest soloist.

Exploring the pubs of Hastings was not the purpose of our visit, if our visit can be thought to have had any purpose at all. As it happens, it turned out to be a fascinating aspect of the experience. There are a number of old pubs here and even though we visited a few, there clearly remains work to be done in some future visit.

Even the least able students of English history will have one year etched in their brains: the Battle of Hastings in 1066. At a push, schoolchildren may be able to roll off names a few of Henry VIII´s six wives and recall what happened to them, but you can put your money on them being able to remember that 1066 was the year of the Norman conquest. When those Normans showed up out of the blue, most of them landed at Pevensey Bay, about 10 miles west of Hastings. I suspect that had they known back then how much their descendants would now have to fork out for a family visit to Hastings castle and the Smuggler Tunnels they might have clambered back on board their ships and headed home to France.

Centuries after those Norman ships rolled up on south coast, smuggling seems to have been the town´s main industry. This must have been thirsty work because, by all accounts, smugglers made up much clientele of the Stag Inn long before we rocked up and settled at that cosy corner table trying to see if, after a few pints of ale, we could piece together to lyrics of Carrickfergus.

Hastings was a new place to visit for all of us and we were more than impressed. Lodging above a pub was a particular treat and the Jenny Lind was just lovely. There are 15 pubs in the old town and we made a pretty decent effort of getting to know some of them.

Clearly, a return visit is needed!