This is the church of St. Peter and St. Paul in Kent in the village of Aylesford.

I can’t believe that I missed the stone arch bridge when I took that photo; it would be immediately out of frame to the right.

In the foreground is the unlovely looking River Medway, getting close to the end of its tidal limit just a mile and a half upstream at Allington Lock, where it becomes essentially a canal as it passes through the Kent county town of Maidstone on its way through hop-growing country and onto its source in West Sussex.

Between the church and the river are the backs of the half-timbered houses on the western part of the old village high street, with the rear deck of The Chequers pub on the left edge of the photo.

Aylesford is a place with a lot of history behind it.

According to the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, (which is not the name of the local newspaper) it was the site of the Battle of Æȝelesford in 455, in which the Anglo-Saxon leaders Hengist and Horsa took on and beat Vortigern, King of the Britons (or possibly his son); as a result, Aylesford is often referred to as the “birthplace of the English nation”.

To the northeast of the village, on the south-facing slope of Blue Bell Hill, you can find the White Horse Stone, which folk-law associates with the battle, specifically Horsa who fell at the site and whose shield symbol, the White Horse, is still the emblem of the county of Kent.

However, the stone is so much older, being one of several sarsen megaliths that dot the area on both sides of the river; the most recognized being Kits Coty House, the remains of a chambered long barrow from around 4000 BCE.

The village also houses the Carmelite Friars of Aylesford in their ancestral home that they returned to in the mid-20^th century after 400 years of exile following the dissolution of the monasteries under Henry VIII.

But enough of that, what about The Chequers?

What about the beer?

What has all of this have to do with the Cask Whisperer?

Well, you know how sometimes, especially at weekends, you just get the urge to get out of town and head off to the beach, or the hills, or upcountry, or just for a day by the riverside.

You go for the change of pace and change of scenery, but you also go for the change of pub, for a beer (or two or more) in someplace different than your regular local or locals.

It needs to be far enough away so that you can’t just walk there and walk home again, but because of that beer (or two or more), you don’t want to be driving either.

This is how I discovered my love of train travel.

From my old home in Strood to the bridge at Aylesford it is about nine miles on foot, which I had walked on many an occasion when I was younger just for the exercise (three hours out and three hours back), but by train from Strood Station to Aylesford Station via the Medway Valley Line it was under 20 minutes, plus a more reasonable 15-20 minute walk at both ends.

I would go frequently (almost every other weekend) with my two best mates, but we would not be going for any of that history stuff, we would not be heading to The Chequers either, although we usually ended up there as well.

Our primary destination was the smallest pub in Kent, The Little Gem, a magical little freehouse at the eastern end of the old village high street.

Too small to have a real bar, the beers were served on gravity pours through a hatch in the side wall next to the bathroom entrance, which is at the back of the ground floor space, barely six paces from the front door.

There were a couple of tables inside and another one in the upstairs “snug”, reachable via a tight circular staircase opposite the hatch (duck or grouse), but we usually just stood around outside or sat on a bench across the road.

If we got the munchies, there were a couple of quaint tea shops on the high street, or if we were feeling particularly athletic we would hike up the footpath to Blue Bell Hill, past Kits Coty to the Lower Bell pub for whitebait and chips.

But most times we would just stagger up to the Chequers for a pint of Fremlins, a game of darts, and a Bread and Drip with black pepper and raw onions; good for the heart and good for the breath.

The perfect day out.

But what if you didn’t live in Strood?

What if you were stuck here in NYC instead, going crazy over the lack of choice, just doing the same old thing every weekend?

There is no Medway Valley Line here, but MTA has several options (see below), if you get the urge to get out of town and head off to the beach, or the hills, or upcountry, or just for a day by the riverside.

You never know, you may even find a cask ale there, or there, or there, or there.