The Swan & Dog, Ashford

My visit on a Sunday recently was thankfully more enjoyable than that of the previous reviewer several years ago. The large outside seating area at the front is still there, but on a wet Sunday in January it was unoccupied. There's a car park behind the pub, but it was nowhere near large enough to accommodate all the customers who had driven to the pub on Sunday. Inside it's fairly large with plenty of normal tables and chairs wrapped around the central peninsular bar. The ceiling was festooned with sheaves of dried hops, as well as having an old ladder on the ceiling presumably once used for hop picking as a tribute to one of Kent's traditional industries. There are also some false beams, or batons perhaps, on the ceiling as well as the walls having fake nicotine-coloured paint or wash on them. Personally, I'm not sure these fake additions add anything worthwhile, but I don't suppose many people care about such things. They did have three ales on - Old Dairy Swan & Dog (re-badged Green Top I suspect); Goacher's Ale (both Kent brews); plus Harvey's Best Bitter, with a fourth handpump having a reversed clip. I had to ask the barmaid for the details of the Old Dairy and Goacher's ales, as a family including a young child were committing Pub Annoyance #95 by preventing any access to the pumpclips. All of the tables were laid for diners, in that they all had paper napkins and knives and forks on them, but there was no suggestion that any of them were reserved for diners. I didn't get to look at a menu, but clearly food was big business on Sunday lunchtime, and probably at other times as well. This is an OK pub. I don't think I would recommend going far out of your way to visit it, but it's a decent enough place to stop off for a pint if you're on your way to Ashford.

Official site of The Swan & Dog - swananddog.co.uk

Official site of The Swan & Dog - swananddog.co.uk

I have been passing the pub from time to time. And in that time nothing about the place has changed my opinion of it. It may well be the most wonderful pub in the world. It may well serve the world’s finest food, accompanied by the world’s finest ales in the company of the world’s finest people. But I will never know. Take yesterday’s visit for example. Despite freezing temperatures and snow on the ground, at 1.30pm the beer garden had a dozen assorted thugs and thug-ettes standing around in it. They were all obviously drunk on lager and were shouting abuse at passers-by. In the past they’ve been content to be screeching at each other. Now they’ve turned on the general public. So there I was, faced with two pubs within ten yards of each other. One has a garden filled with yobs screaming abuse at the world, one does not. I suppose this pub fills a useful niche for those who like to shout whilst necking lager by the gallon.