Messing In Boats

"Believe me, my young friend, there is nothing—absolutely nothing—half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats"

Or, in this particular instance, homemade rafts propelled by grit, determination and a fair amount of hope and blind luck down the River Stour one gloriously sunny Saturday morning that looked as though it had been lifted straight out of The Wind In The Willows.

Ages ago, when it was still getting dark at 6pm, I blogged about a gorgeous pub in Fordwitch called The George and Dragon?  At that time do you remember me telling you about the plethora of events that were coming up that we wanted to go to?  One of them was the Raft Race.

This annual charity event takes place on the beautiful River Stour just outside the pub.  Ellie reminded me that the event was on when we were out one Friday, and I made arrangements to meet her and John at the pub for some lunch and to enjoy the race.

I arrived slightly early, worried that there wouldn't be anywhere to park (not a concern in the end), grabbed a drink and settled down in the sun soaked beer garden.  Kids were running everywhere, bobbing for apples in the buckets near the boules and playing catch with tennis balls and velcro covered paddles (does anyone else remember those from their childhood?)  The marquee was being set up, the BBQ had been turned on and people were pulling on wet suits and swimming trunks.  The party atmosphere was starting to take hold!

We relaxed in the blazing hot sunshine, chatting about John and Ellie's new house, work and rehearsals for the latest Players production that Ellie is in.

There was no formal sign that we could see, but all at once people gathered up their drinks, fetched children's heads out of buckets of water, hitched up long summer skirts and crossed the road to pick a spot on the river to watch the race from.

The river was crystal clear all the way to the bottom and simply beautiful in the late morning sunshine with huge dappled trout flashing between the reeds, sunlight sending sparks of glitter up from their scales.  As we stood waiting, the raft parade came up behind us in less than formal procession and absolutely no solemnity to speak of.  First up was the Pirate Ship

A sturdy looking contraption topped by a proud mast and the Jolly Roger, manned by a crew of salty blaggards in full costume.  There was even a wooden plank to either side (useful for carrying).  These guys looked professional, as though they meant business and they had done this before!

Next there was the Dream Boat.  I must admit, I raised my eyebrows at this one! It was basically a stripped down bed frame with some ballast duct-taped underneath.  I wasn't convinced on the aerodynamics and its speed potential, let alone its ability to actually float!  It also didn't look all that comfortable to sit on and would have been quite heavy to manoevour I would imagine.  Those PJ's were a nice touch though! 

The final entry was basically a floating square.  I didn't think it looked sturdy enough to support anyone's weight, let alone actually float down the river!   Just goes to show you should never judge a book by its cover, or in this case a raft by its apparent lack of lifesaving ability.

Three boats, three of us, we all selected our flagship and settled down on the bank to cheer them on.  Each raft was crewed by a mixture of adults and children, and the kids looked like they were having an absolute whale of a time.  This is such a brilliant day out for kids - they get to have fun making the rafts, playing in the river and race with other rafts as well.  I was a bit surprised that more rafts weren't involved, although apparently in previous years they have been.

Now I have no idea what the rules are, but I'm guessing you need at least 4 people on a boat, it must float, must be made by hand and can't be motorised, and of course you have to pay the entrance fee which goes to charity.  Beyond that, I really think that the sky and your own imagination is the limit!

All three boats got settled into the river a bit further up, everyone took their positions and they were away, speeding gracefully down the river like a flock of giant swans.

Well.

Kind of.

It was more like a doggy paddle by a golden retriever with a stick in its mouth that is bigger than its body.

The Pirate Ship got stuck and went in circles for a bit before eventually straightening up and joining the race again whilst the Dream Boat had a complete and utter disaster when its crew managed to break an oar and punted itself into the river bank.  The floating sheet was steaming ahead though!

I'm telling you, it was tense.  It was exciting.  It was frantic.  Bets were going back and forth, thousands of spectators were screaming themselves hoarse.   Just look at those crowds, can't you feel the pressure, the stress of it all?  You could have cut the air with a plastic BBQ knife

Not one ship capsized, a fact I was heartily disappointed by.  I mean, what fun is a raft race where at least one of the rafts doesn't end up like duck with its bottom in the air?

Hot on the sails of the Giant Rice Krispie Square (as it shall forever now be known) came the Pirate Ship.

They didn't look like they were sitting quite as high, or as comfortably in the water as the Giant Rice Krispy Squre was!  In fact, the guys at the back looked decidedly soggy.  A lot of style, maybe not quite so much substance?   The kids were squealing with laughter and there were big grins on the faces of the men as well, and that is what the Raft Race is all about. 

Finally, bringing up the rear, was the Dream Boat.  They made the best of a bad situation with a broken oar, but punting is clearly not the fastest way to get down a river.  Especially when you are trying to punt in between the slats of a bed.

They made it though, eventually, and crossed the finish line under the bridge to riotous applause (after getting stuck in the bank again just before the bridge and hitting one of the small children over the head with the punting stick by accident as they tried to get free.  The next time I saw him, said small child had a bag of ice on his forehead, poor mite!)
After all the teams had made it safely across the finish line and all the participants had stripped off their life jackets and dried off in the toilets, dripping water all over the stone slabs of the ancient pub floor, we made our way into the garden for some lunch and to listen to the singer. 

Against a backdrop of chilled out summer classics, virgin Bloody Mary's, the smell of the BBQ and steak sandwiches, our conversation revolved around the Raft Race, and what our entry will look like.

Oh yes, this wasn't just a random excursion.  This was an advance scouting party, an information gathering expedition.  This time next year, The Canterbury Players will be partaking in the Fordwitch Charity Raft Race.  Things will get very, very soggy!



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The George and the Dragon

The George and the Dragon is a large old pub in the centre of the smallest town in Britain.

I'm not sure how Fordwich is still classified as a town when in reality it is smaller than a lot of the villages around us, but apparently it is due to the fact that it still has a town council.  Either way, it has long been on my list of dream destinations to live in because it is just so pretty!

It is just up the road from Canterbury, a 5 minute drive if the traffic in Sturry is behaving itself and you don't catch the train crossing at the wrong moment, and right on the banks of the River Stour. It is filled with windy narrow streets and ancient stone cottages covered in purple flowering wisteria all lining the green banks of the river.  There is also a church, a town hall, and another pub.  Even a town this small has to have at least two pubs to its name, otherwise people gossiping about each other will be forced to share bar space.

Fordwich used to be a major port destination for Canterbury when it (and Canterbury) were still cut off from Thanet by the Wantsum channel which has long since silted up, but nowadays the most exciting thing you are likely to find on this stretch of the river is the annual Summer Duck Race.  Which by the way I have already booked into my diary and plan on entering.

The George and the Dragon is a popular destination for us.  We frequently drive out here, especially in the summer to soak up the sun in the garden or play board games by the fire in the winter.  I once got so drunk one Halloween after a meal with friends that I inadvertently cheated at Cluedo and ruined the game for everyone.  It was the first time I had ever played and I'm not convinced that I really understood the rules, at least I certainly didn't after 3 bottles of red wine.  We also got to name a Halloween cocktail that night; it's one of the last things I clearly remember.

The George has been in Fordwich since around the 1400's and as with any building that old, is apparently haunted.   'The Lady with the Green Hat' is thought to wander the pub and grounds and the story goes that the telephone downstairs, although having been disconnected many years ago, still rings at times.  To be honest I have never seen a ghost here, although I normally distracted by other things, such as my food.  And my wine glass.  And the dessert menu.

The menu at the George is extensive, changes seasonally and is normally good.  I say normally as the day that I visited with friends to celebrate Ellie's birthday, we had a less than steller meal and the service was quite slow but this is an anomaly for this place.  I've had dinner here 3 or 4 times and lunch at least 10 times and the food is normally much better, although it can be pricey.  Starters average around the £6, mains around £14 and bottles of wine around £20.

Previously I have eaten the goats cheese tart, the burger, the steak sandwich, the ribs and the fish and chips (not all in one sitting I hasten to add) and they have all been wonderful.  I have had business lunches here and staff development days and they have always been incredibly accommodating.   I had the King Prawn Indonesian Curry this time round and found it to be tasty, but too salty and the same went for my olives which hadn't been rinsed of their liquor and so were almost inedible towards the bottom of the ramiken they were served in.  Steve's burger was unfortunately chargrilled, and not in a good way and his cheesy garlic bread was topped with cheddar instead of mozzarella.  Our friends said that their fish pie, the gnocchi and the duck breast were both very good and the steak and the charcuterie board both looked magnificent as well so it is possible that Steve and I just ordered badly this time!

In the past the George has also done a Tuesday pudding club (great for people like me with an incredibly sweet tooth) but I can't find any information as to whether or not this is still going on.

I love coming here for the atmosphere though.  It is a higgledy-piggledy building filled with truly ancient beams (some of which are so pitted from long dead wood worm that you wonder how on earth they are still holding together), wooden floorboards and huge open fireplaces with worn leather chesterfield arm chairs in front.

Everything about this place is warm and comforting and it is always filled with a relaxed, chattering crowd from Fordwich and the surrounding areas.  The George is divided into three clear zones, the bar, the restaurant and the garden.  It doesn't really matter where you sit though as you can order the same food and drink in any area.

The River Stour is famous for its trout fishing, boasting a breed of salmon trout that is local to Fordwich and you can see signs of the river's influence all over the George (although surprisingly, not on the menu!)

I mentioned that garden, which is one of the main draws of the George in the summer months and can become completely packed with the Sunday luncher crowd, aided by the presence of a boules court.  You may wish to consider booking on a Saturday or Sunday lunchtime in the heart of summer!

When I was little, my parents used to make an hour and a half drive out to the countryside (no idea where) just so we could go for Sunday lunch at a particular pub.  It was the quintessential English pub, utterly charming, relaxed and friendly.  The George has that same feeling for me, it feels like a true country establishment at the center of a community which is holding onto its traditions.  Even the name is about as traditional as you can get!  I think that this is why it feels more like a village than a town - you can imagine it still having a May Day Festival, complete with Maypole!

I love this pub, which is why I was so disappointed with our last visit.  You just hope that you got them on an off day and that they were short-staffed in the kitchen or some such excuse.  I would hate to see this pub lose its focus.

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