In the Kent village of Chiddingstone there is a curious lump of sandstone, formed about 135 million years ago when this part of the world was a swampy mess, christened the Chiding Stone, because (so they say) nagging wives and other wrong-doers were brought here and rebuked – or chided – by the massed villagers. Thankfully Twitbook and Facegram were not invented so we have no photographic evidence. After a hard day’s chauvinistic peacocking the ‘men’ of the village would crawl back to the dark gloom of a local hostelry to whet their whistle and quench their thirst on butter beer and gin whilst congratulating each other on a job well done. Both locations were nick named ‘The Rock’.

The Rock, in both its forms, still stand proudly in the shadows of an otherwise out of date history. There are less requirements for a public chiding and the bar now are as popular with the women that run the country as much as the men. ‘The Rock Inn’ was named and noted as ‘permitting drunkenness’ in 1874 and almost lost its license. Today as the most recent in a long line of infamous landlords, I Laurence Bowes, currently support the business by only using the best of British Ingredients in a simple format with great local beer and an all-British line-up on the bar. I am a champion of all things local and understand that a community pub is just that, all about the community. As a seasoned pub operator, I am only too aware of the speed things happen in the current market and I only hope that for the short time in the pubs history that I am its custodian I can do it justice as one of Kent’s best maintained and treasured country pubs for locals and tourists alike.

HISTORY OF THE ROCK

INSPIRATION AND PARTLY PLAGIARISED FROM ‘THE ACORN OF POOKDEN’ BY
ROBERT GOLDS

The early years

It’s 1517 and Pookden Farm is as popular as ever. William Woodgate is in charge and
decides that the abundance of weary travellers through these parts are better served in their own building away from the main house. The first oak beam was laid out in
preparation for the build of what would eventually become known as The Rock Inn. It took nearly three years to build and was finally completed in 1520, the year we consider its inauguration. It wasn’t until 1571 that it was officially christened an alehouse but I’m sure it saw much business before as it did after this date with the local community loosening their tongues after a hard day on the farm. As the early years of her existence passed it was converted a number of times from an alehouse to a dwelling and even held the title as the ‘main farmhouse’ while the great hall next door was used for social gatherings and housing the various workers. It was in 1667 that Joseph Cox gained the lease to the estate and moved back into the homestead turning The Rock into a very popular butchery. With farming being the main economy in the area it was obviously very well received, having an enviable position on the King’s highway it was obviously popular.

A real alehouse

It wasn’t until 1816 that the brewer John Cox had taken control of the farm, now known as ‘Little Truggers’, and made our building dedicated to the sale of beer. Many farms and
homesteads produced their own ales but John had honed his skills in Bermondsey and was dedicated to the art with aspiration of delivering the best ale in the area. It wasn’t however until 1830 that the Beerhouse Act enabled William Snashnall to officially license the building as a brewery and beerhouse. The Act was in response to the reversal of the Gin Act of 1751 which basically encouraged people to drink gin as opposed to beer as it was cleaner. Problem is everyone got too drunk on gin, ale was considered slightly more sociable. The famous prints issued by William Hogarth of Gin Lane and Beer Street are a historically perfect depiction of how the two alcoholic beverages impacted people’s behaviour.

By 1841 William Snashnall had dedicated much of his time to the lucrative pastime of brewing and selling beer. Now famous for wobbly wooden tables and its brick floor of which came under the watchful eye of Diddy Snashnall, a fairly rotund buoyant lady who had very little patience for those thinking of stepping out of line. It is at this point the pub, although still not officially licensed, was named the ‘Labour in Vain’. Named so for the hard work the farmers would endure for very little return. Not only was the little drinking hole popular with the farm hands of the area but increasing the out of work, smugglers and poachers. Notorious in area as a safe place to drink, talk and be merry without having to look over your shoulder. It was one unusually mild winter evening that three young men started their evening rather innocently and quickly spiralled into something more dramatic. Still to this day does The Rock Inn wield this power as we often say, ‘what could possibly go wrong’.

This was the year that John Coulstock, William Ashdown and Will Welfare sat down for a ‘meeting’ and hatched a plan that would see them eat like kings rather than the poultry rewards of poaching. As their confidence grew after each flagon of ale they may well have overdone it slightly and were quickly put back into line by Diddy, and shown the road. This only served to strengthen their resolve. As a form of retribution for the early end to the night the three young lads decided to upgrade their bounty to chickens, duck or geese from behind the pub in its own coop. The geese weren’t having any of it so the lads ended up with two fresh chickens and escaped into the night. Caught by anti poachers, paraded in front of their parents and finally arrested they were sentenced to twelve months’ hard labour. Will Welfare sadly succumbed to this hard labour, a cruel price to pay for stealing two chickens. A labour in vain indeed.

Despite the harsh punishment for the theft of the two chickens the Labour in Vain
remained popular with people whose unfavourable career choices included a number of mischievous pastimes including poaching and the smuggling of liquor and tobacco. Risky but worthwhile use of time. Only two years after John and William returned to the Hoath from Maidstone another night of mischief was to unfold. Despite a retired constable enjoying a beer by the fire William Barnes came bursting through the door into the smoke filled bar on 7th October 1845 carrying several large joints of meat. The no nonsense landlady Diddy Snashnall was quick to quiz him but his excuses sounded plausible at best. She permitted him to store the meat in her cold room while he auctioned it off to the patrons of the house for 3d a pound no less. News travelled that there was good quality meat for sale at half the market price. It travelled as far as The Castle Inn to George Leigh, the landlord, who had inadvertently left the keys to his storeroom in the lock and had four hindquarters of mutton removed. The same very mutton that was being stored at the Labour in Vain. When he bound through the door to lay blame at the landlady of the Labour in Vain it was the off duty constable James Longley, having witnessed everything, begrudgingly put down his ale to get his handcuffs out and around the wrists of William Barnes. For this a mere three months’ hard labour, in comparison to the two chickens a fairly lenient sentence. 1853, William Gladstone as the new Chancellor and was visiting a friend in Markbeech. It was on this journey that William asked his driver to stop at the local inn to rest the horses. The unusual sign had caught his eye. A little black boy being washed in a bathtub by a large white woman was depicted under the name of the pub. The new budget not being far from his mind this moment is said to have inspired him to make a decision to remove soap tax, reduce soap smuggling, increase legitimate palm oil trade with Africa, therefore reducing the slave trade. Therefore, it’s nice to think that the then innocent now socially unacceptable swing sign was the catalyst and inspiration to start a process of ending slave trade. All of this just because he stopped at The Rock for a pint.

In 1874 March 8th, the now named Rock Inn, was being run by William Chantler.
Aforementioned in the legends of The Rock section we have gone about this story, it was however an evening that William would rather forget, and learn from. His enthusiasm to do nothing about the escapades of the evening resulted in his licence coming into question. Something no licensee wants to happen. Despite not being charged with the crime of permitting drunkenness, it wasn’t until later that the local magistrate finally enacted some retribution. The chairman of the licensing board refused to renew his licence and the pub was handed over to the stewardship of John and Eliza Pocock and then the Sherwoods in 1913. Emily Sherwood was to run the business until her death in 1957 at the age of ninety one.