‘Everyone off, this train terminates here’ – a problem on the tracks seemed a bit challenging, or at least it did until we tried to get a pub lunch in Gillingham.

I’ve got a theory about boozers by train stations but this was an emergency so after avoiding the pub directly opposite, we approached the next hostelry on the high street, The Britannia.

A woman in a bright orange top walked out and leant against the doorpost before firing up a fag so we stopped to ask if they were serving food.

‘We don’t do food, you could try The Cricketers or you could come in for a drink and bring something in’. I asked if she was sure and she said she should be as she was the manageress.

With trains backed up for hours, we had time on our hands so avoiding the child spinning around in the centre of the floor we made our way to the bar and waited for manageress Maxine to reappear.

Trying hard to avoid the cliché that first impressions matter we ignored the stale smell hanging in the air, the seats repaired with vinyl and old gaffer tape and the mobility scooter parked outside.

The John Smiths pump didn’t look as if it had seen much action in a while and there was little else on offer so we started with two pints of Kronenbourg and took a seat on the gaffered bench.

They didn’t even have snacks so Mrs SD kindly popped out for crisps – ironically, while she was out I spotted the message on the beam over my head read ‘Full menu available’, next to another which offered ‘Daily specials’, whatever they are?

The screens were all displaying the Now 80s playlist and we were treated to a soundtrack featuring Bucks Fizz, The Wham Rap, Bananarama, Culture Club and Dancing in the Street from Bowie and Jagger.

The slightly stilted and soulless atmosphere was only broken by regular Chris calling for another Fosters to be delivered to his table and a disagreement on the neighbouring table about who had spiked whose drinks the previous evening.

The adverts between Boy George and Lionel Ritchie were an appeal for sick donkeys and a promo for cremation – these lightened the mood slightly and, as the crisps had now arrived, I tentatively approached the bar to order a second drink.

A lot of the bottles looked empty so I went for a Moretti and an unsuspecting Mrs SD shifted to her usual large Sav Blanc. The Spanish lager was the same price as the Kronie so that proved a good move, but selecting wine was apparently ‘a disastrous decision’ as it was unspeakably awful.

A guy in full orange hi-vis was next through the door but he made no effort to order a drink and simply made full use of the toilets. To be fair, this wasn’t a bad decision as the toilets were far better maintained than the rest of the pub and they were cleaner, fresher and more inviting.

There is a large outdoor space and, after the toilets, the garden at the back is probably the best thing about the pub.

Flags for all countries competing in the Rugby Six Nations were pinned to the ceiling so I reckon they must have been showing Rugby World Cup games, at least while there was Northern Hemisphere interest anyway.

It took an emergency to get us through the door and that’s probably the best way to describe our brief visit to The Britannia.

The child had finally stopped spinning on the floor to play pool with his mum and Maxine was back from fag break number three but the final discussion at the bar was telling and summed up this place.

One local turned to another and said: “This pub’s okay for a couple of weeks and then s*** for a couple of weeks, then it’s alright for two weeks, before going back to being s*** for another two weeks”. We obviously chose the wrong fortnight!

We headed back to the station but trains still weren’t running so we popped into the pub we’d previously swerved to get to The Britannia.

Wow, what a mistake it was to walk past The Southern Belle (Note to self: Update theory about boozers next to stations).

This place was a world apart, clean, fresh and brilliantly marshalled by barmaid Amanda who clearly takes great pride in everything she does.

A pint of Madri was £4.50, while a very pleasant large white wine was just £3.50 and the furniture was clean enough and comfortable enough to sit on.

The Britannia, 158 High Street, Gillingham ME7 1AJ

Decor: Grimy and stained, it was a strange decision to choose white chairs but at least they weren’t held together by gaffer tape. *

Drink: There’s a very limited choice of drinks available on tap and the Sauvignon Blanc was one of the worst examples Mrs SD has ever been served. Many of the bottles behind the bar appeared to be empty. *

Price: The Moretti, which was fine, cost £5 (the same as a pint of Kronenbourg). The large wine was £5.20. The prices might not seem too bad, but wine in The Southern Belle, a few doors down was just £3.50. **

Staff: When she was in, Maxine was welcoming enough, but locals are always served first and it’s advisable to time your order around the cigarette breaks. **

Catch up on all Secret Drinker's Kent pub reviews here

Click here to follow Secret Drinker on X

Want more Secret Drinker? Sign up here for his monthly newsletter