STORY
We all know Kent is a proactive place- refusing to let history gather dust, instead we refit, repurpose and revive, often with a respectful nod to where a place has been and a sharper eye on where it could go. Why? Because legacy is better when it’ s still in use.
This feature is a celebration of that spirit. Of the people who see potential hiding in bricks and timber, and of the surprise and delight that comes from stepping into a place that feels brand new, but deeply rooted in Kent’ s story. This is Kent … Re-invented.
The Old Wine Warehouse, Ramsgate
Seaside port town Ramsgate has always known how to handle a cargo and in the late 19th century, this imposing brick warehouse was a crucial stop on the journey from merchant to market. Built for Page & Sons, a family-run wine business dating back to Georgian times, the warehouse once stored barrels of port, sherry and Guinness, waiting to be tapped into the town’ s many pubs and dining rooms.
As trade shifted and storage needs changed, however, the building fell into disrepair and by the 2000s, it stood as a relic of commercial history- structurally impressive, yes, but empty, being considered too big to overlook, but not quite enough to entice a straightforward buyer. Enter Heritage Lab Ramsgate, a notfor-profit with a mission to turn heritage into opportunity. Backed by regeneration partners and Kent’ s No Use Empty programme, they set out to revive the warehouse, not as a museum piece, but as a generating force in Ramsgate’ s future.
The result is a three-storey creative ecosystem. At street level sits a bright café and communal courtyard; a place alive with laptops, lattes and lively chat, while upstairs, Ramsgate Works offers flexible coworking for freelancers, remote workers and
THE JOHN
budding businesses priced out of traditional office spaces. Below, in the characterful basement, Ramsgate Arts Club hosts live performance, intimate gigs and film nights- the kind of cultural heartbeat every coastal town craves.
The transformation also has some serious and well-respected economic clout, with local contractors employed, many apprentices trained and more than 10,000 visitors a year pouring through its doors bringing footfall and spending to the surrounding streets. Where there were once barrels are now ideas being stored, shared and celebrated, so Ramsgate didn’ t just rescue an historic building, it reinstated its purpose as a place that fuels social connection and future ambition.
The Old Kent Barn, Dover
In the quiet countryside between Canterbury and Folkestone, The Old Kent Barn stands proudly as proof that rural buildings can evolve without losing their identity. More than 250 years ago, this was a working farm structure built for cattle and hay. Its timbers- salvaged from old sailing ships, according to locals- speak to a time when Kent’ s inland and maritime histories were intertwined by necessity rather than romance.
By the early 2000s, agriculture had changed and the building was at risk of slipping into redundancy, but instead of letting it decline, its owners saw a chance to preserve both fabric and feeling, hoping to retain its rustic character while elevating the space into something extraordinary.
Today, The Old Kent Barn is an exclusiveuse wedding venue and quite the awardcollector having been recognised nationally for its outstanding service and pictureperfect setting. Couples marry beneath exposed oak beams, with the pastoral calm of the countryside as their soundtrack and twinkling fairy lights brightening evening celebrations that stretch long into the night.
Crucially, this reinvention doesn’ t airbrush history; the beams still show the notches of their former life, with the structure still reminding guests that it once sheltered livestock. Once considered obsolete, it’ s this very authenticity that people are happy to pay for in a setting that a new-build venue simply can’ t mimic.
The George, Bethersden
In diminutive Bethersden, The George has always been a cornerstone- the quintessential village pub where you could find a decent pint, a decent meal and a decent chat. But over decades of rural change encompassing shop closures, rising isolation and increasing need, the pub’ s role began to stretch far beyond food and drink.
Recognising that locals needed warmth, company and support as much as beer and Sunday roasts, the team embraced a reinvention with help from Pub is The Hub, a national initiative supporting community adaptations, adding a café and a hot-food support service designed specifically for residents who might otherwise go without.
Today, mornings might see neighbours sharing coffee and conversation, afternoons host community groups, and evenings return that unmistakeable comfort of the pub’ s traditional hospitality. The building hasn’ t flipped from bar to charity hub, though, rather it’ s absorbed both identities seamlessly- you can still order your usual and uou can still celebrate birthdays in the back room, but you can also find someone to talk to if you’ re lonely, a warm meal if you’ re struggling and a familiar welcome if home feels a bit too quiet.
This is reinvention without fanfare, a practical, compassionate extension of what village pubs have always been at their best- lifelines. Proving that adaptation doesn’ t have to erase tradition, at The George it simply strengthens it and its purpose now runs deeper and more meaningfully as a result.
The Cotton Mill Micro Pub, Swanley
On Station Road in Swanley, where trains rattle past commuters hurrying home, stands a small white building that once served as a very practical stop for very practical needs. Built in the 1930s, it was a classic public toilet block- tiled, functional, but eventually forgotten. Over time it fell empty, boarded up, painted with graffiti and dismissed as a structure simply waiting to be demolished.
Luckily, Sasha and Dave Miller felt differently. In 2018, armed with vision, stubborn optimism and a working knowledge of DIY, they bought the unloved loos and got to work, stripping, scrubbing, plumbing and sanding until a micropub began to appear within the former cubicles.
They named it The Cotton Mill- a nod to the Millers, not the industry- and filled it with delicious ales, warm conversation and community spirit. No thumping music or flashing fruit machines, just the gentle clink of proper pint glasses and the sound of people actually talking to each other. Naturally, the locals noticed and as word spread, regulars formed and soon this tiny rebirth had become a modest triumph in the ongoing story of Kent’ s now booming micropub movement.
Not content with simply rescuing the building, the Millers have now secured planning permission for a small expansion, adding a kitchen to serve roast dinners, pizzas and hearty plates that will punters happy and full.
Most stories of former toilet blocks involve demolition, not ambition, but not this one- The Cotton Mill is a beacon of what happens when someone sees more than a past purpose and its future looks bright.
The John, Canterbury
Beneath Canterbury’ s well-trodden Burgate, where shoppers and tourists carry Bluewater bags and cathedral guidebooks, there’ s a staircase that dips below street level and into the city’ s most mischievous reinvention. The John- yes, named knowingly after the thing it once was- occupies what used to be a fully functioning set of 1930’ s public conveniences. For decades, locals descended those steps not in search of a Negroni, but to answer nature’ s call in the most municipal way imaginable.
Closed in the early 2000s, the once-busy loos became dark, damp and decidedly unloved. Underground spaces rarely get
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