Let’s go to the pub!
I wrote recently about the Lord John and have written one or two in the past about The Prince Albert. We are also blessed with the Crown and Sceptre of course as well as the Ale House and too many others to mention. We went on a Stroud version of Bloomsday a couple of years ago with a Loomsday – weaving of stories as we crawled up the town. http://radicalstroud.co.uk/radical-pub-crawl-loomsday/
That is unfinished business.
The text and pictures below come from my older brother, Keith. We intend to meet up with my sister, Fliss, and brother-in-law, Rod, and go on a ghost pub pilgrimage around the lost pubs of Swindon after the lockdown ends. We also intend to have an old-fashioned trip to the seaside.
I’m looking forward to a revived Loomsday pub crawl in Stroud, too. I also propose an outing to the seaside on the train or by charabanc. Just like Laurie Lee in Cider with Rosie.
And just as my dad and grandad did back in the 1950s (see picture – our dad is the handsome one, of course). Obvs, not just men though, this time.
The Topographer’s Arms think you – we - deserve a trip to the seaside or somewhere scenic and let’s do a little bit of toping too.
We hope to see you.
After the duration.
More details to follow.
That’s enough from me.
Over to my brother, Keith.
Let’s go to the pub!
We have been through much, lost many friends and there is a dreary sameness to the days.
But let’s open the door of a public house and remember the past.
The pub is the Wheatsheaf, Dores Road, Upper Stratton, Swindon. The time is the early 1950’s. We are starting our ghost walk pilgrimage and this will be our first port of call.
The Wheatsheaf is in its first incarnation. Three generations of the Ingram family have been landlords since 1879. Three generations of the Butler family will call it their local.
Pictures: The Wheatsheaf 1953 Blue and Ivory Coaches, Dores Road
On this particular evening, in The Wheatsheaf, sometime in the 1950s, a new idea is formed.
We have heard the horticultural boasts; of potatoes harvested in May, of marrows that took two men to lift. We have heard horticultural woes of too much rain, of plants that have got “the fly”.
Clarence Butler commands the floor. “Listen, lads. Let’s have an outing. We can form a club, pay in by the week, hire a Blue and Ivory from up the road and go to the seaside for the day.”
And so “The Squizzlers” is formed.
The Squizzlers’ Outing from The Wheatsheaf
Clarence Butler, Clarence Butler
Hire a Blue and Ivory
All along, down along, out along lee
For we are going on a trip to the sea
With Clar Butler, Arthur Lindsey
Jack Spackman, Joe Larner
Wally Bates, Ted Burden
Bill Fuller, Ernie Hedger
Jack Sheppard, Arthur Spackman
Dennis Ingram, Roddy Butler
Old Uncle Tom Cobley and all
Old Uncle Tom Cobley and all
My Childhood Memories Again
You could listen to the ventriloquist on the wireless,
You could watch your dad build a television set,
It looked good in the shed but irritated the neighbours who had tellies
Cuz it transmitted rather than received and interfered with their legit reception,
You could sit on the arm of a chair,
Pretend it was a horse and you were the Lone Ranger,
When at last you got a proper telly,
You could think that Swindon must be really important,
Cuz when you went on day trips to Weston or Weymouth,
Everybody else seemed to come from Swindon too,
You could think that suburbs of Swindon,
Like Upper and Lower Stratton were proper rural villages,
Especially when out the back at the Wheatsheaf,
Sipping Vimto (anagram of vomit) in the dark,
Absent-mindedly eating blue bags of salt,
Gathered from out of your bag of potato crisps,
Pressing your face against the small window,
That opened a light into the public bar,
Where all was high spirits and sing song,
And where grown-ups seemed to be behaving
In a most un-grown up way;
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