NOTICE
RE: THE FANNY GREY HOTEL HIGH LANE
SALTERFORTH BB18 5SL. ("the premises")
TAKE NOTE that we, Enterprise Inns Plc the freehold owner of the Premises, have today entered the Premises for the purposes of making them safe AND NOT to bring the lease to an end.
Anyone with a lawful right to entry should contact 07990 550175 to gain access.
Enterprise Inns plc
3 Monkspath Hall Road
Solihull
B90 4SJ
TELEPHONE 0121 733 7700
SIGNED FOR AND IN BEHALF OF
ENTERPRISE INNS PLC
J.Wrenall
DATED
27/07/2010
The end of an era! My local for nigh on twenty years has, like many other pubs in the locality, closed-down and will probably never open again.
Pubs! Wonderful places which, for many years, have played a big part in my life. Where else could you go, and, for the price of your drink, park your car safely, be warm, have lighting at night, sit comfortably, spend as much time as you like over your drink, read a book, do a crossword, listen to music(if you were really desperate) be entertained by people-watching/listening. Play a game of darts, cards or dominoes. Buy a raffle ticket for the local village hall roof-fund. Be offered (and this is just between you and I of course) half a lamb for less than thirty pounds. "Anybody want to buy a mobile?" There would be Quiz Nights, New Years Eve parties, Bonfire Night, Bingo Nights, the list is as long as the imagination of the Landlord.
You can have free use of the toilet and, hopefully, hot water and soap to wash your hands and then a towel to dry them.
You would take your family, friends, work-mates for a meal. I spent many idle hours just sat at the end of the bar (on MY stool) just quietly contemplating everything/anything/nothing. There would be the chat and the banter, the righting of the worlds wrongs.
If you live on your own and are feeling lonely, you can walk in a pub and within minutes(at least where I live) you will be engaged in conversation with someone as if you had known them all your life, failing that the Landlord will try and tease-out your most intimate secrets.
My first contact with a pub was when I was about (and this is true) seven, just ask my mum. When my mum took me to visit my Black Grandma (she always wore black, didn't know her name. My other grandma was my Grey Grandma) she would ask me to go and get her beer for her. So, white jug in hand, I would walk past three rows of terraced houses to my granny's local, knock on the hatch which was the "off-licence", pass up the white jug to "the hand" that appeared out of the hatch and say "Granny Castle's beer please." A 6d piece was handed to "the hand" and the white jug was handed back, now full of foaming, frothing beer**. The next twenty minutes were the longest in my life, walking slowly back to Black Granny's without spilling a drop of the precious liquid in the white jug. Mission accomplished Black Granny would give me a 3d bit, a wonderful chunky coin, which was a fortune to me at the time and had me wishing (only joking of course) that Black Granny was an alcoholic.
**STOP PRESS
Mum just told me it was Guinness and cider.
The early 50's saw holidays to North Wales, a long train journey and then a taxi ride to a "wooden hut" close by sand dunes on a wonderful sandy beach. Mum and Dad weren't drinkers but we would have a walk to the nearest pub and enjoy the delights of "pop and crisps" sat outside.
Age 14(don't tell my mum, but I did look old for my age) saw me creeping in the back room of a local pub with... (the names have been withheld to protect the innocent) to make a pint of bitter last all night. This went on for quite a while, until one day I was getting off the train coming home from school, when the landlord of the pub, which was directly across from the railway station, was stood on the front doorstep and spotted me.
My 18th birthday came along and my first legal drink. A party was had at a local pub, many beers were drunk (and so was I). I staggered home on a frosty September night and fell asleep, the whole room whirling around me, with mutterings of "please God make me feel better and I promise never to drink again." And I didn't drink beer again! There arrived on the scene a new drink, Lager! And believe it or not we drank it with lime. It doesn't bear thinking about now.
Courting days were next, a night out was a walk (no car in those days) to a local pub.
This was the era when pubs were "Pubs". The days when pubs had many rooms, each one dedicated to something different. The Tap Room(male only) with darts, dominoes and cards. The Music Room, which always had a piano and hopefully a pianist (though they came in many degrees of competency). "There's an old mill by the stream Nelly Dean..." rang out all through the pub, much to the annoyance of the people in "The Lounge". This was the room for the posh people, complete with waiter in white jacket, with tray, and towel over his arm.
The Bar area was lined with bar stools which were all "owned" by someone and woe betide anyone who dare sit on a stool that was not theirs.
"A pint of lager-and-lime, a Babysham and two bags of crisps please".
A typical order for a courting couple in the 60's. No need to state what flavour of crisps you wanted there was only potato flavour and they came with a little blue packet of salt which you sprinkled on the crisps to your taste. An alternative would be a packet of nuts.
If it was a special occasion you would study the menu which would read as follows:
Pie and peas with raw onions in vinegar, with mint sauce 1/-3d
Stew and hard (a cold stew and oatcakes) 1/-6d
Sandwiches. Cheese and onion, ham, beef.1/-6d
Chicken and chips in a basket 2/-6d
Scampi and chips in a basket 5/-0d
DING DING
"Last orders please".
The ringing of a bell at ten-minutes-to-eleven was the signal to buy another drink if you wanted to, followed ten minutes later by:
DING DING
"Time Ladies and Gentlemen please".
Many a drink was rushed down in the last few minutes unless the Landlord, as many of them were, was prepared to close the doors and curtains and allow you to finish your drink, and possibly many more, in a civilised manner.
Courting days were followed by "married days".
Saturday was "The" night out and the night would be spent in a pub, the only alternatives were a small number of restaurants, which were far too expensive for us, and a few, but growing in number all the time, Chinese restaurants.
Every pub was packed, literally, standing room only unless you went out very early. This wasn't the days of going out for a quiet drink, it was so noisy. No "Drink driving" or "No smoking" problems in those days.
Most pubs had a jukebox, usually a wall mounted one, which would be fed with sixpenny pieces and you could play your favorite all night long if you wanted to.
The drive home was usually a scary event which ended up with twigs and leaves from hedgerows entangled in the wing-mirror, a call to the fish and chip shop for supper and a dash to watch "Match of the day" on TV.
Holidays with kids was usually me going to the pub early after tea, having a couple of pints and a chat to the locals, which one year ended up with me in a pub in Wales with it being "my turn" to take home the rather inebriated local Methodist minister, and then taking back pop and crisps for my kids.
Friday nights were special, providing there was enough money left, the whole family would go to the pub for a meal. We would all get dressed-up and the kids would walk in the pub trying to look grown-up with a big grin on their faces.
Not a drinker in these days, the highlight of the week would be a walk up to the town on Saturday night to the off-licence and come back with a can of lager and pop and crisps for kids, I could see them stood in the window watching with anticipation for me to get back with their special treat.
I worked at Rolls-Royce for most of my working days and they had a "Welfare Centre" a super place really with a bar and large snooker tables and this was my equivalent of a pub. I would go every Friday night with two friends, play snooker, darts and dominoes and we all buy a round each and that was my drinking for the week.
Every local pub had a darts team and my brother and I played for one of the town's pub team. Every Thursday night, through the season, we would meet up and go to whichever pub we were playing against. A wonderful memory of these nights was one of our team (won't embarrass him) was throwing at the dartboard and the room was showered in sparks, he had thrown his cigar instead of the dart.
No kids with us now on holidays, so the whole week was planned around pubs, not wanting to cook, lunches would be a walk to the nearest village pub and hopefully would be had sat in a beer garden in the sun which was always my favourite way of eating. Dinner at night would be a trip in the car to some pub or restaurant.
And then it happened! My daughter and wife started working at a local pub and I would run them on in the car and then go and bring them back home, so much of my time now was spent leaning against a bar having a beer waiting to take them home. More and more time was spent at the pub, quizzes, treasure hunts, even bingo nights and we became part of the furniture at the pub
But as all good things do it came to an end and the pub was sold, things changed and time to move on.
I started to go to another local pub the landlord of which I knew from primary school days, and got very attached to it, part of my life for seventeen years, I had my own stool at the end of the bar. There was the quiz on Tuesday night and the Thursday-night-craic with the lads around the bar.
The years came and went lunches and dinners were had at the pub with family and friends, until one night:
"We are leaving Ken."
The landlord and his wife had spent seventeen years of their life, possibly eighteen hours a day, working hard in the pub, and had had enough.
From there it was all downhill, different landlord, different ideas:
"Quizzes don't make me any money"
"Don't sit there, that's for diners."
The Thursday night gang disappearing one-by-one.
Until one Thursday night I walked in and...
"I threw all the bar-stools away they were looking a mess."
R.I.P
