When searching for an electrical socket in an establishment serving beer, it is not recommended that you either seek the advice of any staff member or ask their permission to use such a socket to charge your mobile phone or iPod. The reasons are many and varied. Ones encountered on our journey include the inability to understand simple English, not understanding simple energy requirements of such devices, not being able to sit close to a socket unless you are dining, having to ask other members where such sockets are found and having to seek the permission of a person in a high position of authority such as a chambermaid, a cloakroom attendant or khazi cleaner.
So the best advice is stealth. Get your crew to scramble within the establishment and independently search the premises without looking guilty. Starting in dark corners is a good bet and as far away as possible from spying eyes of any dutiful staff.
Most of the characters you meet in boating circles are good old boys and good old girls, however there are always some exceptions to the rule. The two characters in question were a couple of guys originally of Dutch extraction born in Zimbabwe and currently living in Australia, who where here on a boating holiday in their Motherland.
We moored up to a sanitation station for a pump out and heard a voice “They’ve pinched our fuckin’ space mate”. Phil being more than capable of holding his own with any such lout, promptly told him to move off in jerky movements. Naturally being a coward and without even trying, the first Boer backed down and suddenly was all sweet and light.
The second Boer told Jimmy about their exodus from Zimbabwe. Apparently they had both been farmers, and then the tirade suddenly came.”It was a great country before we had that fuckin’ thick mop head Mugabe got in and changed things . They couldn’t even peel a banana or spell a word with more than three letters, those black bastards. If I had my way, I’d ring fence the place and nuke the fuckers. Why the Yanks and you are fighting a gang of sand-niggers is beyond belief, they should fuck-off to Zimbabwe and make it a white supremacy again. Those black fuckers should all be slaves again and the shit beaten out them. And as for that other fuzzy white haired fucker, they should have left him on Robbens Island to rot.”There’s nothing quite like meeting a true global diplomat while exploring the tranquil English countryside.
As the guy was taking, he was becoming more and more red faced and we were sure that we had only touched the tip of his hatred ice-berg concerning his former beloved country but he had demonstrated what is really meant to be white and above all ,to be proud of it.
Phil asked if they were the only crew on the boat, and the greater of the two evils relayed the tale.
“There used to be a third person on the boat until one day she suddenly fucked off. She was a Jewish woman who we’d ask to come along to do a bit of slaving in the galley but she got fed up with us and one morning packed her bags and scarpered .
He then told us that “if you managed to get a Jewess between the sheets , it was supposed to bring you 7 years good luck, well she didn’t bring us any fuckin’ luck, only fuckin’ grief”. Phil interjected and said” I suppose if you broke a mirror and then slept with a Jewess you wouldn’t get 7 years bad luck and if you shagged two of them would still get good luck even if you did smash a mirror ?”...or words to that effect.
Another nicety of the Thames is the prospect of mooring up in idyllic surroundings. You just select a place, jump of the boat and secure it with the use of a couple of mooring pins and Bob’s your uncle. The only probably when doing this alone is jumping off the boat to find that you are without the pins and the hammer used to drive the mooring pins home. Such an episode occurred when we were heading up stream from Abingdon.
Both Billy and Phil, each wanting to back the big brown motor home out of the garage, demanded that the boat be stopped at a suitable dumping station and the Captain remembered that there was such a public convenience in a public park on the Thameside at Abingdon .All three alighted off the boat and Billy and Phil hot footed off to the toilet, leaving Jimmy to tie up the boat. In the absence of mooring pins and any suitable sky hooks, he used his knowledge of bondage and tied both ropes around his own waist and without any thought for his personal safety waited for his intrepid crew to return much relieved after their logging out session.
Just as they were leaving the dumping station, the Captain pointed to the public swimming pool and told the Boy and Mate about an incident that had happened there a couple of years ago. “My missus and I once went for a swim there and I was in the process of taking a couple of pictures of her and this big hand came over my shoulder and said” Excuse me Sir, you’re not allowed to take photographs in the swimming pool to which I asked “Why the hell not then?” “Child protection Sir” “ I just looked at the guy and said” You must be stupid and blind then , that woman I am taking some pics of is my wife, she’s a grandmother and it’s obvious that she’s not a child” “Sorry Sir ,it’s not me, it’s the council’s policy”.” I replied “Well if that’s the case then, don’t ever touch my shoulder again or I’ll have to report you for assaulting a senior citizen!!
If you are fortunate like us to be using a boat with a 4.3 l engine, that is more suited to the sea and belting along at over 20 knots, you can understand why
this machine is a thirty beast, even thirstier than Phil when on a boozing session .There are now only a handful of places on the Thames that now sell petrol and such outlets have invented a method to make money. This process is based on supply and demand and having a monopoly they can legally rob you by charging exorbitant prices for petrol.
Red Line Marine is such a place found on the banks of the Thames at Abingdon charging the hard up boater about an extra 30 % for the privilege of gassing up. The guy who runs the place Sid, known locally as Hissing Sid is a miserable, anti- social guy who has had two recent bouts of surgery. A charisma by-pass operation and an arse-hole transplant, both of which have been successful.
The Captain had previously phoned up the guy to find out what time the place opened in the morning and was told 9 o’clock. When he eventually arrived forty minutes late the Captain asked him why he was late, he just replied “Am I” and when asked how much fuel he stocked in his tank? He answered “Enough”
For the aficionado of Porgs ,when when finds a pub of such a name, the pulse starts to race and the beads of sweat form on the brow with excitement and when the dwarf lover finds that it is situated in a road called Midget Close he thinks he has found his Mecca for people who are vertically changed. Well all the lovers of these Lilliputians people will be vastly disappointed to learn that Midget pub is nothing do with these diddy little people but is concerned with a model of car, and it is this that the pub is named after.
The Pub was opened on the 12th December 1974 and together with the brewery Morlands brewery they held a competition to name it. As the MG works was based in Abingdon the winning entry chosen was The Magic Midget after an MG racecar. John and Val Hitchcock were the first landlords and stayed running the pub for 5 years. The Magic Midget has been refurbished several times with three different bars catering for families and the community.In 2002 it completely transformed in to a one open bar layout and concentrates on good food, live music and sport. With the dramatic new look it also shortened its name to The Midget it became modern, brighter and more appealing to its female customers but not alas to Porgs.
The barmaids, akin to the bar boys at the Barley Mow were also dressed in black. These girls were called Elaine and Mary and they were in their late twenties but could have passed for late thirties. Both of these ladies were pleasant but refused to have their photos taken. The reasons for this are many fold. Maybe they told their husbands that they were visiting an elderly aunt on a regular basis when really they just a free night out and getting paid for it. Maybe they were moonlighting and avoiding tax or maybe they were claiming social security while working and not informing the Department of Total Obscurity of their part time employment.
We all know that the wearing of black is most commonly associated with funerals, church services, court rooms, ceremonies, important business transactions, and formal social events. But have you ever pondered what all of these have in common? These are all settings in which important and serious purposes must be served and the greatest service of all can be no better than serving three men who have been in a boat
Homosexuals, despite their caring , creativity and sensitive natures have always been subjected to ridicule and abusive language by the ignorant hetero-sexual part of our society and our crew had no intention to abandon this tradition on this often pretentious matter when they saw of couple of guys mincing along hand in hand.”No wonder they get called all the names under the sun, it’s a downright unnatural “said the Captain and so the Captain started with brown hatters, turd burglars, Marmite Miners, sausage jockeys, anal intruders, pillow biters, and doughnut punchers .Not to be beaten Phil, being more conventionally straight expanded the list to included queers, poofers, irons, woofers, arse bandits, knob jockeys, shirt lifters, shit stabbers, fudge packers and faggots
And of course Billy being the gentlest among the crew pitched in with fruits, fairies, peter-puffers, nancy boys, uphill gardeners and Irish creamers.
Billy said “It’s not fair, there’s more bent women than bent guys and so there’s less fanny to go around and you never hear them being called by names.”You don’t think so eh Billy” “Well what about lesbos, dykes, clit lickers, and rug munchers for a start” said The First Mate and then the Captain added just for good measure “Bean flickers, lezzies and todger dodgers.
“You know “said the Captain, ”Our conversation about these gays could be construed at being very politically incorrect”."Whenever I watch any of these chat shows on the telly, the interviewer always asks comedians some silly question like "Does being politically correct affect the type of material that you use?" said the Cabin Boy, he continued "Well what is this political correctness all about then?"
The Captain explained”Political correctness, PC for short, is something that started out as a sort of moral common sense - actually not a bad idea, eg. saying 'black person' instead of 'god-damn cotton-pickin' nigger'. However, the whole thing got utterly out of hand in the early 90s to the point where a lot of people will say 'Afro-Carribean' or 'Afro-American' because they think it's racist to say 'black'! It gets even more ridiculous when you consider that in some parts people think it's offensive to 'blackboard' or 'black coffee'. What began as a force for good (considering the number of people who really are racist, sexist and homophobic) has since become a laughing stock because of the ridiculous extremes to which certain neurotic ultra-liberals took it - cf. a person being 'vertically challenged' rather than short. This has actually undone a lot of progress made in changing bigoted attitudes (as bigot can claim any offence taken at their views is 'political correctness gone mad), whilst making people feel guilty for enjoying anything but the blandest, most anemic humour for fear of being 'offensive'. I mean, seriously, what's funnier out of 'Friends' and 'South Park'? (Or 'The League of Gentlemen' for the benefit of any Brits out there?) At the same time straight white able-bodied men' like us Billy are going out of their way to talk about 'ethnic people' (who ISN'T ethnic!?) and those of 'different sexual orientation', there are blacks calling themselves niggas (which has been going on for years), gays calling themselves (and each other!) poof, queens and queers, and so on - the real way to neutralize a term used as an insult is for those to whom it was applied to use it themselves. AT its worst, political correctness is nothing different form Orwell's Newspeak - an attempt to change the way people think by forcibly changing the way they speak. So let's have a backlash against the nannying, interfering, cotton-wool Stalinism 'political correctness' has become - not to placate bigots, but to speak the truth and enjoy outrageous humour like we're meant to. Remember, the next time someone says they don't like Harry Potter because Hermione is a stereotypically sensitive girl, the relevant word to call them is 'c****. Yes a great many stereotypes exist because they're essentially TRUE.
Over the years there has been a large number of Real Ales developed by some of the smaller micro-breweries which have a range of “funny flavoured “beers. For example Tom Seefurths brewery produces “Mama Mia Pizza” beer”, Charles Wells produces “Banana Bread “ beer and Pets at Home launched a couple of years ago ,a steak flavoured beer for dogs called “Kwispelbier”, which when translated from Dutch to English becomes “tail wagging”.. a real pooch hooch.
The Black Swan had one such of these designer beers called Strawberry Fields a product of the Davenport brewery in Birmingham. This beer did live up to its expectation, you could really smell the strawberries in it, the only thing that spoilt it was that it didn’t come complete with cream and video highlights of this year’s Wimbledon
If one is to take part in a pub quiz, as we did at the Black Swan in Abingdon, you should always remember to have a full team and to have a team that consists of enthusiastic members. Such not, was our team, which consisted of 2.1 members, Billy being the 0.1 member answering one of the questions correctly despite his total lack of enthusiasm. In one of the rounds which consisted of identification of parts of people’s faces Phil scored almost maximum points, if the picture round consisted of bums, boobs and legs, Billy would have probably achieved gold status. As it was, we came almost an honest last. And why honest? You may well ask. When we looked around the pub, a couple of teams had team members using their mobile phones, were they phoning a friend? NO,trying to chat to an old maiden aunt ? NO, trying to give a donation to a charitable institution over the phone? NO, just plain old cheating using their mobile’s internet browser capabilities to search for the answers .Oh and speaking of cheating, we did use the pubs electricity supply to charge our own mobile phones without getting permission from the landlord in triplicate in case we were challenged by members of the pub Gestapo. The next time we play in a pub quiz, we will have a full complement of four team members, all wi-fied up to their “quiz companions with their bank of laptops” who are secreted in the windowless van outside in the car park.
We walked around Abingdon trying to find a place to eat in. This proved to be more difficult than it seemed and even more difficult to find a pub that served food. Billy having a very large nasal organ suddenly said “I can smell fish and chips “and there it was, a proper English fish and chip shop, or so we thought.
On entering the shop, which also had a seating area, we perused the menu. There must have been about 80 items on the menu including kebabs, curry and burgers. Now if someone can tell us the connection between English fish and chips and these items, we would like to know. Kebabs originate from Middle Eastern countries such as Iran, curries originate from South Asian countries such as Indian and burgers originate from Northern America namely USA and the guys who were running the shop came from Latvia.
When it came to the Lemon Place, which should have been more aptly called The Lemon Plaice, the fish and chips were very good indeed. The fish was cod and not just some “whitefish” and the chips were actually proper chips and not some mass produced, frozen reconstituted potato powder. Sitting in the window seat allowed us to “watch the girls go by” while scoffing some proper English fare albeit produced from a multi-cultural kitchen.
Abingdon is quite an historic place which boats a 7th century abbey, a 14th century market,a 15th century guildhall and a 17th century county hall.
As we walked around Abingdon , the Captain turned the First Mate and said ”You know Big Fella “This place must have the biggest concentration of take-aways in the country as it seems that every second shop we see is a take-away ranging from English to Chinese ,Indian to Turkish. It is hard to believe that such a nice place has been spoilt by some eateries and these often lower the tone of a place, just look at the type of people who frequent these type of places when the pubs turn out” “Yea “said the First Mate “Old drunks with cast iron stomachs who’d eat anything once they’ve had a skinful ” said The First Mate “And that rules us out on one account then ?” added the Cabin Boy.
Now let’s s look at what Abingdon is famous for.In 1084William the Conquerorcelebrated Easter at the Abbey and then left his son, the futureHenry I, to be educated there.
In 1790,Abingdon Lockwas built, bringing navigation to the town instead of via the Swift Ditch. In 1810, theWilts and Berks Canalopened, linking Abingdon withSemington on theKennet and Avon Canal. Abingdon became a key link between major industrial centres such as Bristol,London,Birminghamand theBlack Country. In 1856 the Abingdon Railway opened, linking the town with theGreat Western Railwayat Didcot . TheWilts and Berks Canalwas abandoned in 1906 but a voluntary trust is now working to restore and re-open it.Abingdon railway stationwas closed to passengers in September 1963. The line remained open for freight until 1984, including theMGcar factory which was opened in 1929 and remained open until October 1980, whenBritish Leylandclosed it as part of rationalisation.
The nearestrailwaystation is now Radley , two miles (3 km) away. The branch line is now mainly replaced by a cycle path, whilst the land on which the station stood has been extensively redeveloped, and is now the site of a largeWaitrosestore and surrounded by hundreds of new flats and houses.
The most distinguished landmark in Abingdon is probably the building which now houses theAbingdon County Hall Museum, which was formerly the county hall ofBerkshire(the town was the county town until it ceded that title toReadingin 1867): a building hailed as the "grandest town hall in Britain.
Another major employer is the British head office of the German appliance companyMiele but don’t mention the war!
As was usual with Billy ,he asked “Is there anyone famous from Abingdon, “I’m not too sure if that guy who burnt the cakes is from here “Of you mean Mr.Kipling “ laughed The First Mate “ No that old King ,King Alfred” and of course there’s that woman who writes funny poems and talks in that real
Overnight mooring on the Thames can be often difficult to find an expensive. For example when mooring on council owned temporary mooring at Henley, it cost £9.00 per day and during the regatta week this creeps up to £40-50 per day dependant on which day of the regatta week you decide to stay on. By quick calculation the cost of mooring at Henley would cost about £40,000 for a year. Let’s consider that this is equivalent to paying council tax and pose the question what is council tax and what is it used for?
Council Tax is a local tax that is used to fund services such as schools, rubbish collection, social services, and police and fire services. You may hear it called the Poll Tax or Community Charge, although these were earlier forms of local taxation.
In the case of the moorings at Henley there are four waste paper bins and a couple of park benches. What do boaters get for their mooring fees at Henley? The answer is bugger all! If you want to avoid paying these fees just anchor up three feet off the bank and the council employee of the peak-capped brigade will not be able to annoy you first thing in the morning when he comes tapping on your windscreen and demanding payment. To rub ointment unto his little beady eyes go for the jugular and tell him to go and read assuming he can read and speak English, the Environment Agency’s publication “ A users guide to the River Thames” ( Edition 5/2006 p.22 paragraph 1) which states that “in general boats have a right to anchor in the Thames for up to 24 hours in any one place provided no obstruction is caused to the navigation channel, and he can stick that in his pipe and smoke it.
The Vale of the White Horse Council on the other hand positively encourages boaters. A Welcome to Abingdon sign states “These moorings are provided for your enjoyment free of charge” with “a maximum stay of 5 consecutive days”
When you first see Didcot Power station from the Thameside it is like a back-drop from the futuristic film Blade Runner. In the beautiful countryside, you suddenly see this modern version of an architect designed structure partly Stonehenge and partly Big Brother, watching out over the landscape.
The power station consists of one central tower about 600 ft in height and two areas containing three cooling towers each of about 100 ft in height.
There have been a number of environmental protests from the tree huggers over the years. Once a group of protesters from Greenpeace invaded the power station and chained themselves to a broken conveyor belt and at the same time another group climbed up the highest chimney, set up a climate camp and then daubed on the side of the tower “Blair’s legacy”.”I bet that they didn’t know how close they were to the truth” said Jimmy, who then went on to say that those “thick, misguided gits wouldn’t have known the Orwellian connection in that George Orwell’s real name was Eric Blair and that he was buried locally in All Saint's Churchyard in Sutton Courtenay” Phil just quipped “Fascinating” and then feigned sleep and snore mode.
If you visit many of the locks on the Thames you will see that some of the lock keepers or somebody from the Environmental Agency has erected plaques to show flood marks over the years and at Culham lock there are three such marks. There were large floods at this lock in 1875, 1894 and 1947.
Floods are natural events. They mainly happen when the rivercatchment, (that is the area of land that feeds water into the river and the streams that flow into the main river) receives greater than usual amounts of water (for example through rainfall or melting snow). The river cannot cope and this extra water causes the level of the water in the river to rise and a flood to take place. This flooding may take place at any point along the river course and not necessarily at the place where the extra water has entered.
So why can’t we manage floods in the 21st century. Well we have predicted computer models to simulate rainfall and rain fall patterns but God in his wisdom doesn’t make it that simple and gives us no warnings and in the words of Forest Gump ”Life’s like one big rain cloud, just don’t just know how much you’re gonna get next”
The otter, once driven to near-extinction by pollution, hunting and destruction of its habitat, is making a return to the heart of London.
In the 1930s, the Thames and its tributaries were home to the 4ft-long creatures. In 2005 there are thought to be no more than 13 otters in the South-east.
A massive clean-up of the Thames and its tributaries, a project to return the otter was launched several years ago and wildlife experts hoped that cleaning up the water will bring these wonderful creatures back. The Captain told us “A couple of years ago, I saw a family party of six otters crossing the Thames just down from Purley Creek Marina, so it just goes to show that sometimes man can clean up the environment"."At a cost " said the First Mate "these cuddly looking beast are real, mean fishing machines and can easily wipe out a fishery in no time at all."
Otter hunting was banned in 1979. Otter hunting reached its peak of popularity in the years preceding World War I. At that time there were more than 500 hounds in 24 packs which hunted otter, isn’t it wonderful that since this barbaric fun blood sport has been banned that otters can now actually be seen in many parts of the Thames region. The words of Oscar Wilde still run true today on what he said about fox hunting “The unspeakable in full pursuit of the uneatable'
The pike today on the Thames is now under a new threat. No not by pollution, well sort of but a different type, they are under threat from extinction due to the flood gates being opened for the arrival of thousands of Eastern Europeans. These people have no respect for our fisheries or laws and any fish they catch they eat thus depleting our fish stocks. They often fish with no licenses and use a range of illegal methods to catch “our fish” for their “pots”. When approached about their unwanted activities they suddenly pretend that they can’t speak English and use a range of tactics to avoid being brought to justice as criminal which they are. If one had to ask a true Brit “Would you rather see one pike or a thousand Polaks ?”, we all know what any true Brit would choose.
Birds of a feather “as the saying goes” flock together” or in the case of the Barley Mow, “Weirdos of the Wild” get “drunk together”. No longer were Apple Blossum Don or the all dancing, prancing landlord our prey, but the man in the bright purple Crocs, tartan shorts and white flowing beard.
Brian of the Beard was eighty four years of age and was a triple cross between, a tramp, Cat Weasel and Dusty Hill, the white bearded one from ZZ Top.
In order to make advances towards and chat up such a fierce adversary requires all of the strength and stealth that a man can muster up. Without more ado, Phil snook from the side and took Brian by surprise and asked “ Excuse me kind Sir “What creatures inhabit your beard ?”,Brian replied “The last time I looked it only contained a couple of chickens but that was last week”
In essence, to snare a bearded man into conversation, the mere mention of livestock appears to do the trick, preferably animals with between two and four legs.
Brian may have been of Aboriginal extraction since every time we took a photo of him, he closed his eyes just in case we captured his soul and shadow!
English pubs are known for their wealth of personalities and mine host, Benny at the Barley Mow was such a chappie. Looking like a cross between the naughty vicar Chris Biggins in the BBC series Poldark and a character from the Men in Black film, he entertained us for a good part of the afternoon.
Phil ordered up three pints of Old Hooky , a excellent brew produced by the Hook Norton Brewery but was promptly told by the Man in Black, “I only serve beer to my gentlemen customers when I have thoroughly cleaned my pipes out. It was then that we had suspicions that the man in Black may have been batting for the other side!
After listening to his bar keeping prowess he recommended that we try a couple of pints of We Have Blown It –now there’s a another thought but not today sweetie!
It came to pass that we eventually mentioned to the Man in Black our “Three Men in a Boat” trip. He told us “ The BBC made a version, I think it was in 2005, and starred those comediansGriff Rhys Jones,Dara Ó Briain, andRory McGrath and they didn’t even visit my pub although it featured in the book, however when I watched the film I could see the windows of my boudoir in the distance.”
It is often said that the gay people are often of an artistic bent and well suited to the arts. Low and behold, the Man in Black almost tripped over and combined it with a series of movements accounting to fancy dance steps better suited to the Bolshoi ballet than a country pub.
Don was a 73 year guy we met in the Barley Bow and how did he get his name is a tale in itself. Don had been suffering from a heart condition for several years after drinking many pints of beer accompanied by whisky chasers and had been advised to stop drinking these two brews. Don had asked the doctor what could he drink instead and the doctor told him apple juice.”Didn’t tell me it had to be un-fermented “he told us” and he now only consumes about ten pints a day of this a day.
When we met Don, he was quiet to start off with but after a few pints, he let his guard down and joined us.
Jimmy convinced him that we were making a documentary on a new version of Three Men in Boat and that he was very surprised that Don didn’t recognise him from his many TV appearances in his imagination. When questioned further of his oversight Don said” I expect that my granddaughter would recognise Jimmy from TV as she watches so much TV she has square eyes”.
Phil accidently on purpose told Don that Jimmy has once been some kind of teacher to which Don told us all that he hated school and could hardly read or write. When he told us that he used to be a train driver he was questioned on how he could read the signs found on the railway track” he replied “My missus taught me how to recognise what the signs meant”
Don then told us about going out on a bender over Christmas” I didn’t even bother to go home for his Christmas dinner ‘cos I was enjoying myself so much without my missus , I also turned down to other dinner invitations, and besides that I was so pissed, I forgot where I’d parked the van and couldn’t remember where I lived”
The early afternoon drinking session continued and Don delighted us with some of his stories.
He told us about his old next door neighbour he met in a pub that he hadn’t seen for a couple of years and Don noticed that he had put on a lot of weight. Don had asked him “How come you’ve put such a lot of weight on? “. Well” said his ex-neighbour “When I lived next door to you and your missus, I used to be ultra slim and fit because I used to walk six miles to the pub each night , well now we live just next door to the pub!”
Such are some folk, you can’t even give away drink, Cider Don refused to accept any of our offers of drinks but when we took photographs of him, in one of them he squared up the Big Fella and in another, after all he’d already supped a gallon of loon juice before the sun was even over the yardarm, he tried to kiss the Captain.... what a bounder, and the camera never lies does it Apple Blossum Don.
The Barley Mow in the picturesque village Clifton Hampden is a delightful “thatched cottage” and it is said that it can dated back to 1352 and its claim to fame being that it is mentioned in Jerome’s book and just inside the door is a wall mounted inscription.
The pub was originally two old farm cottages and inside there is a fireplace which is so large it that it straddles two different areas of the pub. There are plenty of nooks and crannies where you can savour the atmosphere of a secluded meal and talk about manly things without being seen or heard.
Like all Chef and Brewer pubs it produces pretty much standard, slightly up market pub grub and is a dam site more inviting than the Kings Arms at Sanford, another Chef and Brewer establishment that has tried unsuccessfully to elevate itself to a gourmet hostelry
The pub was originally two old farm cottages and inside there is a fireplace which is so large it that it straddles two different areas of the pub. There are plenty of nooks and crannies where you can savour the atmosphere of a secluded meal and talk about manly things without being seen or heard.
Like all Chef and Brewer pubs it produces pretty much standard, slightly up market pub grub and is a dam site more inviting than the Kings Arms at Sanford, another Chef and Brewer establishment that has tried unsuccessfully to elevate itself to a gourmet hostelry .
In the 1960s, there were 25,000 post offices and this number has now fallen to about 11,000 and many rural post offices such as the one at Clifton Hampden are under the constant threat of closure.
Only last year, MPs were told by the government that the cuts were needed because of losses of £4m a week, twice as much as in the previous year.
Most recently, post offices have been affected by the decision to pay pension and child benefit directly into bank accounts while TV licences, driving licences and passports are now being supplied online and through other retailers.
When the local post office closes, often the last shop in the village also closes as
well;this is also is the death knell for thousands of local shops and rural businesses that depend on their local post office.”Like so many other sad facts of life lads” said The First Mate.”Slowly and bit by bit, another one of our traditions is being thrown away”.”And what tradition is that then? asked the Captain.”I’m taking about English community spirit, you know that thing that helped us to win two world wars for a start and to all intents and purposes, single handed “continued the First Mate.”But what about the Yanks then, they had a big part in World War Two didn’t them?” Sort of, the war started in 1939 and the Yanks came in a couple years later, and in typical John Wayne style, they were like the cavalry and came charging in and helped to save our bacon””Well what d’ya think made them join in “asked the Cabin Boy”. The First Mate continued”Well those slant eyes attacked some yankee ships in Pearl harbor and they thought that the Japs may join the Germans, so they became our comrades in arms. The Yanks did get their revenge on the Japs though and nuked them when they dropped the world’s first atomic bomb on Hiroshoma.””Cheers Phil” said Billy “But what started the war then?”.”Perhaps I can answer that one, First Mate? “said the Captain.”It started in 1939 when Germany led by that loony kraut Hitler andthe Nazi party, invaded Poland. The main forces were the Allied powers which consisted of us, the Ruskies and the Yanks , and the enemy army was the Germans, Japs , and the Itai’s. WW2 eventually spread through the entire Europe, Southeast Asia, The Pacific Ocean, and northern Africa. The war ended with an Allied victory.My dad fought in the war and he would say “That the Itai’s were the only soldiers he knew who could fire a gun while running backwards and that The Italian Book of War Heroes was the smallest book in the world. He used keep on about the Froggies as well and said that” They couldn’t fight their way out of a paper bag. Just look at them. France had one of the largest numbers of people in the whole of Eurpoe, and what did they do when Hitler invaded France? I’ll tell you what …fuck all, just let the Krauts take their houses, take their women and take their country over without any form of resistance of fighting .If you ask me the Froggies should have been called Pussies.
The Plough Inn used to be proper old fashioned pub until it was spoilt. Externally the building has been vastly improved and a new roof has replaced the old dilapidated .As soon as you get inside you notice the difference, it no longer is a pub but a small working hotel and you won’t find traditional English fayre. Instead you find that the menu is oriental style menu including cuisine from Beijing Sichuan and Cantonese. When asked by the Cabin Boy “Would they be serving up some proper grub?” the owner said that “When we have settled in, we hope to do some typical English food like a Sunday roast dinner”
The English countryside is blessed with a plethora of quaint place names and one of them is Clifton Hampden.
The Clifton part of the name refers to two words, obviously one is a clif and the second is a ton. Clifton Hampden finds itself in one of the flattest parts of the English countryside because it is on a river plain and is therefore “cliffless “ and secondly a “tun” is an old English word for a measurement of liquid volume. As for the second part of the word there is no clear documentation why this is included in the name of this place, which explains why the locals just call it Clifton.
Our arrival at Clifton was heralded with a large down pour of rain and a choice of directions in which to find our quarry-The Barley Mow. Having a choice of either turning left or right after alighting from the boat, Jimmy naturally chose the wrong direction and the crew ended up getting a jolly good soaking but at least they didn’t have to wash their clothes for the next few days.
Jerome K Jerome describes in his book “ Round Clifton Hampden, itself a wonderfully pretty village, old-fashioned, peaceful, and dainty with flowers, the river scenery is rich and beautiful” , What he didn’t include would have been some of the modern day intricacies of a little village such as, it has a Longbow Society, the village hall was were Radiohead first met and practiced and that the village boasts a herd of pedigree alpacas.
The Shillingford Bridge and the hotel, by the same is to be a recommended establishment. It has a bar, a restaurant with a, vista that you would kill for and it also has its own swimming pool. When we arrived there they had just completed the refurbishment of the ground floor areas including the restaurant, the bar lounge, reception, cloakrooms and entrance has created a modern contemporary look, whilst still in keeping with the traditional style of the building. The floors have beautifully tiled and there are comfy leather sofas and what we assume are oak tables and chairs.
We parked our pubs in the soft leather sofas and the Cabin Boy went up to the bar to order the drinks and turned around and said “Captain, they’ve only got Hob Goblin, will that do?” The First Mate laughed and replied” Yes Billy that will do, more of the goblin and less of the hob”. Billy placed the order and the barman said “Oh your friend is a ex-military man just like me then?” Billy, sort of, nodded in agreement.”If you just sit down sir, I’ll bring the drinks over”. Within thirty seconds Willy McNab, and asked the Captain what branch the army he had served in, and to keep him happy said” REME”.”What a small world eh”, said Willy, I was a lance-jack in the Sappers”.”What did you do in the engineers Sir” asked ex-Lance Corporal Mc.Nab.” I was in the bomb disposal squad “answered the Captain and then continued to use his scientific knowledge to bore everyone. He mentioned nitro, nitride , nitrite and azide containing explosives and then went on about abbreviated explosives such as RDX,PETN,HMX. Having further impressed Willy with tales of pure invention such as detonations in Northern Ireland, defusing a Buck Pal bomb, and saving hundreds of lives of the members of the Gay Liberation Front by correctly indentifying a hoax bomb at the Annual Queers Convention, the lowly Sapper bought us a round of drinks. To even more advantage of the situation, the First Mate asked “How much is it for bed and breakfast for war heroes Corporal Mc.Nab my good man?”The Corporal replied “It’s normally forty quid but I could do a staff rate of twenty for old soldiers like the Captain.
We decided that we had out lived our welcome and as we strolled across the lawns to our vessel, the Cabin Boy said” I didn’t know you did a stint in the army Captain “I didn’t, it was you who started to lead the poor chap on”, said the Captain, “But how did you know about all those explosives things then? “. The Captain replied “Many years ago when I was in the Officer Training Corps at Uni, I went on a couple of explosives courses run by REME and my scientific knowledge made the slight exaggeration easy. It would do a lot of good for those long, haired the university lay-a-bouts to do a stretch in OTC and make men of them instead of getting pissed everyday in the uni bar.” “So you did a bit of army service really then Captain “ “ I suppose so Billy, a bit like when we were in the Combined Cadet Force at St.Barts” said the Captain” “Across between playing soldiers and Dad’s Army “ laughed The First Mate “ “ A bit like that First Mate but if you joined OTC you got a small bursary each term and got paid while on training courses or camps and of course the extra shillings allowed us to get pissed “ “ What just like those university lay-a-bouts you just been slagging off eh! “ said the Cabin Boy
