Old School Pub

The Old School Pub has been closed for at least three years. Once the hub of village life it went through a few pairs of hands before being deserted. This is the Victorian former village school, one of the features which vizturs to the pub found charming was the original plumbing. When I say original I mean that it was installed for primary school and junior school children so lavatories and urinals are still at low level, and freezing.

There are plans to have it converted to offices and a coffee bar but these have been opposed by planners and some villagers for inexplicable reasons. Each delay causes yet another part of the building to be damaged by weather or yoblets, of which we have about three.

Each year there is a morning when I miss the pub. On Christmas Day it would be opened at 1200, we would all rush in, complete families, claim our free pint, buy a couple more and have a real hearty time with friends, then go home and fill ourselves with Christmas food.

What has this country lost?



Tales of North East folk. John, a fishing farmer.

One member of the Newburgh on Ythan Angling Club was John, a man who had worked all his life on his farm. His hands were the size of proverbial hams, yet his other hobby was repairing clocks. He had nearly 500 in his house, consequently when they all chimed it sounded like Bedlam at visiting time.

I was set up beautifully one day. A group of us had arrived on the estuary at the same time, ready to whip the water to a frenzy in the vain hope of catching a sea trout or salmon. As I wandered over to the lads one of them shook his head and said, "It's a damn shame." I asked what was the matter - Hooked. "It's poor old John, his wife has died suddenly."

At which point John arrived in his car, which left me rather speechless, an unusual occurrence. I dutifully went over to him, shook his hand and offered my condolences. "What do you mean?" he enquired. "Well I'm surprised you are here considering your wife has just died."
"Goodness me," he replied, "She was fine when I left her ten minutes ago."

That was when the penny dropped like a huge weight, the other anglers were falling over wetting themselves and John was in hysterics, the barstewards.

At the Christmas shindig Mrs Booty and I were savouring a few alcoholic beverages when a waltz was introduced. John and Mrs John got up from the adjacent table and floated over the floor like a galleon in full sail; as they reached our table again it was like a scene from the Muppet show where Capt Link Heart-throb lets Miss Piggy "Dip." Mrs John leaned back, looked into my eyes, smiled and said, "Not bad for a dead woman am I?"

Bloody fine people, great humour, hard working and tremendous fun.