The joint 50th birthday bash of the squarrite club captain and one of the team players started at 6.15 in the salubrious surroundings of the residential home of the Yupmeister, at where else, Westbury Park. I arrived to find that someone had vandalised yuppies car by putting flags on it. I didn’t want him to be upset on his big day so I took them off and hung them to dry in his garden. News had spread that there may be a free sampling of ale, as never before had there been such a gathering of squarrites, They’d come from far and wide.
The weather had been awful and the forecast no better, but the Yupmeister with his usual magical talents arranged for the eye of the storm to hover over the area for the evening, providing for us a lovely tranquil evening with warm sunshine and clear blue skies. A perfect setting to mark the ½ century in the lives of two very special squarrites. The rear garden of the Yupmeister’s home was decked in flowers with pristine lawns and hanging baskets blooming with Joanne’s plants. There were two marquees; one of which contained the barbecuing area, which had two great boxes of real ale from Titanic Brewery and thankfully a row of gleaming John Smith’s Extra Smoothes, which glistened in the hot sunshine. The other marquee was octagonal which gave plenty of circulation room for the squarrites.
The
central table soon became filled as his family of waiters and waitresses came out with silver trays full of freshly made samosas, onion bhagies and a myriad of dips. What a banquet
to start proceedings. I have only ever witnessed such events on the TV when you get glimpses of life at the royal palace.
In all there were 22 squarrites but two were missing. Ali and baby G. The garden party continued with plenty of banter, laughter and merrymaking. Another round of samosas and bhagies were brought to the table, which were quickly quaffed down followed by more real and imaginary ale and wine.
There were plenty of photo shoots going on even to fans hanging out of bedroom windows trying to get that exclusive / elusive shot.
Then out of the blue, as the party was in full smooth flow, appeared Ali and baby G. Apparently the stage coach was
held up in neckend by a gang of hog thieves and when they finally arrived in the civilised world, the bus driver did a runner out of ‘castle station as he thought they’d been
invaded. Ali and baby G had to sit it out until an interpreter could be found to establish that they were friendly natives and to
persuade a driver to take them on. My mistake I should have arranged it with passport control. I’d have offered them a lift but Ali G had forgotten his wind up communicator. Yup
and the Brock were given signed cards of congratulations from the club, and a glass tankard inscribed with ‘50’ for Yup for all his efforts in providing yearlong entertainment
and services to the lads, squarry club, King, Queen and Country. This was followed by thank you’s and a speech from Yupmeister, who accustomed as he is to speaking, kept it
fairly short by thanking everyone for coming, some near (very near), some far (neckend) but a special thanks goes to Dave Sahu who came from India.
It was getting time for departure to pastures new and Ali and baby G just had time to finish the two remaining bahgies whilst the flagons were filled with the remnants of real ale to take us onto the curry house. I managed to load Brockie with the bounty including the remains of the John Smith’s Extra Smooth. It was his do after all. Many thanks to Mrs.Yupmeister and their offspring for their hospitality and efforts. Shame about the dancing girls. We departed, 24 squarrites onward slipping one by one through the hole in the hedge, to find the elusive Balti. The Beardie boys tried to find it a couple of years previous but sniffer Scottie had other things in mind. I was hoping for transportation at this stage but Yup was still into his marathon walking and decided to show us what he could do by setting the pace followed by a dad’s convention (ask Yup about that one). It wasn’t such a bad walk through the avenues and alleyways. (I think I feel a song coming on). We were soon there but Mr Brockie had one arm longer than the other through the weight of the real ale flagons and the John Smith’s extra smooth. I warned him to swap arms on route, I could see it coming but that’s not unusual for me.
We arrived at the Rose, a nice little place set in the picturesque surroundings of a council housing estate and shops. Yup positioned himself at the counter and counted the lads in, making sure they all had a seat which they did except……Yup. Somebody suggested he had a takeaway, but room was found at the end of a table near the window. There was one table occupied by a small family group hoping for a quiet intimate meal. ‘What’s going on?’ was heard as we descended to take up our positions. We didn’t hear from them again. The loo proved to be much in demand, good job Craigee baby wasn’t there or we would all have been in trouble. We ordered the food and I became a little concerned that I had no red wine. An essential part of the dining experience for me. I went to the Yupmeister asking where I could get some and with a wave of his arm a troop of natives hurried through the kitchen door with their arms full of a multitude of reds from all over the globe. Magic! My night was nearly complete. I thought I’d wait ‘till later to say I’d forgotten to bring some tasty tarts. Thank you Yup and Paul for all your efforts in bringing this together. Tremendous! It was a great meal.
I ventured outside a couple of times for a woodbine. It was quite a busy place providing take-a-way meals and chips for the kids to eat on the pavement outside. I even got to meet one of my neighbours, a tasty little tart from a few streets away, who had offered me a glass of red as I passed her house on my evening constitutional. Well enough of that. That could be another story. (I failed to impress tonight though, when she realised the bright yellow Stilo belonged to me, and no, she didn’t want one free with her takeaway).
A debate followed as to whether we went to the Seabridge pub or directly to the hub of where it’s happening. Yes, you can guess, flagons and wine bottles emptied, and bellies full, we moved on to the Seabridge. What a lively place that was! Makes the neckend Blue Bell look like a night club (or perhaps not!). As could be predicted, the clientele consisted of old men and women playing dominoes and the like. Nothing wrong with that, but we were on a 50th do, not an 80th ! We moved outside where we admired a very nice Rover that a kindly old gent had parked up. We were then treated to a mesmerising display of driving, unmatched by anyone living, once he had found reverse. He sped quickly away with echoes of advice as to where he could stick his flags. News broke of the French defeat at the hands of the Czechs and Ali G toasted them by pouring his Stella Artpiss down a handy grid.
It was now time to venture into the bright lights of ‘Castle. A fleet of Rosevilles arrived to take us onward into the night. Have we used these before I hear you cry? Yes they are the ones that broke down on last year’s Mystery night. They’re booked for the next one so no mystery this time. I offered to further baby G’s education by showing him the hot spots of Castle but his dad went white at the prospect and quickly pushed him into one of the Rosevilles and whisked him back to Neckend.
The fleet arrived in the Ironmarket and John C and D’seen made a dash for the Reflex bar, which was full of young tarts. We were now somewhat depleted in numbers but our hosts, Scottie, Richie, Trig and myself carried on the merrymaking. From there it was the full moon, Brown Jug and finally Brassingtons at the other end of town. John C and D’seen had left the Reflex bar early, as their blood pressures were getting a bit high. We should have met in the full moon but age had obviously caught up and they were not seen again. In Brassingtons, Richie had bumped into a young lady and was chatting away merrily then, to our amazement, he left the pub with her. Scotties cries of ‘she looks well up for it’ could well have been right except that Rich in his gentlemanly manner had taken her straight home without even considering that he lived in a bachelor pad. Rumour has it that he has been seen out with her since.
It was now getting a bit late and the Yupmeister departed continuing his marathon walking back to Westbury. Scottie and myself apparently managed to highjack a taxi from the clinches of Trig and Paul. You should have made use of your longer arm Paul. It was now around 2.30am and a great time had been had by one and all. Thanks again to the Yupmeister and Brockie.