A saunter down the canal and we were in The Malthouse. Smooth and Bombardier were up for grabs. Most of us avoided the smooth, except one. Well look what it does to your teeth!! Al Frash
186 Ladypool Road. Birmingham
Tel 0121 753 3120
Wed (yes mid week!) 25th August 2004
Up for it:
Yupmeister, Beardie (Smoothy), Rich (Fred Astaire), Bill (Grandpop) Tab, Jay (Cee Woller), Dave (Sleepy) Byrne and D C’een.
Downers:
Keith (I’m almost on for it), Scottie (the bachelor, shortly to be under the thumb), 50/50 Craigee who had got a poorly foot, aaahhhh, (must have danced
in Richie’s dancing shoes the week before), Dave Sahu, (hedgecutter extrordinaire), and the mid weaker Tone.
This venture took some hammering before it even got off the ground. Warnings were being made of the
inefficiencies of our wonderful British train service as arrangements were being put together and that buses were being laid on whilst line upgrading works were being carried out. Weather warnings and concerns of possible thunderous rain showers in some areas, were the major talking points in some quarters until the
Yupmeister quelled any worries by ordering warm sunshine for the afternoon. Not only that, but a special virgin had been especially
ordered by Beardie, and we weren’t going to let her down. Despite his manic last minute apprehensions over the weather, Beardie
joined us in a dash to the station under his umbrella, where, lo and behold, the sun began to emerge, reflecting vividly off what appeared at first to be a yellow fiat approaching
the platform, but thankfully was soon recognised as our virgin. A couple of flags might have added the finishing touch to its
appearance maybe.
The run to Brum was as smooth as silk, and we were on track. No more clicketty clacketting like in the olden
days that someone amongst us recollected. Speaking of whom, Jaycee was lingering on the platform at Stafford where he jumped aboard,
and somehow managed to find us in coach C, despite everyone hiding under their seats. Evidently, it was new member Dave (Sleepy) Byrne
from the IT group who gave us away with his bouts of snoring.
As we gathered at the station in Brum, D C’een appeared out of nowhere, after doing only a half days work again. Beardie went missing at this point. There’s almost always somebody who goes missing at a railway station. His excuse of finding a cash machine
didn’t convince us. The cctv cameras may reveal the true story.
First stop was the Old Joint Stock pub, next to the Portman B Soc.
A snippet of it’s history, as requested, for those of you interested: (Built in 1864, this grade two listed
building was designed by local architect, Julius Alfred Chatwin, best known as the builder of many Victorian churches. Prior to being taken over by Lloyds Bank in 1889 it was the
Birmingham Joint Stock Bank. It opened as one of Fuller’s prime outlets in 1997). Now, the
former bank manager’s office is the Club Room and the former assistant manager’s office is the gent’s toilet)
How do you spell snoring sounds? Ughhh uuggghhh, snort snort. Never
mind, back to reality:-
Young Bill had become a granddad on Tuesday, almost to a zit, Zoe Isabelle Tabbernor. Luckily he had
managed to persuade the parents to change her middle name in time before they registered the birth. What luck! So, wetting the babies head Bill began at one end of the bar on the old Cheswick bitter, (a dry bitter evidently) and moved gradually along
the bar trying each one out in turn; Chasewater, Summer ale and Bombardier.
A bite to keep us going followed by a show of hands and we voted to move on to the canal.
An art exhibition was on display near the town hall, and will be till the end of September. All the pictures
were from a Birds Eye view, or from what could be described by some, as from a pole position. Jaycee went missing (what a surprise)
outside Wetherspoons. Was he perhaps trying a crafty Fox’s Nob or was he having a crafty one?
Rejoined, we entered the ICC and quickly formed a queue in the toilettes. What a picture the line up would have
been.
Over the canal and the ‘All Bar One’ pub/bar lured us into its lair. The cheapest ale? was the ‘Leffe’
at £1.80 a half. So, Leffes it was, in halves. At least it was 6.6% so we didn’t feel
too cheated, ‘Sitting outside in the sunshine by the canal’, Beardie’s umbrella, at last, came in useful as a wasp starting
buzzing around.
Jay C Woller struggled with his Leffe which admittedly was looking a little iffy by this time. He was urged on
to take one more gulp to get past the bulbous part, (of his glass), ‘take a big gulp John’ we shouted, and finally……...
A saunter down the canal and we were in The Malthouse. Smooth and Bombardier were up for grabs. Most of us avoided the smooth, except one. Well look what it does to your teeth!!
Admiring the skills of the sailors turning their bargees around in the sunshine
with the Sea Life Centre in the background we could certainly see life here and were reluctant to move on. Beardie suggested the Sea Life Centre might be a lap dancing club
but we weren’t fooled.
A wasp, well a pigeon really, swooped low and nearly took Rich off his balance. Luckily his dancing skills
didn’t let him down and he shimmed to avoid it.
Sweltering in the sunshine and blinded by the light, it was time to move on.
We were reminded at this point that earlier in the office, we had considered the 2 options available to us. Would
we prefer to be sitting in a warm comfy office or walking around a dismal Birmingham town centre in the rain. Mmmhhhh
Meandering swiftly back down the canal to the Wetherspoons in Broad Street, we managed to keep in rhythm with a rumba, led by our one and only, cum dancing
maestro.
Settling in, Bill couldn’t remember what day it was. Was it one or two days since he had become a grand pop?? While Bill was getting his memory back in gear, I slipped in and out a couple of times, unnoticed, just like SAS lovers do, and found the
taxi rank.
5 minutes later and we were in the triangle. Rich waltzed off for some bottles of wine from an offie 300 miles
down the road who char char - ged him a fortune.
The meals were excellent. Bill reckons it was the best he’d had since becoming a granddad. The nan breads weren’t like dustbin lids but
were wonderful anyway, particularly the peshwaris, which were coated in honey.
A 5 minute taxi run back to the station and it was ‘find the platform’ time. Our train was the only one
being displayed without a platform, typical. Perhaps it was 13 ¾ after all. Sleepy B tried to fall asleep again on the train but taunts from Rich over the lack
of assistance from it support groups kept him awake.
Jumping off at Stoke I’d left my brolly, or was it a magic wand? on the seat, and had to make a swift dash to retrieve it.
I could have ended up in Scotland, where it was chucking it down.
Regards
Indian Ratings:
Service ****
Quality of food ****
Cost *****
Size of nans ***
Cleanliness ***