JACKOS SQUARETIREMENT DOO CONGLETON 29TH
JUNE 2007
Up for
it were:
Yup,
JayCee, DCeen, McCeen, Granpop Bill, Granpop Malc, Spikelette, Brockie, Beardee,
Matt ‘Silver Bear’, Craigee 50/50, Keithee’s up for it, Nige (noel), Mo Who,
Huge, Richee, Dasher, Mr Tahoohigh and Pedro; oh and Jacko of course.
The heavy
mantle of sorting the minibus out had been passed from Yuppy onto Spikelette
during the preceding week and the promising prospect of all going to plan was
plain to see as the bus arrived some ten minutes early at the Westbury, giving
JayCee no time to finish his half pint of diet lager. ‘Don’t go up the M6’ shouted McCeen who had
just made it himself through the southbound traffic. Experienced Kev took no
notice and headed up the A500 as planned towards Congleton. It was only as we were nearly through
Congleton that we realised that he hadn’t been given the destination address! Keithee directed him back in a westerly
direction but missed Jacko’s road by some 500yards. Who needs the sat navs?
The
forecast had once again proved spot on for the lucky squarrites, with blue
skies and a bright sun. At the top of
the garden under strategically placed trees Jacko had earlier fought solo with
a huge gazebo, within which beer and more beer could be seen waiting for us; a
100 pints of Bear skinfull and Kodiac Gold from the Beartown brewery. Disco lights had also been hung from the
rafters.
With a mighty
clout the cask was tapped by Jacko and was ready to pull. Just in case, Richee crouched underneath the
tap to catch any surplus drips. Bill
innocently announced that the last time he’d had a handpull was at Audley. Too much information there granpop.
Mr
Tahoohigh pulled himself together and joined the queue for a fore skin full as
he nicknamed it. A bottle of lemonade
was hailed and Dasher’s half was duly topped up.
Pork pies, nuts
and
Beardee
made his way over onto one of the wooden chairs and settled down (after mastering
the arm positions) into an in-tents discussion about trees, nature and the
countryside which surrounded Jacko’s house.
Intrigued, and being a townie, he headed out through the gate in the
hedge to view the adjacent barley field ablaze in the sunshine. Yup ferried a chair out to him and he sat in
the warm sun listening to the tales, and ears, of barley production and its
many uses. Craigee discretely attempted
to water the barley field but surprisingly only managed one small area. This is not how barley water is produced of
course. Ten minutes later and there were
hundreds of squarrites soaking up the sun next to the barley field.
It was a
cracking night and as usual the time just flew by. There was just time to slip to the official toilet
room for some, before being kindly ferried in cars to the Indian in Congleton. Having mastered the chair earlier, Beardee
was on a roll; until he was heard screaming from the toilet after locking
himself in. Oh dear.
The Bon O
Phool was only 5 minutes away. Luckily for
the natives, we were ushered upstairs into a self contained room. Kingfishers, Cobras and pappodoms were set up
along with the obligatory bottles of house wine; and the sweating over the
menus began as we decided on our orders.
Of course a few starters were ordered by the unruly minority (they won’t
listen) and before long the table was awash with starters of every
description. ‘I want it now’ growled
DCeen, (his umpteenth anger management refresher course had yet to be booked,
once a brave enough tutor could be found), as his starter was ferried up to the
wrong end of the table. The main courses
arrived and probably more bottles of wine.
Craigee, overjoyed that he’d made the short journey without getting
caught short, began eating Silver Bear’s curry off the hotplate, unnoticed
until Silver Bear quizzed him. Over-faced,
most of the main courses were left. I
keep telling you…..
That extra
glass of wine tipped Joe off his seat, so he sat on Beardee’s knee for
stability and started kissing him. There
were no tongues thankfully. Beardee said,
‘If you were a woman, I’d have ****** you by now!’
It somehow seemed
a good time to toast our host for the night, Jacko, which was followed by a hearty
rendition of ‘for he’s a jolly good fellow’.
Somehow the
bill was sorted out by Keithee following the discovery of a shortfall; not for
the first time. We made our way outside
with Joe and Beardee supporting each other, ably assisted by Keithee.
Good luck
wishes were made as the party night came to an end with the minibus heading
south back towards Stoke, and Mo Who, Nige, Jacko and Keithee driving home or
receiving lifts.
The minibus
hurtled on down the A34, where the Silver Bear bolted, before continuing onto
the
There were
a few lost memories again by many and hours of lost time on the Saturday as the
bodies recovered. Brockies body never
recovered and a meal out on his birthday had to be postponed. Joe could recall getting off the bus somewhere
with the assistance of Pedro, before his wife Karen picked them both up in the
car. Pedro was dropped off in the
Westlands where Joe also jumped out until he was dragged back into the car by
Karen and taken home. He was dressed for
bed and pointed up the wooden hills after drinking copious amounts of water. Jacko prepared himself for yet another night
of drinking on the Saturday night. Now
how difficult is that?
Many thanks
go to Jacko for his hospitality and we wish you all the very best in your
retirement from Stoke. Of course you
haven’t retired from the Squarry Club and we hope to see you very soon if not
before.
Cheers for
now,
Yupmeister
(enjoy yer
baltis)