JACKOS SQUARETIREMENT DOO                    CONGLETON                29TH JUNE 2007

 

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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 Bombay mix were dished out which went down a right treat.  So well in fact that most had gone by the time Mo who, Nige (noel) and Huge arrived just ten minutes later.

 

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 D Road.  Granpop Bill rested his eyes on the back seat, still in his head of course.  Kev turned a blind ear to the pleas from Joe in the back to be dropped off at Basford Bank and continued on to Clayton.  Beardee was up and down like a jack in the box but was lost without his wand.  After he’d got off the bus it was a cha cha - come waltz to his house, taking one step forward to every two backwards.  He’d have been quicker going home in reverse.

 

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)