Mystified      11th December 2008 

 

31 were up for it;

Yupmeister, Mid Week Tone, Pedro, Richee-Lionel, Granpop Bill, Keithee's up for it, Stubbee, JayCee, Dasher, Malc Jay, Craigee 50/50, DCeen, McCeen, Spikelett, Ax / Wilton (Chris Rushton), Mr Tahoohigh, Heavy Steve Machine, Scottee Free, Brockee, Jacko, Triglett, Mo who, Rob Sparklette, Matt Silver Bear, Matt Nice one, Lance, Marky, Stew art, Moonbeam, Nige  (Noel), John,  with Dan the man failing to appear for the second year running.

 

 

Beginning with a presentation by Mid week Tone to Yup for his efforts throughout the year, (many thanks chaps), this year’s mystery unfolded with Ronnie taking the reins and setting off from the Westbury at 5.15, having previously collected some of the rabble at Stoke and Penkhull.  Heading off in an easterly direction, Heavy Steve Machine and one or two other squarrites smugly cheered at the prospect of becoming this year’s No bell Prize winner.  If only they’d heeded the numerous red herring warnings.  Groans from the rest died down as the haunting mystery tour music began in the background and the excitement increased.

 

Around 20 minutes later Ronnie dropped down off the A50 into Blythe Bridge, slowing down at the welcoming warmly lit Isaac Walton, (site of a red herring photo), but only to continue past and on to an deceptively lit Hunter at Creswell.  The Hunter had been the CAMRA pub of the month back in July, but had ‘mysteriously’ closed down the following month, putting a squarrite visit into jeopardy.  Fortunately it had re-opened by kind permission of the Titanic Brewery in November and a selection of Titanic pictures, including miss whiplash and miss luscious, I know them well, adorned the walls.  Arrangements had been made with Titanic director, Dave Bott, to provide their own specialist pork pies, spuds-u-like, and sandwiches, just to put a lining on our stomachs ahead of a drinking bout.  Ronnie proceeded to put 2 or 3 linings on his stomach, just in case he never got a curry.  As if !

 

The first pint was included in the trip and the Bishops Farewell and Titanic Iceberg, which had been bought in as requested, produced a huge smile on Mr Tahoohigh’s face, who could quite happily have settled in for the night.  Not a bad idea in hind sight.  An hour on the clock, and several linings donned later, we were back on the bus and heading back to the A50 and on to The Vernon Young at Sudbury, home of the National Trust Museum of Childhood based at Sudbury Hall.  Quite apt for us lot.

 

Landlord, Mike O’Connell, had made arrangements for Golden Pippin to be set up for us, and complimented the ales with yet another tray of sandwiches.  How many more linings we could fit in was of great concern.

 

The Vernon, incidentally, is worthy of a visit in the summer, with plentiful seating in a huge beer garden.  The inside is set on different levels, with steps providing seating for Dasher and the lads to rest their loins.  The crest of arms, which couldn’t be seen in the darkness, was high on the front of the pub, underwritten with ‘Vernon simper Viret’ translating to ‘Vernon always flourishes’.  Vernon of course was Sir John Vernon of Sudbury.  An easy clue !!

 

Around 8ish, Spikelet was given the nod to issue the rounding up whistle to call the clan back onto the coach for the ‘No bell’ award.  Heavy Steve was put out of his misery and awarded the red herring award, having fallen foul of several clues taken from The Green Man at Milwich, which had been considered both this year and last year.  Clues included the red bell behind the bar and breakfast tele ie GM tv.  Too far fetched??

 

The top prize this year fell yet again to a chilli draw from the balti dish by Ronnie.  The 2 finalists, Scottee and Malc, took a deep breath as the chilli was drawn, with Scottee taking the £15 first prize.  Not bad considering Richee had chosen Uttoxeter on his behalf.

 

The engine revved up and we were off to the undisclosed indian.  We slipped into Tutbury, up the high street and stopped outside the Mughal.  An impressive entrance with murals (one of the clues) adorning the walls, and a river running along the floor, literally.  High hopes soon sank, as we were informed that they’d suffered a water burst, resulting in no heating; the central fountain being out of commission, and water seeped from under the floor.  A ‘wet floor’ sign did little to avoid the slipping and sliding as we made our way to the top table, realising why there was no-one else in the restaurant.

 

The food orders were passed to Asif, the restaurant manager, as we took our seats.  As the popodoms began to emerge from the kitchens, Asif approached, apologising for the non-availability of salmon for Heavy Steve’s salmon balti.  It wasn’t to be Heavy’s night.

 

The cobras flowed, unlike the fountain, and Keithee began to order the wine.  ‘A bottle of your finest no 18’, was served and was immediately given a flat zero out of ten by Triglette.  ‘We’ll have a no 21 instead then’, requested Keithee, but unfortunately they had run out. In fact they’d run out of all wine and only had the ‘acrid’ bottle of no 18 which was bought back to the table.

 

There was a long wait as we patiently waited for the mixed starters which eventually trickled out in dribs and drabs.  Several trips were attempted to the toilets, where the ‘checked every half an hour’ board was last signed off in 1752 by Sir John Vernon of Sudbury.  Lionel gave outstanding dancing displays each time he sought the gents with what looked like a cross between a samba and a passa doble as he traversed the lake in the middle of the dance floor.  The fountain itself was completely bone dry with remnants of Heavy Steve’s salmon encrusted on the inside where it had once swam happily with its brother Nemo and some red herrings.

 

Yup called the troops to order and began the awards ceremony, with a Lord Charles look-a–like Moonbeam assisting with the presentations.  ‘Silly ass’ he muttered from time to time, and ‘Where’s me gottle of gear?’

 

Yup began with a welcome to the youngsters on the tables and the far too many to mention owduns, along with Stew-Art who was joining us for the first time before emigrating to another country where it always rains and they don’t sell beer. Why?

 

The ‘Most memorable trip’ award went to DCeen for not getting shirty with JayCee when he threw his beer over his six packs in Nottingham.  The ‘Brewery trip of the year’ award went to Mr Tahoohigh with a proviso that he stays around for the next 6 years to conjure up some more brewery trips.  Richee was awarded the ‘I haven’t got a clue where we are, youth’ award for directing the group in Milan; and ‘Nurse of the year’ went to Florence 50/50 for helping to seal a few leaks in Yup as he lay helpless on a bed in Bookarest. 

 

One final ‘booby’ prize, the ‘Last to pay’ award was given to John Hotdog Howard amid a hail of boos and hisses, before Yuppy presented some research figures regarding the clubs history.  Of note was the fact that the squarry club had began in 1990, and that 2010 would therefore be a special anniversary mystery event.  By his calculations approximately 216 squarry nights had taken place so far, with around 432 popodoms being eaten by each person and 1 chicken chat being eaten by Pedro.  Around 648 pints had been quaffed by each person, with Keithee drinking around 216 bottles of red wine, purely on his own (of course).

 

A squarry shirt, a fitting tribute, was presented to life long member Mo Who, who gave an emotional farewell speech to his ‘family’ as he confirmed he was emigrating to New Zealand in January.  A future squarry do to NZ was now on the cards.

 

All we needed now was a great curry to finish the evening off.  Granpop Bill, amongst others, had saved himself, refusing to nibble any pork pies or butties offered at the pubs.  The eight pints of ale were superfluous.  Patience began to wear thin as an eternity passed before the first few meals were bought out and placed on an adjacent table to chill before being distributed.  Some of the rices were handed out and several other dishes passed around haphazardly in an attempt to appease us.  Ronnie attempted to break open a portion of frozen rice he’d found and others ate their curries without rice.  In all, the service was atrocious and by far the worst ever Indian experienced by the squarry club.  We didn’t wait for coffees and began a titanic struggle to settle the bill.  A bill of several hundred was instantly dismissed and eventually a fiver a head was accepted as a take it or leave it final offer to cover everything. 

 

There was a mad rush to the local chippie which shut its door when it saw Nige (noel) approaching.  Silver Bear suddenly gained several drooling best buddies until a local pub came into sight offering a chance to catch a final night cap, or two.

 

George Formby entertained on the return leg home, or was it a Col Surry cd?  It had been a night of entertainment from beginning to end, and one which we would never forget; and the cost at a fiver was one of the cheapest and best value Christmas mystery nights ever experienced.

 

Anyone free to organise next years??

 

Yours as ever

Yupmeister

(enjoy yer baltis ………….. If you get one)