Autumn Walk 13th October 2006
Down at the Old Bull and Bush
Up for it were Jacko, Keithee, Yup, Mid-week Tone, Mr Tahoohigh, Spiklett, Zolett and Gerbel, JayCee and Pedro. Tiny Tim and JayN (Thingy) met up with us at the start. Mo was excused with a bug.
It was an early start for most, leaving the Westbury at 7am. Darren, the supreme minibus driver, was using his ‘nat sav’ for the first time. No-one amongst us could work it or pronounce sat nav so he fathomed it out himself and punched in Himley, nr Dudley. It seemed to work as we headed down the motorway through the mist and seemingly in the right direction. Each time we approached a speed camera it emitted an ever increasing number of beeps, interfering with the league cup final from 1972 which we were all glued to. (except for Pedro)
The sat nav had done it’s job and we touched down in Himley at 8o’clock prompt, not quite where we were supposed to be starting off from, but within a couple of a hundred yards or so. Following a group photee we set off walking in a northerly direction at 8.25am along the railway walk from the car park. This was a straight forward start to the walk after which we entered a housing site and dropped down onto a towpath. The first hurdle of finding a route off the towpath was tricky but two nice old ladies speaking in some weird dialect which we couldn’t understand kindly offered their advice, but eventually we found our own way off, across the fields and into the country. We were buzzing now, or was it the power lines above us, and we continued buzzing through Trysull, past the church and its other quaint buildings.
Amazingly we stopped for breakfast at 10.10am in the shadow of an England flag at Seisdon. A sign to Kinver prompted the discussion about a possible walk along Kinver Edge next year. JayN’s suggestion was acknowledged by Yup who made a note in his diary.
Down the Staffordshire Way and heading south to Smestow, 2 bangs took us by surprise. JayN spotted a tree trunk, reminding him of ‘The Thing’ a 1960’s fictional film, and instantly inherited a possible new nick name. After a short stint down the Monarch Way to Swindon we pulled in at The Old Bush about an hour ahead of schedule.
Eager to check out the hand pull we were dismayed to find the ‘Hobgoblin’ had only just been put on and hadn’t settled, so we had no alternative but to try the Banks’s Original or Bitter. The first black mark for Mark Steffan who had pieced the walk together so well and at such short notice and had included a listing of the number of hand pulls at each pub. As we discovered later, it would have been of more benefit if we’d got the number of handpulls that were actually in use… but who’s complaining?
The charming gent waiting on, who had come in specially to assist, was a jovial sort and he took the ‘home-made’ food orders efficiently as we necked a couple of pints of Banks’s. It appeared that the food was prepared too quickly for some as Tottering Tone made his way to the dining area.
Jay Cee, Tiny Tims and Josephee’s meals were the last to be dished out. The waiter apologised for the delays as they were waiting for the pastry crust to brown on the pies. This was difficult to swallow for JayCee as he’d ordered Cajun Chicken!! Not deterred they also plumbed for the puddings after whilst the rest waited and supped another half. Joe’s only teeny weeny criticism if he had to give one, was the shortage of custard on his pud.
Yup had suggested that puddings be ordered at the next pub but it was too late, Jacko had been too eager and had not only ended up burning his tongue but had ended up with spotted dick.
Next on the itinery was the Old Bull. Markus Stephano had noted that it had got 3 hand-pulls, and so without hesitation Mid-week Tone ran up to the entrance without a totter and beckoned everyone in. Alas….no other customers, and no cask ales what so ever…aahhhh. The empty car park should have given it away.
Heads dropped, but we set off again knowing that the Crooked House would surely be on fine fettle. If only we could find it!! We followed the old railway cutting down to Oakfarm and past the clay pit. It should be here somewhere!!! Up and past the landfill site and the rubbish strewn amongst the verges and hedgerows we arrived at a junction on the Dudley Road; and a large sign indicating the presence of the Crooked House. But in which direction?? Spikelett rang the pub and confirmed we’d missed the turn back down the lane. Never, what an approach to the pub!! Finally we’d found it. Giblett’s knees were knackered and he was glad of the rest.
A din of garage music welcomed us as we approached the pub, blasting out from the cockpit of a souped up astra parked next to the entrance. The young lads were enjoying their selves though and knocking back the cider without a care in the world.
The crooked house is a remarkable building with only the grandfather clock apparently being the only item that’s vertical. It’s history was read out by Josephee but Zolette took over as we were all dropping off. The tale of a ghost putting the willies up customers near the ladies toilets drew gasps from some quarters.
Demonstrations of the defiance of gravity took place in the bar using the golf balls found in the golf course we’d crossed earlier. The specific gravity of the ales however remained the same as the Old Bush…Banks’s original and Bitter…..No guest beers!!!
So it was time to move on. JayN was eager to miss out on the highlight, Himley Hall and the lakes, as he was on a promise at 7pm, but was unfortunately persuaded to hang on with the rest and check it out.
Before we could set off we just had to wait for JayCee who had just ordered more beer. What’s more, he’d paid for it but the barrel had now got to be changed. Still, he proved he’s not a wimp by downing his pint in barely 10 minutes or so. We left the same way as we’d arrived, back up the lane past the landfill site. If only we’d listened to Jacko who had still got his bearings.
We soon entered the country park and passed its cress beds and bmx scrambling areas, lakes and Hall, before dropping in to the Dudley’s Arms for half an hour before being picked up by Nat Sav Darren.
In the minibus Pedro sat at the front cus he was last out of the Dudleys Arms. Luckily he didn’t have to endure the Bobby Moore story on the tv screen, but instead had to listen to Darren, the no 1 footy fan, who gave him the history of footy back to the 1960’s. Pedro was heard to say he didn’t do football. JayCee shouted that the balls are round but he feigned deafness as he usually does when he hears the word ‘round’ and quickly went into Peter Kay mode, asking ‘Bin busy?’ and ‘what time yer on till?’, and pointing out the chevrons on the roundabouts.
There were one or two tired Keiths, nodding on the second row, but they had been up earlier than most.
A very pleasant day out and yet again we were blessed with good weather.
Here’s to Stafford Castle at Christmas and some decent ale
Regards
Yupmeister