Great Scott Friday 13th Nantwich
Up
for it were
Yup,
Pedro, Lionel Richee, Craigee, Granpop Bill, Keithees up for it, DCeen, McCeen,
Ax, Scott free and Hugemungous
The
usual bubbly Kev and his ten seater minibus was ordered for this trip, picking
up at Penkhull and the Westbury. It
didn’t take long for his fixed grin to waiver as he realised his mission was to
drop us off at Aston, and not Nantwich town centre, a further 6 miles. He was obviously stressed out as Yup later revealed
his previous text requests to him and he acknowledged the error of his ways.
His
sat nav couldn’t detect Burtpore, or Bertpoor or anywhere similar, so I wouldn’t
bother buying one if I were you; they’re useless. We found a secret bunker down a country lane without
any help from his sat nav but found ourselves going the wrong way, much to
Kev’s amusement. Yup wasn’t bothered cus
he wasn’t organising tonight’s escapade.
Finally
we arrived at the Bhurtpore Inn, only to find it was shut. Now that’s never happened before! Huge arrived, having pushed his wife at
breakneck speed by car to meet us at 6pm.
McCeen also joined us by car, having experienced the Friday night mayhem
on the M6 yet again. He parked his motor
up, which he’d return to collect on Sunday, and armed with his laptop joined us
under the marquee where we waited for the pub to open at 6.30. Who was organising tonight??
There
were a few bods about sitting under the marquee in the rear garden, also
astounded that the pub wasn’t open. One
chappie was woken from his slumbers on one of the tables. He informed us that he’d already attended an
earlier beer festival at lunchtime and after his power nap was gearing himself
up for another session. Good on him!
There
was no need to rush as the big finger hit 6 and the doors finally opened, as
there were several bars inside; each with a different range of real ales
available.
Wagtail’s
‘Gold Ale’ was amongst the ales on offer along with Leatherbritches ales from
Ashbourne which we’d shortly be visiting on the autumn office walk (when Mr
Tahoohigh gets his finger out!). Their
‘4/coffee’ was a pleasant change from the usual variety. I almost sobered up drinking it. ‘On the Hug’ was spotted on the board and
Huge duly obliged.
Almost
as obliging were the pork pies which we scoffed through to line our pits. Scott-free, now a plumbing company employee,
attempted to sell us boilers and loft insulation as he struggled through 2 or
three pies smothered in mustard. ‘If
your old boiler’s letting you down, then it drops your ratings’, he informed
us. Well it would, wouldn’t it !? It was obvious that his own plumbing needed a
good seeing to as he kept dropping one, in between slurping pints of moonshine
cider at 8% and nibbling at the pork pies and mustard. Richees columbo anorak cum coat came in
useful for wafting them down wind.
Speaking
of anoraks, a real one was spotted bottling pints of ale and slipping them into
his car outside. Asked why, he said he
wanted to try as many as he could off the list.
He must have a secret bunker of ale somewhere. Ha ha, we just might know
where it is!!
As
the evening progressed, discussions naturally arose again of future events. Yup mentioned a
Ax,
alias
Granpop
Bill was looking forward to being a double granpop in 4 weeks time. In preparation he’d bought a new leather 3
piece suite which could be cleaned easier after they’d puked up on it.
At
around half eight we headed out into the rain for the 15 minute walk down the country
lanes to Wrenbury Station. There were a
couple of stops on the way for relief. A
dalek and other strange puppets adorned some of the properties, remnants of a
recent ‘summer’ fete perhaps.
As
fete had it, Craig was wist pest through by the time we got to the
station. I know it was raining Craigee
but I didn’t organise tonights do, so you can’t blame me for the bad weather!
It
was a pretty little station, with just one shelter which we huddled into. ‘What times the couch coming?’ asked Keithee,
obviously feeling weary.
The
train was spot on to the second and we were soon arriving in Nantwich. A further five minute walk and we dropped in
to the
The
meal was excellent and most cleared their plates, having avoided starters. Even the manners of all diners had
improved. At one stage DCeen politely
asked for some nan bread to be passed up to him. See it’s easy.
House
wine was rejected by some, although how you could tell the difference after
several pints and a curry?
Sambucas
and/or brandies completed the night’s festivities and the bill was settled
before sauntering outside to meet Mr Happy and his minibus.
There
were now 11 of us of course, not 10, but Kev was in a jovial mood and allowed
Yup to take up the rear wheel arch position to Shavington, where Huge would jump
out.
Down
the motorway and the bus swept into
Ooh
Betty, Scottee had left a deposit and Kev was going bolistic. Yes, Great Scott had lobbed a chuckee and Kev
chucked a wobbly. He stormed towards
Scottee, threatening to knock his head off.
‘Come on then tough man’, came the reply. Bish, bash, bosh and Kev leapt back on the
bus and sped off at lightening pace to clean up.
We
were all gob smacked, but then so was Kev.
Oh
dear, perhaps that wasn’t so great Scott.
That’s just about put an end to Happy Kev’s minibuses!! And maybe the final straw for the squarry doos
!! …… and then maybe not … Despite texts and offers to pay for the cleaning up
operation Kev refuses to reply. So ……..
to new pastures.
As
usual, the following morning was just a blur again and the realisation of the
previous night’s event slowly dawned.
Keithee
thought he’d lost his hat, his jacket and his memory, but by the following
afternoon had found all 3 of them. I’m
just glad I made notes else I wouldn’t remember a thing either.
Never
a dull moment !!
Regards
Yupmeister
(enjoy
yer baltis)