Tag: Pub

That Time I Drove A Brand New Tractor

On By pauljbenthamIn Photo of the Week

15 years ago | Chamberlains Farm, Shevington Moor | 27th May 2008

It’s brilliant what pub conversations can lead to, isn’t it? Fifteen years ago, I had a three year-old son and a Thursday night routine which involved going to the Hesketh Arms (now sadly no longer a pub) for last orders. A chance conversation one night led to a call out of the blue, months later, and an incredibly gracious invitation…

Thursday nights used to be quite the set piece in our house. Most weeks, we had guests round. I’d put Charlie to bed while Helen would cook tea for everyone. When he was asleep, around 8pm, we’d eat and talk. By 10:30, I used to slope off to the pub for last orders. By that time, various friends had made it there after touring a few other hostelries and there was usually a game of pool or darts in full flow.

One night, I was talking to one of them, a former pub-football-team team-mate from a farming family, asking him how things were going. He told me he’d just ordered a new tractor. I knew very well that it would be a John Deere – he was always very clear about his family’s affiliation with the brand. As I had a young son who loved tractors – when he was two, the first evidence we had that he wasn’t colour-blind was his ability to tell a Massey Ferguson [red] from a John Deere [green] – this was something I was keen to learn more about.

I learned a few things. Chiefly, that new tractors are not cheap. Which is a euphemism for ‘eye-waveringly expensive’. But, for your many tens of thousands of pounds, you do get regular updates throughout the build process, from the factory in Mannheim, Germany. “Yeah, this week, I got an email telling me they’d just built the gearbox” my friend informed me.

This became something of a running gag. “What have they built this week?”, I’d ask on subsequent Thursday nights, eliciting an update on the finer points of the developing ‘6930’ model. Eventually, the answer was “They’re delivering it in the next week or two”. It occurred to me that, to a tractor-mad three year-old there can’t be many things that are cooler than the chance to see – or maybe even sit in – a brand new tractor. “Would it be okay if I bring Charlie up to the farm when it arrives?”, I asked. “Sure, no problem!” was the reply.

That’s not what happened. One random Tuesday night, I got a phone call around tea time. The tractor had been delivered, to the dealership, and my friend was driving it home. He was wondering if we were at home as he was planning to pop in, on the way. “Yes, of course!”, I replied, with mounting excitement, looking hastily for my digital camera.

Ten minutes later, he arrived in his gleaming new John Deere and Charlie was awestruck. “Of course he can sit in it”, was the reply when I asked if it was okay to get a few photos. “You can have a drive if you want”, he then added. I wasn’t going to pass up this generous offer. The three of us squeezed into the two seats of the cab and I started up the 6.8-litre engine. A minute of brief explanation of the controls later (largely similar to those of a car), I engaged that freshly-built gearbox and we moved gingerly away.

I should point out we weren’t on a public road. Our driveway is basically a 250-metre loop road. In a car, it’s not particularly narrow – you barely notice the width. In a nearly-nine-foot-wide tractor, it suddenly felt like a footpath. With overhanging branches brushing the top of the cab, I carefully guided this brand-new 5.6-tonne monster to the end of the drive, using the ‘T’-junction section to effect a three-point turn in order to drive back. Throughout, Charlie’s face was a picture!

It was a great experience and I’m so grateful for the opportunity – I really wasn’t expecting it. Not many people would ask you if you wanted a go in their brand new car on the day they collected it, let alone this expensive, unfamiliar piece of working machinery.

The whole episode had one other happy outcome. A year later, we decided to drive around Europe (for the first time) for our family holiday. On the outward leg, we stopped at Paris and had a day at Disneyland. Coming home, two weeks later, we decided to spend a day in Mannheim – at the John Deere Visitor Centre. Guess which day our young tractor fan enjoyed more….

The view from the driver’s seat of a John Deere 6930

That Time I Finally Saw It Happen

On By pauljbenthamIn Photo of the Week

30 years ago | The Plough Inn, Galgate, Lancashire | 3rd May 1993

It was hard to be a Manchester United fan in the 1980s. It was a decade of inconsistency, frustration and under-achievement. Worse than that, the dominant team of the age was Liverpool, whose relentless accumulation of trophies further highlighted the gulf between hope and expectation. With each season, the number of years since United’s last league title (in 1967) was quoted ad nauseam by newspapers and rival fans alike. Today, you may feel the need to refer to the word’s smallest violin but that’s largely because in 1993, the counter finally stopped at 26 years…

The inaugural season of the FA Premier League had been another rollercoaster of a season. Unsurprisingly, we’d lost our first-ever game in the new competition, 2-1 at Sheffield United, with Brian Deane scoring its first goal, after five minutes.

Six weeks later, I’d started University. Having chosen Lancaster over my second choice (Salford), I knew the opportunities to get to Old Trafford would be fewer than I’d enjoyed over the previous few seasons. While I was enjoying life as a Fresher, we continued to stagger into the season, drawing five games in a row and then losing to Wimbledon and Aston Villa.

And then, before the first term was finished, we signed a misfit striker from Leeds called Eric Cantona. Even before Christmas, he’d begun to make an impact on the team. It was beginning to feel like we’d turned a corner.

Not that feelings were to be trusted. We’d finished the previous season in second place after imploding spectacularly with weeks to go. And then there was the heady 85-86 season which began with ten straight wins and ended with 16 points dropped in the last ten games. Bitter experience had shown that winning titles required more than mere excitement.

Cantona continued to galvanise the team, inspiring a crucial win at Norwich. Steve Bruce famously did the same, deep into added time, at home to Sheffield Wednesday. A midweek win at Crystal Palace meant that Aston Villa had to beat Oldham to stay in the race on the Sunday. When Oldham got an unlikely win, the wait was finally over – the title was coming back to Manchester.

On Sky’s Monday Night Football, the match at home to Blackburn became the coronation of the first-ever Premier League champions. Kevin Gallagher threatened to dampen the party by scoring for the visitors before goals from Giggs, Ince and – improbably – a Gary Pallister free kick made it 3-1 to United.

I was watching with friends at the Plough Inn in Galgate, a short walk from Lancaster University. At the final whistle, it was a scene of celebrating United fans finally exorcising the ghosts of Charlton, Law and Best. For many, like me, the wilderness years had extended well beyond their lifetime.

As Bruce and Robson lifted the trophy, we witnessed the genial smile of an octogenarian Matt Busby and knew that, truly, the flame of greatness had been passed. For as long as I could remember before that point, I had supported a team, that weren’t the best in England. Now, finally, the pecking order had changed…

TV footage of joint captains Steve Bruce and Bryan Robson lifting the inaugural Premier League trophy after a 3-1 victory over Blackburn Rovers in a carnival atmosphere at Old Trafford

That Time I Discovered The Drunken Duck

On By pauljbenthamIn Photo of the WeekLeave a comment

30 years ago | Drunken Duck Inn, Barngates, Cumbria | 9th April 1993

In our first year at University, a few of us decided to meet up in the Lake District over the Easter weekend.  We arrived at the campsite at Low Wray, on the north-western shore of Windermere and set up our tents.

With everyone having assembled by around tea-time on the Maundy Thursday, there was nothing else left to do but go to the pub.  But where was it?

Fortunately, someone had spotted a small sign pointing up the hill about a mile and.a half back down the road to the site.  That was good enough for us, so off we wandered, hoping it wouldn’t be too much further from the sign.

Not only was it almost another mile further on but the rest of the walk was a steep incline, climbing for over 300 feet.  We were all starting to work up a thirst.  Hopefully, this place would be worth the effort required to get there.

Was it ever!  We arrived at a charming pub called the Drunken Duck Inn, ordered a round of Old Peculiers and sat outside, around the bench tables across the road.  In the mild spring sunshine, we chatted and ate and drank as the evening wore on.  Through nothing but pure luck, it just became one of those magical nights when all the elements were perfect.  

Not only did we go back the next night but we were there the next year as well, each time expecting the experience couldn’t possibly measure up to that mythical first night.  Every time, we were pleasantly surprised that it did.  The place seemed to be enchanted, as if it could only be accessed from the outside world via a portal.

I’ve been back a few times since then, over the years – I even bought the T-shirt  on one visit.  It’s gone a little more gentrified in recent times but at least it’s still there, still legendary.  One day I’ll go again and when I do, I’ll sit at those bench tables across the road.

The view towards Ambleside from the bench tables at the Drunken Duck. Photo: Paul Bentham

That Time I Woke Up In A Snowstorm

On By pauljbenthamIn Photo of the WeekLeave a comment

15 years ago | Great Langdale Campsite, Langdale Valley, Cumbria | 22nd March 2008

From my first year at University, it became something of a tradition for us to go camping in the Lake District over the Easter Weekend.  More on that in weeks to come but in 2008, fifteen years after our first camping weekend, we decided to resurrect the old tradition….

There are two things you need to know here: 

1, we were no longer students and 

2, that year, Easter was about as early as it’s possible to be.

If I remember correctly, one reason for the Easter reunion that year was the impending nuptials of one of our number.  Most of the rest of us had already been married off and/or produced offspring.  In my own case, with a three-and-a-half year-old by then, it was a very rare opportunity for a night out.

Unlike our first-ever Easter camping weekend, we were reasonably well-prepared.  The standard of tents, sleeping bags and other equipment reflected that we’d all become better-funded than in our student days.

Just like our first-ever camping weekend, we did as little camping stuff as possible and disappeared to the nearest pub – in this case, the Hikers’ Bar at the Old Dungeon Ghyll Hotel, I think.  And there the evening unfolded as planned, and all was well.

The next morning, I awoke to one of the worst hangovers I can remember.  It was made many times worse by the fact that when I opened the tent for some fresh air, I discovered it was actually snowing.

The best thing to do was get out of the tent, sit in the car, with the engine and heating on and nurse the half-bottle of Fanta that I had until such point that I was able to function again.

What felt like weeks later, I became marginally less sickly and 100% more legal to drive.  There was nothing else to do but say “we must do this again”* and limp home to groan on the coach and elicit very little sympathy.  Good times!

* We’ve never done this again.

Happier times. The campsite before the night out and the snowfall. Photo: Paul Bentham

The Forester’s Needs You!

On By pauljbenthamIn Something to Say...

Without prejudice.

44475389_565954213836552_2111173384594259968_oI was saddened to read this post from our local pub, earlier today. I don’t know what happened but I have no reason to disbelieve the account given. I also know that in the year or so that Gareth has run the pub, he has returned it to its former glory, making it a place you want to visit, rather than just put up with going to. I was sure he’d make a success of the place when his first act was to re-instate its traditional name after the sacrilege that was ‘The Silver Tally’.

Anyway, It’s a lovely pub these days with a good beer selection and a wide choice of good food that’s very reasonably priced. Now, with staff reportedly out of pocket, it needs your help to trade its way out of the fate that has befallen it. With the weekend upon us, why not go there for a meal and see if you agree with my recommendation? If you can’t make it this weekend, there’s always another chance to go to a pub!

We happened to go there for a meal last night, for the first time in a while, and had no idea they were facing this awful situation. Needless to say, we won’t leave it as long before we go back. I hope this setback is short-lived and that, in the longer term, the change of structure becomes a change for the better for all concerned.

Good luck to Gareth, Minnie (the Rottweiler) and the rest of the team as you make The Foresters such an asset to our local community. Let’s hope the wider community can do their bit to increase its value to the surrounding area!

Vist The Foresters’ website