"Ale Tales" drabbles by Neville Hunt

Draining training

Ale Tales #4

It was restricted membership. 14 members only for our village Rugby Club. That meant we could only train, never play, because playing required 15 men. I became #14, when someone moved far away.

In order to be continually match-fit, training sessions were held weekly. A poor club, we couldn’t afford a training room so we met at The White Horse every Wednesday. It was thirsty work. The landlord always kept a huge jar of pickled eggs in case Big Dave needed an energy boost.

Turnout was usually good, but when all 14 turned up, it was a helluva scrum!

Late arrivals

Ale Tales #3

My daughter was overdue and my wife was so very pregnant that she had to stay in bed. She’d had a few contractions, so I called Steve who’d offered to stay the night and babysit the boys. The contractions were quite infrequent, so Steve and I decided to go for a pint. We didn't like the nearest pubs, so drove to our favourite real ale pub, several miles away.

Somehow we both forgot about the impending birth, returning at closing time. Mrs H was panicking... waters had broken, contractions every minute.

Only the hospital’s close proximity saved me playing midwife.

Exercising restraint 🍻

Ale Tales #2

Every Sunday, me, Steve, wives and kids went for a walk across the common. A good healthy thing to do and a positive example for the children. The children had fun and played running games. Terrific exercise for growing lads and lasses. The reward for the long walk was a soft drink at the Three Horseshoes, outside in the cold. Me and Steve were allowed a single pint before the long walk back.

Every Monday, the children wrote their news about the weekend. Every Monday the same...

“We went to the pub.”

Strange looks and red faces at Parents’ Evenings!

The ‘real’ attraction 🍺

Ale Tales #1

The Lansdowne was a basic pub in Gloucester Avenue NW1. Still there, only now a ‘gastro pub’.

Back then, working in Camden Town nearby, we walked there in our lunch hour. The beer was good ‘real ale’. That was the attraction for me and my pals.

There was a grand piano in the corner with one leg sawn off so the piano body would sit on the stage. The show began.

A woman walked up, put a disc on a Dansette record player, climbed on the piano and slowly stripped. Nobody watched; everyone there was more interested in the beer.