Down the pub

As is our wont, we were down the pub after badminton on Friday night. The railway-themed location is the third hostelry to have become our “local” in recent times. We left the last one because it had become so quiet that we could hear ourselves speak. The one before that had an open wood fire which really lived up to its name. The smoke was reluctant to go up the chimney, preferring to spread itself around the lounge bar instead. The landlord was not overly appreciative when I pointed this out to him. I think it was my two pints of lager, sledge-hammer wit that probably upset him more, though. We went outside to get some fresh air, sharing the tables with the smokers.

Our current choice is next to a former railway line which is now a trail for walkers, cyclists and horse riders. The elegant and substantial Victorian building was never connected to the railway in any way other than proximity. Amongst some fine old photographs and at least one thoroughly unconvincing railway painting, there are lots of knick-knacks from the railway age, though they are mostly, I believe, mass produced replicas.

The one that I notice most frequently on my way back from the loo, is the reproduction nameplate of Princess Helena Victoria, perched above a doorway. Well, what a fabulous name that is, for a start. Also, what a fabulous engine she was, as were the rest of her class. We knew her well in our time - and hers - a regular at Liverpool Lime Street station, Edge Hill sheds and Crewe. It is a great reminder. I couldn’t have made a better choice, myself. Every time I pass it, I want to jump up and touch it to mark my recognition and affection, just for old time’s sake.

On the other hand, if I was to start leaping around the place, heads might turn, questions could be asked and we could soon have to be looking for another pub again.