A pub on a walk, even
just a day walk such as we were on, is a welcome sight.
The opportunity to remove boots and move next to the
fireplace is one to be snapped up, though for the
ultimate in steaming piles of walking attire, you
need to read the section on the Kings Head in Gunnerside.
The outside of
this pub, the Saracen's Head, is quite striking, with
an old apple tree growing up the front right out of
the foundations. Inside, there was potential not quite
realized. It did not seem to know quite what it was:
An old item juxtaposed with something brand spanking
new; something practical blocked by something useless;
new tile next to old timbers.
This was the first
of several pubs where the cider was not quite on.
'On' is a term we use to describe something that is
served correctly, perhaps even slightly above par.
'Not quite on' implies that the item is certainly
acceptable, but could perhaps be better. Some ciders
we experienced were worse than this, but certainly
many were better. The vast majority of cider found
in English pubs is keg cider, that is to say, pretty
much dead, just as much of the beer that is sold is
keg beer. Cask beer is what we pursue and we would
pursue cask cider with equal vigor if there were very
much to be found, which there is not.
The cider industry suffers
a little from poor definition. For example, one of
the more popular brands, Scrumpy Jack, is not scrumpy
in the true sense of the word. Originally scrumpy
cider was made only from windfalls, though it has
developed into being a catchall word for rough, unsophisticated
cider. Which begs the question, why did the marketing
people think it would be a neat name for their product?
Because cider has a particular image in England, that
of yokels from the south-west drinking it in large
quantities.
The cider industry would
be well advised to shake this image, since there is
tremendous potential in the product. Coming down off
some Lake District mountain in eighty-degree heat,
stumbling into a stone-floored pub and downing a pint
of cold, hard, dry cider is one of life’s more
delicious moments.
There are some nice ciders
out there. Blackthorn and the aforementioned Scrumpy
Jack are good bets, Westons occasionally, and if you
were forced into only bottles, then K would be the
cider of choice. In any pub where they offer
The first telephone call
in the Bringtons, perhaps in all of Northamptonshire,
was not only made up of a Christmas carol, but it
was also sung by a sightless violinist. This odd little
moment in history fell on a November day in 1881.
The line had been installed for the local tannery
firm Ryumer & Shepard, between their two factories
in Wood Street and Crane Street. To digress for just
a moment, I am unable to find references to either
street in old maps or new. To my mind, this calls
into question the authenticity of this entire story.
The story, as related, is full of minute detail, and
often a story so told carries its own credibility,
until the details are questioned.
Anyway, supervising
the momentous call was one George Judkins, who went
by the splendid title of Superintendent of Telegraphs,
and who claimed to be the first man to erect a telegraph
pole in all of England. Nervously, he telephoned Mr.
Collingdale, a member of the firm: "There you
are, sir. It’s all connected now. Don’t
be afraid - you can speak into it now."
Many of us have but one
shot in life to make history, and Mr. Collingdale
missed his. By expressing some reluctance to utilize
the new-fangled apparatus, the fame train passed him
by. Instead of seizing the phone and the moment, he
went out into the street and persuaded one of the
village residents to speak on his behalf. He chose
a man named Bates, who, since he was both blind and
managed to play the violin, was know to one and all
as the Blind Fiddler. They do not seem to be an imaginative
lot in the Bringtons if that was the best they could
do. And so a Christmas carol became the first words
transmitted over a telephone line in the Bringtons.
Superintendent of Telegraphs Judkins actually lived
in Northampton, and for many years he rode round the
countryside in a horse and buggy fitted with wire-tapping
apparatus so that he could eavesdrop into any roadside
telegraph line. His hobby, of all things, was collecting
tollgate tickets. By the time he died, he had a famous
collection numbering in the thousands.
Some or all of this may
be true, but it was as related by a resident of the
village, so if parts are embellished, improved or
just plain made up, then to a certain degree, it is
still the flavor of the English rural life.
Little Brington
has had other significant residents. Lawrence Washington
moved here from nearby Sulgrave Manor in 1610 when
he sold the family home to his cousin Lawrence Makepeace.
Lawrence Washington is the Great-great-great-grandfather
of George Washington.
