I took advantage of being here in Europe to go and visit my tailor last weekend in Cumbria, just on the English side of the Scottish border.
I arrived at the local village pub just before 11pm and was immediately reminded of what it is that I miss so much about the north of England: an in-your-face bluntness that is not like the aggressive, trenchant manner of a New Yorker. Much softer and friendlier while still holding back nothing. I walked in, dressed in Thomas's latest creation:
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| Me and the lovely Anitra Holley at my party the other week (which, by the way, was the best party ever). Click to embiggen. |
I was also wearing my loveliest brown fedora and the locals wasted no time at all in letting me know what they thought of such an outfit in a rough country pub in the bleak north. They just started making fun of me, right to my face. I sat there, grinning, and thinking, "I've missed this!"
Normally, of course, people do that sort of thing behind your back and it was so refreshing to hear it directly. Even better was that everyone was smiling. It was obvious that there was no malice in what they were doing. They were just remarking on something that they hadn't seen before.
Thomas wasn't there when I arrived so the landlady took charge and looked after me: she got me a pint and called him and got him to come out and get me. Within 30 seconds of his arrival we were sitting in the main bar talking to whomever we happened to be sitting next to and having a lovely time. This went on until about 2 or 3 in the morning. You see, one of the benefits of being so far off the beaten trail is that no one gives a damn about what's against the law. In any other part of England I've been to the police would be swarming all over the place as soon as they saw a pub open past the time they'd decided it should be closed.
When we'd had enough Thomas drove me back to his little cottage in the middle of nowhere. And when I say nowhere I really mean it:
He lives in a tiny place just to the SE of the word Tindale. If you zoom out a bit you'll see a line of hills stretching for miles to the south right into the depths of the lake district.
It's just the sort of barren, bleak hillside that I love the most. One of my favorite things is to hike across it because you can see for bloody miles and, more importantly, there's usually a pub after each mountain!
Here's the view out the back of his cottage:
You can see the start of the hills across the way to the south. Lovely!
After a hearty breakfast of lard and meat it was off to see my first ever professional football match with Thomas and a friend of his called Aiden. This begins, according to local custom, at the pub. This was a lovely quaint little place a couple of miles up the road from Thomas's place. We went to this one because the bus that would take us to the game stopped right outside.
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| How quaint! |
After a couple of swift pints and some friendly chatter with a couple of locals it was time to get on the bus and head to the game. I was very excited because it was the first time I've been on a bus in over 10 years. Of course I had to get the camera out and embarrass Thomas again with my American Tourist impression!
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| Bloody tourists! |
When we got off the bus we discovered that there was just enough time to go to a pub and get a swift pint.
Then it was off to the match. The local team is Carlisle United. They're around the top of the third division so it was an important promotion game this late in the season. I really wasn't sure what to expect because I've only ever seen things like this on the telly: 60,000 people mindlessly chanting their tribal songs while some sort of game goes on way down on the field.
This was totally different. Being only a third division team the crowd was very small and seemed to be more interested in the game than in displaying their allegiance. The game was also much more fun to watch than the sort of game that usually makes it on the telly. There was no falling over, clutching the ankles as if they've just been shot in the foot. Just decent, though scrappy, hard-fought footy. Very nice.
Of course, before the game started (and a few times during the game) we found the time to get a swift pint.
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| Thomas in his lovely Carlisle United scarf |
I had to get myself one of the scarves, too. Nice item for the pool room, see?
After the game (they lost, 2-1) we went up to the football ground's pub and met a bloke by the name of Teapot whom Thomas has known since they met in kindergarten. Then it was off to a pub just up the road.
After one or two there it was time to walk up the street a bit where, much to our surprise, we found another pub. We went in for a swift pint or two and, this time, a bit of food.
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| Thomas and Teapot in Another Old English Pub |
I can't remember what I ate but it seemed to do the trick. Sufficiently fortified we stumbled out into a taxi which drove us, of course, to a pub. This was back at Thomas's local where things had started last night, a very quaint (naturally) place called The Belted Will. The meaning of the name was explained to me but most of my attention was on simply standing up at this point.
Thomas, Aiden and I spent the next several hours drinking and talking about something or other. Various people from the village popped in throughout the night and I'm sure I had a lovely time meeting them all.
Soon after reaching the staring-at-the-barmaid's-arse-like-starving-wolves-looking-at-a-passing-lamb stage of the evening we decided to retreat back to the cottage. The landlord got out the special drunk-mobile and whisked us off up the road to Thomas's. Upon arriving it was decided that we should go up the hill to Aiden's place.
I was all for walking as I thought the air would do me a bit of good but Thomas decided we'd drive. I got in the passenger seat, perched on Aiden's lap, and Thomas headed off up the road. I'm pretty sure that he was a little over the legal limit, the fact that he couldn't stand up being my biggest clue, but it was the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere so it just didn't matter.
After rather skillfully parking in Aiden's flowerbed we stumbled inside for some beer, meat and porn. Marvelous! There were still about 2 or 3 hours left in the evening but I'm not really sure what happened during this time. I vaguely remember burning the roof of my mouth as I inhaled a burger, some cheesy German porn (yay!) and more beer. Oh, and some local folk music that sounded like a more primitive version of bluegrass.
I also drunk-dialed my girlfriend several times and slurred something or other into the phone. I remember I was trying to describe her eyes to Thomas and Aiden with a working vocabulary of about 6 words. Eventually I just called her and told her to take some pictures and e-mail them to me so I could show the lads.
These were my favorites:
Things progressed until we all looked something like this:
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| Oh Dear! |
Not long afterwards it was time to pass out on the couch.
The following day was spent feeling somewhat fuzzy. We had a very quiet lunch at a nice Old English Pub before I headed off back to Glasgow to catch the plane to Frankfurt. I had nothing but a couple of glasses of water with my food as I was concentrating on recovering. I haven't had that much to drink since, well, the last time I was in England. Maybe that's why they're such a passive people these days...
All in all I had a wonderful time. I immediately fell in love with the place. It had all the best bits I remember from England with no sign of the worst bits and I found myself considering ways I could move there after only a few hours. I'm sure this feeling will wear off soon but I am definitely looking forward to going back for the odd visit or two.
Thomas is already planning his next party (I missed his Christmas party, shown in the video in this post's first link). It's on Bastille day and everyone has to come dressed as a character from 'allo allo'. For those of you who know what this is, I'm sure you're convinced there's something wrong with Thomas's brain for even thinking up the idea. For those of you who don't, well, it's probably best that you just leave it alone...
Sounds like you're having a great time. My wife and I are loosely planning a trip to Merry Olde England next year. We don't know anyone there, but that ain't gonna stop us.
Posted by: Col. Hogan | April 28, 2008 at 02:10 AM