A Village Life ( VILLAGE TALES Ep 1 )

Why some villages prosper and some don’t has to be about the people and not about ‘prosperity’. Wealthy estates can be cold and unfriendly, villages that have lost their industry can still be proud of their sense of community. In a changing world the past is the foundation on which the future is built.

 

The landlord at our local is Dave. Dave Watts ex London Cabby and dealer for more than a few years in secondhand goods, particularly government surplus and militaria. Landlord in relation to public houses is an honorary title, as the ‘landlord’ is seldom the owner of the property. Many licensed premises used to be owned by a brewery who at least had some consideration for their staff and their customers. The rise of various pub companies has decimated particularly country pubs who were unable to maintain the leases demanded without becoming restaurants, and how many restaurants do we really need? Fortunately our local is part of the Blythe estate and was originally built along with its adjacent brewery to serve the workers on the estate and to recoup some of what the workers were paid. There were shops and small industries serving the local community, but over time they have closed down, or moved away. All we have left on what once a busy high street is the pub, and the village shop and Paul there will tell you that sometimes it’s been touch and go as to whether the shop itself would survive but his ancestry is farming, so his glass is seldom more than half full. The shop too is owned by the estate. It was bought in the eighties from Tom Jeffers so as to prevent its conversion into a private house by a building company and to enable it to continue as our village shop. Paul’s father who worked on the estate ran it after Tom Jeffers died. Now Paul runs it, and it looks like his daughter will be the third generation at our village shop. In a much changing world, those who have lived here all their lives find that continuity comforting. In that same world, ‘in-comers’, as opposed to what some people might think, are often those most likely to be against any detrimental change. It is after all, why they moved here in the first place.

Dave is a case in point. The interior of ‘The Old Drum and Monkey’ looks more like it did originally than it has done for the last hundred years or more, or at least what we like to think it looked like. All the so called improvements of the sixties and seventies were removed to reveal much of what was pre-war. Then that too was removed to reveal fine elm beams and a genuine inglenook and a niche that some like to think was a priest hole. Since Dave became landlord the Drum has never been in better shape, and the estate, in the person of Lady Blythe who continues to support its existence, has to be thanked for without it the village would have lost its soul, or most of it. 

How Dave came to be the landlord is shrouded in mystery, much like Dave himself. He has a landlord’s ability to agree with everyone, and if there is no conversation he’s a master at starting one. He’ll remember everything anyone tells him, but like the confessional, it’s sacrosanct, well almost. Of himself he is biased towards a good story rather than the truth, so what you believe is up to you. As I have said before, it does no harm to believe and life is the more interesting for it. If true many of his stories, of which I am privy, would result in proceedings of one sort or another. His story of purchasing what he was led to believe were dummy exhibits from an arms exhibition that turned out to be live Exocet missiles was just one. From that, at least, no proceedings were issued after he returned them to the military. Actually his story goes that it was when he advertised them in a publication less popular than it used to be, Exchange and Mart, that he was approached by the anti-terrorist arm of the police accompanied by a dozen or so armed military personnel, arriving in a six wheeled armed personnel carrier, a show of force if ever there was. Dave was made an offer he couldn’t refuse, which amounted to no further proceedings subject to the verification of a detailed statement he would be making whilst in custody at a nearby barracks. That ended Dave’s brush with the arms race and may have tempted him into the safer confines of the licensed trade, but I know there to be other dubious transactions involving weaponry, military souvenirs, ‘kit’, and other items, not always surplus. Kit was always described as ‘surplus’ if an errant quartermaster was up for additional earnings. Dave denied that was common and told me about the consignment of boots he once purchased. Whilst en route to one of his many lock-ups, he received instructions for them to be re-routed to Southampton as they were destined for the Falkland Islands due to the current issue being unsuitable for the terrain there. He demanded ten times what he had paid, and got it, plus an identical number of pairs of desert boots as compensation. To prove the point he was still wearing a pair and showed me.

Dave’s background in ‘wheeling and dealing’ is evident throughout the pub. Sickles and scythes form a backdrop around the the bar, a heart shaped turfing iron is suspended precariously above it and other farming implements hang from the beams and are fixed to the walls throughout. Several old muskets and a blunderbuss are secured to the wall above the inglenook, old photos and metal advertising signs decorate the walls along with anything for which Dave has exchanged a few beers, cash seldom changes hands.

I’m examining a black and white photograph taken in 1948 of a Riley Roadster parked in the village square when Jean arrives. She often helps out, particularly if there’s a darts or skittles match. That night an accountancy group from Shipston had booked the skittle alley. The alley had been used as a store for the last thirty years until Dave opened it up and during the winter its particularly popular and can double as room for private parties. During the summer the same can’t be said for the area of shingle on which is played Boulle, by the Drum’s Pétanque team who play in a local league. Besides the Drum being a thriving business, it’s a community centre, as well as a visual reminder of the village’s history and heritage. Arguably there is more local memorabilia in the pub than there is in the village museum. 

Dave at the pub and Paul at the shop are the two sides of a coin that symbolise the health of our village. One side is the continuity that traces its ancestry back a century or more through families and connections that can reference and mark the village’s changes and development. The other, typical of all those ‘incomers’ that have settled in the village over the  centuries who appreciate the village for what it is and have added to its vitality, character, and longevity. It’s having both that makes it a village, without either it’s just a place where people live.

Listen to Village Tales and other short stories from the Honkeymoon Cafe on Spotify, Anchor FM, Apple Podcasts, RadioPublic, Pocket Casts, Google Podcasts, Breaker and other platforms. Written and read by Barkley Johnson.