Despite the urban desecration, within our local countryside there are possibly still far flung colonies where an intrusion into some local taverns engenders no less a fearful apprehension than had an intergalactic emissary from the planet Zog materialised.
But not, of course, the 17th century Ye Olde Swan at Woughton, allegedly favoured by Dick Turpin whilst preying on the coaches along the Watling Street.
Luckily John Hughes was not the landlord, for during the 20th century on retiring from the police he became the licensee for many years.
From a local family, a successor was John Rose, who on retiring went to live nearby at The Close.
The pub was next run by Stephen Kalton, who counted many showbiz personalities among his friends. And on the subject of episodes, perhaps a pub of yesteryear might be the setting for an EastEnders type of series, where in a bygone ‘Queen Vic’ after a hard day the local hard case might strut hard-case-like into the tavern, to brashly trumpet to the comely barmaid: “Hail, fair bar wench. And prithee a flagon of one’s finest foaming mead – babe.”
“Forsooth, kind sir, and no doubt a bowl of one’s choicest porky scratchings too, methinks – innit.”