In Memorium: Nan

You know, that is strange, that …

Strange …

And sad, as well …

You see, I’ve just had some rather sad news.

Do you ever remember me telling you about a little pub called The Sir Charles Napier?

I don’t know if you will or you won’t, frankly.

But just to fill you in … ?

The Napier was a tiny little community pub at the unfashionable end of Brentwood High Street.

And run, up until the day it was shut down and demolished, by the woman officially remembered in her obituary in this weeks Brentwood Gazette as Elvina Leber.

But I think that I and many others only ever knew as Nan: that’s her in the top photo.

Well …

I’ve got to admit, I found out today — on the day of her funeral — that she’d died.

Which will probably tell you several things.

For a start … ?

Well, for starters, how well I read that part of the Gazette.

And, secondly, quite how private her and her family are.

I can’t say I blame them: I think this day and age, when everyone and their parrot are on Facebook, Twitter and Google+, it’s sort of refreshing.

»»·««

But … ?

But I’ll be honest, finding out Nan had died, did leave me feeling shocked … !

Although I do know Nan had been seriously ill for some time, she like one or two others I’ve known, had seemed so alive.

Alive …

And bloody stubborn, actually …

You see, Nan had been the person who — outside of Denise, at the Hutton — been the first person to hire me to do a pub quiz.

The first to hire me to do a quiz at a pub I wasn’t working at.

And … ?

Well, I know this, Nan was a damn hard woman to pitch to.

But also a very good landlady.

And very protective: of her pub, customers, workers and those she’d hired as entertainment.

I’m pleased to have been one of the latter.

Oh, she could be difficult: and give you a hard time …

But on the upside … ?

It’s very rare to have found an employer that could be wise AND offer good advice …

AND be fun.

Which Nan definitely was.

RIP Nan.

Sir Charles dies a slow death

Well, here it goes!

I’ve linked the original post I put up about The Sir Charles Napier into the title of this post, but, for me personally, this is something of a sad sight.

Local landmarks.

You know, there’s an old belief that says sometimes, bad things happen in three’s.   I don’t know if that’s the case, but the recent deaths of Patrick McGoohan, and Sir John Mortimer comes in the same week as the Brentwood Gazette’s news article about the final demolition of the Sir Charles Napier – written, co-incidently, by Piers Meyler of the Gazette, who’s hopefully covering the parking, and linked into the title, I should add.

But this is quite a sad one, to me, on a more personal note than an actor, or barrister’s death, however noted they were.

A little personal history should help, here, I think.   The first quiz that I ran was at the Hutton, and that was, in part, because I’d been telling my boss I could it.   Denise, bless her, took me up on it.

But the Napier was my second venue.

And the first one I had to hunt for …

So landing this gig was rather special to me, especially as it was the first pub I’d drank in, as well, back in the day.

But wandering in, that first time, to actually pitch to Nan and Donna was nerve-wracking.   And successful, and led to a whole pile of good times.

And the weirdest first night, until the Freddie Eastwood Choral Society kicked off, that first night at the King Harold.

Mid-question, we had a kebab delivery.   Or attempted delivery … 

It’s not the oddest thing that’s happened in pub quiz history, but it stuck in my mind.

But that night was busy.   An few old friends, Adrian + his then partner, Carly, were there, as were Alan and Graham.   Kiwi Donna was on the Ramp, that night, as was Nan herself, Oxo and Charlie put in the first of many of their appearances.   I even had the ‘No Ideas’ putting in their faces, and winning by the narrowest of margins.   (Certainly Adrian, Margaret and Trish!)

Amazing what a simple question about tartan can do …

And it went on to become what I always referred to as my acoustic gig; – with the Hutton as heavy opera, and the King Harold, by comparison, having safety pins through its nose, a mohawk,  and a tendency to spit while pogo’ing.

Great days.

So, as you can imagine, it’s a loss knowing the old gaff’s going.

 I know the changing economic times need new ways of  doing thing, I know the pub game’s changing rapidly, and I know, objectively, having the High Street pedestrianized is a good thing, but …

But …

We’re losing a small, community pub, one of two left in the high street.   We’re tarmac-king over an oil well, so to speak.

And that’s our loss.

Hall Of Infamy Part Two

Just thought, in the midst of the inevitable nerves about tonight, I’d post some more photo’s from the proverbial vaults.   We’ve a few from the King Harold, and one from the Sir Charles Napier.   I’m just hoping Nan –the Napier’s former landlady– is reading this, be good seeing her at one of the modern gig’s.

Up top is the much mentioned Charly, resident barmaid at the Harold, and owner of one of the best silhouettes I’ve seen in a while!

Underneath Charly is the one shot I’ve got of Keven’s old team, Team James, at the Napier: – and, boy, do I wish I could persuade them back along …

And the last two shots are of Jules, and her partner, Len, who’ve been regulars at the King Harold’s quiz, since Day One.   And hander Out of the Bumps, at me fortieth do, I seem to remember …