The Cellar - Aylesbury, England

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And finally, just a couple more from Aylesbury itself.

Picture 1: One of the locks on the Grand Union Canal

Picture 2: The New Zealand pub on Buckingham Road. My abiding memory of this pub is being in there the day we came back from a festival. It was early afternoon and it felt terribly decadent. Someone told a joke and Johnny laughed so hard his elbow slipped off the table and his finger went up his nose. He withdrew his bloody finger and said in horror, "I've speared my brain!" I laughed until I hurt.

Picture 1: The cemetary. I was there with Mum, putting some pots plants on graves of friends.

Picture 2: The bottom of Parson's Fee - part of the conservation area in the centre of town.

Picture 1: Top of Parson's Fee. With Mum.

Picture 2: Royal Bucks Hospital. It was a real hospital when I was a child - with an A&E, a maternity ward (my sister was born there) and an ENT department, where I spent a lot of time. It's been closed down piece by piece - it's a physical rehab centre now. When it was first built it was the first hospital thats design was heavily influenced by the ideas of Florence Nightingale.

Quote:

Originally Posted by Mike the Nobler (Post 538802)

It was interesting that it had the old entrances to three tunnels down there, one you could still get along, that just went across the road to the Nags Head I think it was called, the others we inaccessible but I remember an old punter telling me that one went to another pub along the road and the other went into town.

I'd forgotten about this. One of my close friends was a regular in The Nag's Head, and he used to crash there sometimes. He told me about the tunnels too, although I was never really sure whether he was just having his leg pulled. That answers that I guess!

In fact, thinking about it, something of the sort was mentioned when I had a tour of St Mary's church (when I was in the Brownies). Too long ago for it to be anything other than a vague memory though.

Quote:

Originally Posted by Mike the Nobler (Post 539605)

So memories I take it you spent some time there to, when was that if you don’t mind me asking?

I’m not sure but I was told that the tunnels all linked up under the town church. And that they were used for the population to get to ‘sanctuary’ if needed? I did have one regular who was a cab driver, (aren’t they always) who told me that when he was a boy the vicar had told him that under the church they had cells that were used by monks at one stage, and that they went of into tunnels. I hate to think what the church got up to in cells if this was true.
I remember the stairs as been very narrow, the ones that went to the loft room were a real pain. This was the domain of the manager’s son. As for the celler’s, yes they were creepy, hardly any light, and with the smell of very old pub celler.
As for anything paranormal, it would be difficult to say, as my whole time there was very strange. I learnt a lot about life there, and a lot about drinking, I lived there a while working as assistant manager, and the manager did not serve coffee with breakfast he served a double Vodka and coke, the day then went on like this, rack up the bar, open the pub, at least 4 doubles over lunch. Close. Sleep till five, another drink, opens at six….. Yes you got it more to drink. Close at 11, the curtains that is. And then carry on drinking until 2 in the morning with any punters that wanted to stay. He was a heavy drinker and expected those around him to do the same.
Oh I can remember one place that used to get me twitchy; there was a door that went of the bathroom into a hay loft that was over the big side gate. I left a lot of my stuff in there, Cine films, projector, records, all kinds of stuff. It was easier that rummaging around in the dark when I left the place.
I will try and find the photo of the bar, I'm sure I still have it somplace.

my mum and dad were landlords thyere in the early to mid sixties. my memories of the place start at around at the age of two/three ( about 1966/67)
i used to love the jukebox on loud and a drink called hubbly bubbly- a lime fizzy drink.
i take after my mum and dont drink but my father was the total opposite . my mum said he always had lock ins which seems to be a bit of a tradition of that pub - very heavy drinkers indeed.
i remember once i had this toy gun and it was so loud and looked so real. i aimed it at the locals and starting fireing it and they all shat them selves... i can imagine the names they were calling me under there breath, lol.

Some more from our walking.
We got Dads to drive us out to the hamlet of Hulcott. It was a 2.28 mile walk back according to Multimap. We assumed this would give us our 30 mins recommended exercise per day.

Well.... it did - but not by much! It only took us 40 minutes. We both assumed it was further in terms of walking because it is out in the country. In fact, we've been out for far longer just around the outskirts of town.

Still, at least part of the walk was in proper country surroundings, and I took a few pics for you too. Hulcott is very small, but is off the main road (via a one car track) so it has escaped any modernisation. The school and church would have served all the farms thereabouts.

More from Hulcott.
As tweens, we used to cycle to the church. Our next door neighbour wasn't Christian, but it was a fun ride, and at the end of it a cool (temperature) destination. The church was generally open, but if not you could collect the key from a local cottage.

At the time I was a devout Catholic, and cogniscant of the fact that this would originally have been a Catholic church (it has pre-14th century parts) long before Henry VIII split with Rome to marry his whore. Although the history interested me more than the schisms even then. There is something about being in a building devoted to worship for 6 centuries that would probably move me even still. Oxymoron intended. (rather clever I think)

Wow Sundae... I love all these pictures. Please keep going...

Quote:

Born in Quarrendon, Buckinghamshire (at that time part of Mercia), she was the daughter of Frithwald, a sub-king of Mercia in Surrey, and was the niece of Saint Edith and Saint Edburga of Bicester. Her mother was Wilburga, the daughter of the pagan King Penda of Mercia.

Raised in a convent in Warwickshire under the direction of Saint Modwen her ambition was to become an abbess, but she was too important as a dynastic pawn to be set aside.

Forced by her father into a dynastic marriage with King Sighere of Essex, she did her dynastic duty and produced him a son. While her husband ran off to hunt down a beautiful white stag, Osyth persuaded two local bishops to accept her vows as a nun. Then, eventually, perhaps after Sighere's death, she established a convent at Chich, in Essex, where she ruled as first abbess.

She was murdered by Danish Viking marauders in 653.

The site of her martyrdom became transferred to the holy spring at Quarrendon. The holy spring at Quarrendon, mentioned in the time of Osyth's aunts, now became associated with her legend, in which Osyth stood up after her execution, picking up her head like Saint Denis in Paris, and other cephalophoric martyrs and walking with it in her hands, to the door of a local convent, before collapsing there..

Town planners in the 60s - may they be damned for many reasons - used the name Quarrendon for a council estate. I was born there. My sister went to Quarrendon Secondary School (supposed by many to be little better than Borstal, but she disproved that) amd I've just heard my nephew is bound there too.

But the well was in what is now known as Bierton, and is there still.
Well and village pump and Mum. You can work out which is which ;)
If you look at the first pic then turn slowly to the right you will see what is in the second. I tried panoramic but it didn't work as well as two separate ones. And Mum kept moving.

What a beautiful day for a walk in a beautiful location.

Wow - I would love to have a view like that to see while walking! Absolutely beautiful.

Quote:

Originally Posted by Sundae Girl (Post 541702)

Henry VIII split with Rome to marry his whore.

Quote:

Originally Posted by Sundae Girl (Post 541713)

village pump

One and the same? :haha:

Back to modern Britain.
Other posters, and me of course, have mentioned the dire future of British pubs. There are many doom-sayers in this country who don't believe they will survive another 20 years. RUBBISH! I say. Unless alcohol becomes illegal there will always be pubs, and people to drink in them.

But pubs do have to work harder. I got these menus for Mum & Dad (esp the over-60s one) because I know how much she loved going out for their 41st anniversary lunch. And they are in the key target group - people who wouldn't go into a pub during the week or during the day.

Excuse the shakey camera work on the first pic. It was a much smaller menu and I was trying to sneak a photo while eking out a diet coke.

Anyway - here for your information.

Dani, I missed your post previously re poo and bab!
I'm going by The League of Gentlemen of course. Given their diverse Northern credentials, I stand behind my claim. But of course I accept that it's not a common term in your neck of the woods.

We had a conversation about polite (children's) terms for farts when I worked in Asda in Leicester. Even people born and brought up in the same city had very different views. One lady would never let her son say "trump" while another thought that "pump" was rude. We said "pass wind" when I was growing up, which they thought was dead posh. They didn't realise that it came from Nan who only went to school til she was 12 because she had to look after her younger brothers and sisters...

great pics, Sundae! You live in such a picturesque town...

what is weird is how often peas show up on the menu... I don't think I've ever seen "peas" listed as a side in America...weird, huh.

Is a "hand held burger" a burger that's been hand shaped???