It’s the week after Birmingham City’s relegation to the third tier of English football and rather than stay at home mumbling expressions to myself like press the reset button, clear out the deadwood, comeback stronger etc I decided to go and hear the sound of leather on willow with my maiden (pardon the pun) visit to Wilnecote cricket club taking in a new pub on route.
I’d been given rough directions by my neighbour Luke but given as he’s a villa fan I was concerned that the pesky blighter maybe sending me in the wrong direction so I took the advice of Fleetwood Mac and went my own way deciding that the most direct route was down the cut (or following the route of the canal for my foreign readers unfamiliar with the Midlands dialect/not well versed in the utterances of Thomas Shelby).
A canal side walk is fraught with danger, you need to be fleet of foot to dodge the dirty protests that cute pooches have left on the tow path whilst at the same time being mindful that a lycra clad middle aged man in a purple helmet is likely to run you over with his overpriced bike whilst looking more like Christopher Biggins than Bradley Wiggins!!
I amused myself making Dad joke style puns from barge names as I made my way along the canal. Incidentally I never did find out what it was that Sally weed on…
I did regret not listening to my neighbour’s instructions as after getting off the canal tow path I was confronted with a sign directing me to Glascote, Kettlebrook, Exley etc but nothing to Wilnecote, I started singing’ You Don’t Know What You’re Doing’ to myself. I daren’t even call in to the local takeaway in the fear that, when asking for directions, the proprietor may shout F U !!…
Another very real concern when seeking directions was the possibility of me mispronouncing my destination as bizarrely locals refer to Wilnecote as ‘win-cut’ which sounds like a hairstyle a Premier League footballer may ask his personal stylist for !!
Suddenly things started looking familiar, I recognised something I believe is referred to as urban art..
…it was a mural showing local attractions and famous people from the area, I don’t know why Spudman didn’t feature !! I knew I was in Two Gates and that can only mean one thing, my first visit to the Bulls Head..
There was a reasonable choice of drinks including bottles of ‘skinny premium lager’ weighing in at a fat busting 89 calories, I decided to opt for a pint of full fat Marston Pedigree at a scale tipping 222 calories.
I found myself a seat and soon became apparent that there was a strong military feel to the place..
…although closer examination of one of the flags indicates that it may be a prop from football hooligan film Football Factory…
…clearly listed are infamous firms Cardiff and the Zulus, I can just imagine Danny Dyer pavement dancing declaring that those tear ups were propa nawty !!
I don’t think it would be unfair to say that my trip to the Bulls Head was like stepping back in time, I kid you not World of Sport was on the tv with Mick McManus (wearing a tiny pair of underpants that must’ve been discarded by Diana Doors) in a wrestling bout against Kendo Nagasaki…
My suspicions that this place was stuck in a time warp were confirmed when I attempted to log on to the pub’s WiFi..
2G?!! How am I supposed to connect to that on my Nokia 3310?!!
I scoured the room for the pub character, it didn’t take me long, a gentleman by the name of Skip. He immediately alerted me to his quirky nature by inexplicably singing ‘What’s the frequency Kenneth?’ when answering his phone though given the backwards technology in the pub Skip was probably seeking advice from Kenneth as to how to tune in to Test Match Special on his wireless !!
Somebody foolishly turned over the tv from World of Sport to the women’s T20 live from Edgbaston this was the cue for mirth and merriment of the blokes in the bar, a veritable comedic feast of quips about cricket boxes and jock straps, I could almost hear Baroness Rachael Heyhoe Flint turning in her grave.
As out of place signs in pubs go surely the neon cocktail bar sign in the Bulls Head must be right up there…
I’m not sure how good the vibes would have been if rather than asking the barmaid for a pint of Pedigree I’d have requested Sex on the Beach, or a quickie on the cut as it is presumably called in these parts !!
I spotted what a believe to be was a box brownie camera…
An artefact that is that old that it took the majority of the still photos from villa’s European cup win. Didn’t you know they’d won the European Cup? Their fans hardly ever mention it !!
Suddenly Skip proudly announced that he’d bought some new tackle, it quickly became apparent that he is a keen fisherman and had purchased some new angling equipment rather than discussing a surgical procedure!!
Not only was Skip a fisherman he was obviously a wordsmith as his use of alliteration was particularly impressive when he informed his pal that he’d got a text from one of his ‘f******g fisherman friends’ which I can only assume was an angling buddy rather than a strong menthol lozenge !!
I’ve got to say I was enjoying myself and as I’d finished my pint I thought I’d get another and listen to Skip’s tall tales about the one that got away though not before I took a couple of snaps of the back room for pub blogging purposes, I went through an unmarked door which led me to a small smoking area and the ladies toilet and nothing else, somewhat embarrassed I made my way back to the pub neglecting to remember a large step I’d climbed on my way out, so my reappearance was as coordinated as Norman Wisdom, I decided my best course of action was to head to the exit
My intention was to do a post on Wilnecote cricket club’s bar but my stay was a brief one, chasing Rugby CC’s 222, I saw wickets 8, 9 and 10 go in quick succession with Wilnecote 156 runs short…
The bar was being refurbished and it was bottled beer only, amazingly I resisted the temptation of requesting a bottle of skinny premium lager !! Annoyingly a cricket bore sat next to me as I was watching the tailenders perish and he subjected me to tales of Leicestershire CC from days gone by… ‘It was a cloudy morning at Grace Road and following on we found ourselves 80 for 6 at lunch on a turning pitch’…..I made my excuses and left !!
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