In the dim and distant nineteen seventies, that lost era of flares, dodgy moustaches and The Brotherhood Of Man, The pubs closed at ten thirty PM in the week and Ten o clock on sundays, Closing times were usually strictlt enforced and most of us from the council estate end of the village left at the same time. Given that we were mainly male and young and had consumed a few pints of Lager or Whitbread Trophy, once we got outside the pub there was always the temptation to burst into song,Given that this was the era of Rod Stewert we had those anongst us who fancied themselves as the tartan clad one asthey made tthier way down School Road with the appropriate comfort stop at the urinal that was then located behind Brady's Garage, Unless diverted into the output of The Wurzels first LP, as one person ofren strangely was, 'Rod The Mod was first choice.
Sadly, however, one of the Stewert enthusiasts eventually came unstuck when he carried his passion beyond the post pub singsong. After several pints at a dance in the New Hall he pursuaded the band that was playing that night that he could perform the Jimi Hendrix and Rod Stewert classic 'Angel' ' on stage, As it turned out, when his moment came, he could remember nothing of the song beyond the title.
Abd so ended another promising musical career.
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