The Torridge Inn

No introduction needed here of course. Handy for both drinkers and thinkers, a better or more convenient hostelry you couldn't wish for, minutes away from the clocking in office.

Although some of my photos appear elsewhere I have put all that I have here for easier access and with a few comments where relative.

As I remember it, the pub was run by four owners from the 1960's through to late '80's. They were, Fred and Eve Kingdom, Johnny Williams, early to mid '70's, Doug and Irene Nixon (can't recall their surname, help here if you can - Thanks, Terry & Jocelyn!) Doug had previously owned Halsden Machinery. They came from "uup North". 

It must be said that during Johnny's time there were more than the usual thick heads. He was a legend who passed at 53 (I think). A truly great character, we remember you, Johnny.

Lastly, Dennis and Rod Bottrell, a Cornish family from nearby to St. Just. I can't recall Denis' wife's name. I believe they sold up in the late '80's and then bought the Devils Stone at Shebbear. I visited them just once, in the Christmas of 1989. As I walked in, Rod looked up, never said a word but reached under the bar and pulled out my cows horn which I forgot to take when I left the dairy in 1985. He filled it with cider and handed it to me. The place was packed with locals who could only stare at this strange bloke drinking from a cows horn.

A note about the horn.

Horn, still in use after 47 years

As seen in my avatar, the horn, one of a pair, was provided by Fernly Hutchings who worked at the meat factory. Fernly would come to collect waste sample milk, for his pigs, from the lab most days. He brought two in for me at 5 one afternoon. Freshly boiled clean of content, inside they were pink and absolutely stank. I put hot water and methylated spirit in one and left it 'till six o'clock, end of our shift. Over the pub I had it filled with Cy. It held a half pint.

The stink went after 3 months. The other horn went to a member of a visiting team of contractors.

For fun, Rod Bottrell would sometimes put bits of peanut in the bottom and once, a plastic spider. Roars of laughter from onlookers.

These same contractors made me a polished stainless holder for my horn. I cannot find it now but was truly amazed by their kind gift.

The Horn holder - it looked much like this.

On another occasion, contractors digging the road outside the pub had heard of my suggestion to "pity we couldn't run a pipe for cider across the road to a tap behind the silos". They offered to lay a plastic pipe in for me but I had to decline as it would have been difficult to maintain. 

Wonderful days!

1977. Ted (Taylor) bringing me over
a pint of "Natch".
Dick Sunman is at left.
Remembering Edward Albert Taylor.
(photo: Bob Friendship collection)

Ted & his missus, Rose, lived at Taddiport before moving to Castle Hill Gardens.

During the late '70's their son, Bob, came to live with them.

Ted came from Balham, where his Dad ran a small shop with a milk & paraffin

round. 

He enlisted in the army at the start of World War 2 and was a sergeant in the Royal West Kents, in charge of three comrades and a Bren Gun Carrier. 

He saw action throughout the 5 years of war, starting in North Africa right through to Monte Casino.

Ted took up the shop after returning from the war, and was also a London bus driver.

He never elaborated on his experiences excepting to recount many stories of his crews' escapades, getting pissed when there was any free booze about, how they became confronted by a German Panzer tank (big!) and had to engage reverse rapidly to avoid certain demise. One of his crew members, Teddy French, was wounded in the forearm by a machine gun bullet during this particular retreat.

Teddy came to visit Ted one week in the late '70's. Out of interest I quizzed him  about some of Teds' tales. He was keen to verify them.

Although some 30 years my senior, Ted and I became very good mates and had some great times out and about various Torrington pubs, usually ending up pissed.

Poor Rosie, she was not always amused. Neither was "Whiskey" their small dog, who had to find his own way home on occasion. 

I remember one particular Saturday when Ted came to sign in at 8:30. After a fairly heavy previous night, probably playing darts, he was a little the worse for wear. As he signed in he told me Rosie had asked "Ted, who you working with?" He replied "Bob & Roger" to which Rosie sighed  "....Oooh no!"

Ted was a keen dart & skittle player and had his own teams. He was also a Past Master of the Torrington Lodge.

Ted passed in 2001 aged 81. 

I remember him often.

Ted (also Bollicky) Taylor
returning to the lab after a session, a warm Sunday
about 1981.
(photo: Bob Friendship collection)

1977: "Chatter" or "Chadder" Hancock.
(photo: Bob Friendship collection)

Chatter Hancock.

Chatter Hancock was in his 80's when I took this photo. He and his wife lived in the cottage furthest along from the Torridge Inn, opposite the dairy.

On just a few occasions Ted (Taylor) and I would, on a late Saturday afternoon whilst at work, go and knock his door. Old Chatter would invite us in and give us both one or two of his "specials" which was, using a ladies half pint glass, half full of Inches scrumpy topped up with whiskey.

He and his wife regularly enjoyed, on a weekly basis, a 4 gallon barrel of the cider and two 1 litre bottles of whiskey. They preferred it to drinking tea.

Chatter was blind in one eye and deaf. If he couldn't read your lips he would say to his missus "Whats 'e say?, Whats 'e say?"

When offered a third "special" I would decline saying I had to drive home to which he would reply "aww...bleddy car fly 'ome!" grinning as he went on.

He told me he had started as an apprentice to a local builder, this being in the early 1900's.

One day he was asked to hold a wooden stake whilst another hammered in a nail. These were "Cut" nails, cut from a flat piece of steel by a Blacksmith, unlike todays round nails.

The other chap struck the nail but it was a glancing blow. The nail left the wooden stake and pierced Chatters left ( as I remember) eye. He told me they had to take him all the way to Exeter hospital in a cart. He remembered it as a particularly unpleasant experience.

Chatter had a daughter, Joan, who used to come into the Torridge. She in turn had a very attractive daughter, Anthea, (I think) who married Bernard Greenaway, owner of the Atlanta Hotel (formerly the Dormy House Hotel) between Westward Ho! and Northam. This hotel was destroyed by fire sometime during the '70 as far as I remember.

(Joan can be seen in Sids photos.)

During the second World War Chatter was the Landlord of the Joiners Arms in the market place, Bideford. He told me they used to get many American servicemen in for drinks. One particular sergeant must have irritated Chatter. He told me he said to the American, "get out the bledy way, gedaway 'ome, bledy 'mericans."

He was a tough old boy.

Brummy Portman.

Of the many visitors to the Torridge who I can still recall I want to include a note about Brummy Portman.

A tough chap who's job was to maintain the ditches along the highway, the Parish Lengthman I seem to remember but could be wrong, something not bothered with these days, Brummy was a cider drinker and regular in the Torridge.

He was not given to in-depth conversation. He had been a prisoner of war of the Japanese.

Anyone who knows anything about the conditions prisoners of war were subjected to would understand why, when one day I asked him, he simply replied "..ing Japanese!"

Remembering Brummy Portman.

1977 or 8: Graham Hills, Rod De Sa and Alan Gillespie?.
(photo: Bob Friendship collection)

1972: Tarbuk (Roger Talbot) quizzes
Jean Lucas and Sandra Lloyd on which drinks they would like.
Remembering Jean Lucas & Sandy Lloyd.
(photo: Bob Friendship collection)

1977: Ted sinks his Cy whilst Tommy Parish looks on.
(photo: Bob Friendship Collection)

Tommy Parish.

Tommy, a great character and head of a large Torrington family, was a small chap who possessed a big sense of humour. I never saw him mad, only cheerful and engaging.

His job was to clean the very large Braithwaite tank which collected the dairy spillage before it escaped into either the river or town sewer works.

Each day Tom would wash the tank down when empty. It was not a pleasant place to be given the smell.

Odd times when I was passing he could be seen sitting on the tank floor eating his breakfast. I'd greet him with "Ow's it gwain Tommy?" to which came the cheery reply;

 "Alwrite Fairy, smells like Vilets!"

On sundry Mayfair days I invariably met up with some of his family, all a great bunch.

Tommy's tank or Town Sewers?
photo: John E. Kimber (Torrington Museum)

1973: Derek Skinner stands in for Fred Kingdom.
(photo: Bob Friendship collection)

(photo: Bob Friendship collection)

1972: L-R: Graham "DingDong" Bell, Tarbuk,
Rodney Brent, Jean Lucas, Sandra Lloyd, Fran Duncan
& Christine Gilbert,
Eddie Heath is barely visible, left, standing.
Another happy occasion on a distant weekend.

An Addition - Taddiport Revel Day 1978

I was thinking (again...) about the odd story I had forgotten.

So it was Taddiport Revel Day and I think it was 1978 as I 

had use of my Sunbeam Tiger sports car.

It was a fine and hot Saturday and the Torridge was run by 

Johnny Williams. 

So it goes like this.

Heards Garage in Torringon brought their long-wheelbase 

LandRover breakdown truck, complete with rear-mounted

lifting crane and had backed it down onto the river bank 

just next to and on the down-side of Taddiport bridge.

The winch wire complete with pulley and hook had been

strung out across the river and the wire attached to a tree

on the opposite bank. The pulley could be retrieved by use

of an attached rope.

Johnny had agreed a prize of £100 for anyone who could, 

holding on to the pulleys' hook, attempt to "ride" across to

the other bank.

It was after work, around 6pm that I entered the Torridge Inn

for post-work booze and recreation. Several attempts by 

various hopeful folk had had a try and failed for, with the 

weight on the wire, at the mid-point over the river the wire

was excessively depressed and there was no way it would

travel any further.

This meant dropping into the river and scrambling back to the

bank to either try again or realize it was a hopeless test for 

anybody.

The river, I should say, was quite low so no problems falling in.

I had two goes at it. It took time for the penny to drop

but it's amazing what you think you can achieve after a few Ciders!

There was however one contestant who made a better show of it

than anyone else.

Josey Bond was always tiny so her weight was not so heavy on the line.

She had a couple of goes and I recall she made it to probably 

three quarters of the way across.

For those heavier participants it was neccesary for two of Heards'

mechanics to stand on the front bumper of the LandRover as it

would rear up with the weight and could have precipitated it 

backward into the river.

Suffice to say Johnny kept his offer of the prize.

Since I couldn't put on my clothes over wet caks I elected to drive

back to my home, a flat over Queen Annes' Dental Practice in 

Bideford High Street as I was. I can remember a few sideways

glances as I paraded from my car down to my home in just my Caks.

All a bit of fun, my wife, Janet, took a dim view of my antics.

Nuff said about that then!

It was a good day tho'.

That's it for now. I hope to add more when I've had a chance to see Sid again as his wife, Angie, owned the Torridge for a few years after I left the dairy.

I hope it will invoke many happy memories (!) for any visitor here who worked at the dairy all those years ago. 

Great times indeed.