Police deal with a an accident involving a horse and cart.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-yo ... e-40976327
Traffic policing is becoming a priority again. Or not.
Neigh lad! Drunk in charge of a carriage.
Re: Neigh lad! Drunk in charge of a carriage.
I've been following this story(with a bucket and shovel), and think he should've got community service cleaning up horse muck on roads bridleways 
Edit que for a song:- https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=1hBWBVVFA4c
Edit que for a song:- https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=1hBWBVVFA4c
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"All we are not stares back at what we are"
W H Auden
"All we are not stares back at what we are"
W H Auden
Re: Neigh lad! Drunk in charge of a carriage.
High on a cocktail of flossy teacakes and marmalade
Re: Neigh lad! Drunk in charge of a carriage.
Taking of horses and the police ................
Some years ago, I was cycling towards Plymouth and just before crossing the suspension bridge over the Tamar into Devon, I saw a lose horse on the roadside verge. The traffic was quite busy, so I was a little concerned.
After crossing the bridge, I saw a Devon and Cornwall police car with a bobby in it in the lay-by just beyond the toll booths. I rode across to him and told him of the horse. I described where it was.
The bobby said that he'd never been across the bridge so had no idea where I was describing!
He represented DEVON+CORNWALL police, for goodness sake. Anyway, he thanked me for the info, and I rode off shaking my head in disbelief.
Some years ago, I was cycling towards Plymouth and just before crossing the suspension bridge over the Tamar into Devon, I saw a lose horse on the roadside verge. The traffic was quite busy, so I was a little concerned.
After crossing the bridge, I saw a Devon and Cornwall police car with a bobby in it in the lay-by just beyond the toll booths. I rode across to him and told him of the horse. I described where it was.
The bobby said that he'd never been across the bridge so had no idea where I was describing!
He represented DEVON+CORNWALL police, for goodness sake. Anyway, he thanked me for the info, and I rode off shaking my head in disbelief.
Mick F. Cornwall
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Cyril Haearn
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Re: Neigh lad! Drunk in charge of a carriage.
Mick F wrote:Taking of horses and the police ................
Some years ago, I was cycling towards Plymouth and just before crossing the suspension bridge over the Tamar into Devon, I saw a lose horse on the roadside verge. The traffic was quite busy, so I was a little concerned.
After crossing the bridge, I saw a Devon and Cornwall police car with a bobby in it in the lay-by just beyond the toll booths. I rode across to him and told him of the horse. I described where it was.
The bobby said that he'd never been across the bridge so had no idea where I was describing!
He represented DEVON+CORNWALL police, for goodness sake. Anyway, he thanked me for the info, and I rode off shaking my head in disbelief.
Did someone explain this before: D+C has only two officers, one in D and one in C?
In Wales the thin blue line is even thinner, we have the Dyfed - minus - Powys Heddlu
Devon is very big mind, maybe he had only just been transferred from Budleigh Salterton
Entertainer, juvenile, curmudgeon, PoB, 30120
Cycling-of course, but it is far better on a Gillott
We love safety cameras, we hate bullies
Cycling-of course, but it is far better on a Gillott
We love safety cameras, we hate bullies
Re: Neigh lad! Drunk in charge of a carriage.
Possibly. I didn't ask one way or another, but it seems strange to me that if you belong the a two counties police force, you should at least know your way around .............. albeit in a main road capacity only. To say he's never been across the bridge seemed very strange to me.
We often joke about D+C police. We have one each, so he was the Devon one.
We often joke about D+C police. We have one each, so he was the Devon one.
Mick F. Cornwall
Re: Neigh lad! Drunk in charge of a carriage.
Wen a wer o' lad living in the lovely and picturesque village of Platt Bridge,otherwise known as Platt Waz and whose inhabitants were known as Wazzers,which is situated nobut a three mile shlep from that delightful town and jewel in Lancashire's crown Wigan,there was a Rag and Bone* man called Brock.
Brock looked to be in his 60's short of stature,thin and olive skinned in appearance with a classical gypsy look about him,though lacking an earring,he had a thin spiv like moustache,longish hair topped off by a battered old trilby,he wore a dark bluish old suit that didn't quite fit right-TBH it fitted downright wrong-and was short in the leg(what was known as halfmast) revealing tan coloured old brogues that appeared to be a couple of sizes too big,and worn without socks.
He always wore a white shirt which looked surprisingly clean though without a collar,and a colourful neckerchief about his rather scrawny neck,add a Park Drive in the corner of his mouth and you've got him.
He had a horse and cart with which he plied his trade,the horse's name wasn't Hercules or Trigger but Francis,Francis was black(though no beauty),she had a long shaggy main and tail,a white star on her forehead,and big white shaggy hooves,she also had,even from a 9 year old boy's perspective,a kind of resigned look about her,a sort of "ah well this is me" sort of attitude to life.
The cart to which Francis was harnessed to was a two wheeled gayly painted affair in red and yellow with wheels that I've only ever seen on Morris Cowleys of the 1930's era
Brock and Francis n cart would wander up and down the streets of Waz and the surrounding villages and towns shouting "BO" which was short for "rag bone*" and would offer Donkey stones in return for old rags,which houseproud wimmin would rub on their front steps to whiten them(its rumoured that those Donkeys were bred specially,though I have no official confirmation of it).
Anyway to get to the story,when Brock had filled his cart with rags he would stop outside the King William public house,for it was no secret that Brock liked Walkers ale,in fact he liked it a lot,and when he'd had enough,which was easily diserned by the way he did or didn't walk,he would stagger out to the patiently waiting Francis,somehow climb on the cart,more often than not falling back spreadeagled on the raggy cargo and shout "Francis home" whereupon Francis would wait for a gap in any traffic(which was always light in those days of yore)then slowly trudge off the half mile or so to where they lived.
Many's the time I've seen this spectical,Brock spread out on the rags,Francis tudging along with reins trailing along Liverpool road beside her.
The most remarkable thing was that Wazzers never batted an eyelid at the sight,even Yogi(don't ask) the local bobby on his bike didnt seem to mind at all
*Rag & bone man,rags yep I get that no problem,Bone,what's all that about,bones I don't get at all.
Ragman's bugle or trumpet I can also understand though have only every seen one in action and the sound wasn't pleasant,though to be fair it's operative could've been new to the trade
Brock looked to be in his 60's short of stature,thin and olive skinned in appearance with a classical gypsy look about him,though lacking an earring,he had a thin spiv like moustache,longish hair topped off by a battered old trilby,he wore a dark bluish old suit that didn't quite fit right-TBH it fitted downright wrong-and was short in the leg(what was known as halfmast) revealing tan coloured old brogues that appeared to be a couple of sizes too big,and worn without socks.
He always wore a white shirt which looked surprisingly clean though without a collar,and a colourful neckerchief about his rather scrawny neck,add a Park Drive in the corner of his mouth and you've got him.
He had a horse and cart with which he plied his trade,the horse's name wasn't Hercules or Trigger but Francis,Francis was black(though no beauty),she had a long shaggy main and tail,a white star on her forehead,and big white shaggy hooves,she also had,even from a 9 year old boy's perspective,a kind of resigned look about her,a sort of "ah well this is me" sort of attitude to life.
The cart to which Francis was harnessed to was a two wheeled gayly painted affair in red and yellow with wheels that I've only ever seen on Morris Cowleys of the 1930's era
Brock and Francis n cart would wander up and down the streets of Waz and the surrounding villages and towns shouting "BO" which was short for "rag bone*" and would offer Donkey stones in return for old rags,which houseproud wimmin would rub on their front steps to whiten them(its rumoured that those Donkeys were bred specially,though I have no official confirmation of it).
Anyway to get to the story,when Brock had filled his cart with rags he would stop outside the King William public house,for it was no secret that Brock liked Walkers ale,in fact he liked it a lot,and when he'd had enough,which was easily diserned by the way he did or didn't walk,he would stagger out to the patiently waiting Francis,somehow climb on the cart,more often than not falling back spreadeagled on the raggy cargo and shout "Francis home" whereupon Francis would wait for a gap in any traffic(which was always light in those days of yore)then slowly trudge off the half mile or so to where they lived.
Many's the time I've seen this spectical,Brock spread out on the rags,Francis tudging along with reins trailing along Liverpool road beside her.
The most remarkable thing was that Wazzers never batted an eyelid at the sight,even Yogi(don't ask) the local bobby on his bike didnt seem to mind at all
*Rag & bone man,rags yep I get that no problem,Bone,what's all that about,bones I don't get at all.
Ragman's bugle or trumpet I can also understand though have only every seen one in action and the sound wasn't pleasant,though to be fair it's operative could've been new to the trade
Last edited by reohn2 on 20 Aug 2017, 12:39am, edited 4 times in total.
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"All we are not stares back at what we are"
W H Auden
"All we are not stares back at what we are"
W H Auden
Re: Neigh lad! Drunk in charge of a carriage.
Walkers Ales.
Lovely stuff it was.
Poor shaddow of it's former self these days.
Basically two breweries locally when I first started frequenting the hostelries - Burtonwood and Walkers.
Burton wood was bitter and pale.
Walkers was darker and richer than Burtonwood.
Last time I was up there, they were both looked the same and tasted the same.
Lovely stuff it was.
Poor shaddow of it's former self these days.
Basically two breweries locally when I first started frequenting the hostelries - Burtonwood and Walkers.
Burton wood was bitter and pale.
Walkers was darker and richer than Burtonwood.
Last time I was up there, they were both looked the same and tasted the same.
Mick F. Cornwall
Re: Neigh lad! Drunk in charge of a carriage.
Mick F wrote:Walkers Ales.
Lovely stuff it was.
Poor shaddow of it's former self these days.
Basically two breweries locally when I first started frequenting the hostelries - Burtonwood and Walkers.
Burton wood was bitter and pale.
Walkers was darker and richer than Burtonwood.
Last time I was up there, they were both looked the same and tasted the same.
As I recall Walkers bitter was a nice drink and after a few pints the bottom would fall out of any worldly worries I had,which was nice
.OTOH,shortly after a few pints of Burtonwood bitter,the world would fall out of my bottom,which wasn't
-----------------------------------------------------------
"All we are not stares back at what we are"
W H Auden
"All we are not stares back at what we are"
W H Auden