Dear Iclok - thank you for dedicating your lovely poem about Magpie to me, very greatly appreciated.
I love Magpie - in all weathers, and first visited it in the early 1950's just after the end of the Korean war which ended in 1954, after the New Zealand mining company that reopened it ceased mining, after world metal ore prices drastically dropped. I became a regular visitor from 1962 onwards, right through the very bad winter of 1962/63 when all the regular members of PDMHS made it by hook or by crook to the cottage every weekend, we always got through regardless of snow drifts, blizzards, ice - I shudder to think of that winter whenever I remember (we slept upstairs in all our clothes, in double thick sleeping bags, ice on the inside of the bedroom windows, no form of heating whatsoever, one had to be hard to endure those conditions believe me). There was no generator then for electricity, this was before the cottage got burnt down, we had a 1930's type Triplex cooking range, which heated a side boiler (only some idiot forgot to fill the boiler up with water and the boiler burst), and heated the living room, there was a small pantry off (now the generator home) which we used as a kitchen and cooked on primus in it. The living room was to the left of the front door and the lounge where folk could talk and books were kept was to the right of the front door. The stairs today are the reverse of the original stairs, they originally faced the door that led in from the garden, one went straight upstairs to about four bedrooms. The present day layout is completely different from the original Mine Manger's House which was burnt down (from memory) about late 1966 or early 1967 (it is recorded in PDMHS's records) and that is when the forge was used for accommodation.
I've never been in the "Cock and Pullet". I have, however, spent quite a few happy hours in the "Devonshire Arms" in Sheldon which was the original pub (same building) from 1962 onwards. It was a parlour pub, more like someone's living room. It was housed in a cottage and run by Vince the landlord (who I think farmed as well - ask Mav and Mike they'll remember it better, they were young students at Sheffield University then) and his sisters. One stepped into a cottage sitting room with an open fire and seats all around, beer was served in white and pink jugs, which were taken into a pantry for filling where the beer barrels were kept, and beer was poured via a tap into the jug. One soon learnt not to move the chairs in the parlour and pull them near the fire, as if one did, Vince virtually strode into the parlour lifted one up by the scruff of one's neck, moved the chair back into it's original place by his other arm and then one was deposited back in the chair. Words were not spoken, but thereafter one learnt not to move the furniture around, (AR - ask Mav and Mike about Vince, they'll have a tale to tell). Another good pub was the "Bull's Head" at Monyash, a lovely homely pub (nothing like the size it is today) with an elderly, very kind and friendly landlord, he once saved a ten shilling note change that we had forgotten to take off the counter on one visit we made, for several weeks until our next visit. Another time we had our six month old son with us and we left him outside in our car, the Landlord was very annoyed with us and told us to bring our baby in immediately. I felt awful as the licensing laws forbade children in pubs, so I explained why we hadn't brought him in, and he said "I'm the landlord, I decide who comes in my pub, and I've told you to bring him in" which I did. I always found the indigineous folk in the area, once one had broken through their reserve always very helpful and friendly.
I must stop reminising otherwise it gets boring for other AN members. :bored:
Anyway Iclok many thanks for the poem. It really sums up one of Magpie's many moods.